“What if the older girls don’t like me? What if I don’t make varsity?” She began crying. MJ and Trisha said all the right things: that she would be great, that everyone would love her, that everything would work out. But their words couldn’t make it better. Words meant little. Only excellence helped chip away at self-doubt. And so she excelled.
She didn’t make varsity as a freshman, but she was called up repeatedly and earned important minutes during the playoffs. And by junior year, Madison had become exactly the person everyone anticipated she might. She was a starter on the varsity girls’ soccer team, scoring thirty goals that season as Northern Highlands won the state championship. At one point during the title game Maddy had to leave the field with an injury, and everyone held their breath, worried she had blown out her knee. But it was only a tweak and she soon returned to the game, and Highlands won on Maddy’s sixteenth birthday.
She started running track during sophomore year, mostly to keep in shape for soccer, but each time she raced, she seemed to get faster. This surprised no one. She was a natural athlete with a beautiful stride, the mechanics already in place—a finely tuned race car that had finally found the track.
In school, she was one of the best students in her class, always sitting in the front row with her notebook open. Her reputation: diligent. While some kids skipped assignments and asked to borrow answers from friends, Maddy did all her own work, always. And when she would walk the halls, the younger girls craved her attention, commenting on her outfit or offering congratulations about the latest game or race, anything to stay in her presence just an extra beat, to absorb whatever flicker of attention she might offer. She would mostly smile and laugh. People liked to be around her because she always seemed to be laughing. And when she wasn’t, she made sure she was around friends who could empathize, who understood the anxiety that accompanied ambition.
Maddy was very popular—among both girls and boys. The boys loved the way she looked, but there was also something alluring about the unattainable aura she projected; dating and boys—usually the centerpiece of someone’s high school experience—were low on her list. “She had so many other things going on,” Emma said. “It wasn’t her main focus. Yeah, it was there. She could have pursued a lot of that. But she was so focused on doing well in sports and school. Dating just wasn’t her main goal.” Throughout high school Maddy casually dated and flirted at parties, but nothing became too serious.
Her commitment to sports eventually paid off. By sophomore year, her first full season on varsity, numerous college soccer coaches had written Maddy expressing interest. And by junior year, dozens of additional programs had her on their radar. She was one of the best players in the state, and had strong academics—a perfect candidate for the Ivy League. Harvard was a possibility. So was Penn. Maddy had been charmed when she and Emma took a visit to Philly during their junior year. She’d fallen in love with the school’s proximity to a major city, its beautiful architecture and cachet; but the Penn soccer coach stopped recruiting her after watching a game in which she played poorly.
A wave of disappointment washed over Maddy, but in its wake came an official scholarship offer from Lehigh. The head coach there, Eric Lambinus, was high on her, believed she could be a great college player. When Lambinus watched Maddy, he saw skill and potential, fueled by her passion for the game. Lehigh had been recruiting Maddy for more than a year and had developed a close connection with her. It was a Division I program and a great liberal arts school. Of course, no college could match the allure and name recognition of the Ivy League. But most of Maddy’s friends and family thought Lehigh was the perfect fit for her: she could contribute right away on the field, and the academics would be challenging but not all-consuming.
The Lehigh coaches devoted hundreds of hours to recruiting her. They talked with her on the phone regularly, traveled to watch her games, and hosted her on campus three times. They came to know her as well as any kid they had recruited. And in April of her junior year, Maddy gave Lehigh a verbal commitment, which was essentially a promise that, in November of her senior year, she would sign a national letter of intent to play soccer for them. The “verbal” was not legally binding, but most other coaches stop recruiting a player who has given this commitment. And most coaches did stop recruiting her—at least in the soccer world. The Lehigh coaches were thrilled.
Madison (number 3) fell in love with soccer at a young age, and was on the Northern Highlands team that won forty-eight straight games. (Holleran family)
But nobody could have predicted how quickly Maddy would improve in track, and by the end of junior year she was posting some of the fastest women’s times in New Jersey in the 800 meters. Harvard and Penn were back in the picture. Suddenly, the scholarship offer from Lehigh morphed into a safety net. Maddy needed to see if she could really get into the Ivy League, which was a dream of hers. Or rather, a dream she felt she was supposed to have. Maddy wasn’t sure she could tell the difference anymore. She began visiting schools, taking calls, and by fall of senior year, word had gotten back to Lehigh that their prized recruit was wavering.
Eric called Maddy and asked directly if she was visiting schools for their track programs. She said she wasn’t even though she was, because she was afraid she would disappoint him. A few weeks later, when he called again, she finally told him.
The Harvard coach said he couldn’t support her application, but Penn looked increasingly like a legitimate option, and on December 12, Madison received her acceptance letter. She immediately posted an image of it on Instagram.