My Moments with Legends 11-20

to read volume 1-10 click here

Volume 11: Johanna Rasmussen
Lions on her chest, quiet fire in her eyes.

Some players are remembered by headlines.
Johanna Rasmussen is remembered by those who were truly there.

She didn’t seek the spotlight.
She became it — quietly, gracefully, without ever needing to shout.
With Linköping, she wrote her name into Swedish football history.
With Denmark, she carried the badge through eras of change.

That evening, in the golden light of a calm Scandinavian sky, she smiled.
Not as someone who wanted praise,
but as someone who had earned her place on every pitch she graced.

Her dribbles were swift.
Her loyalty unshakable.
Her presence — a gift to the game.

And when she stood beside me, it wasn’t about the photo.
It was about the witnessing.
To know that you were lucky enough to meet one of those
who never made noise,
but made a difference.

Johanna Rasmussen — lionhearted, lowkey, legendary.

Volume 12: Laura De Neve

The Quiet Captain. The Purple Pulse.

Some players raise their voice.

Laura De Neve raised her game.

For years now, she’s been the calm center of chaos.

The one who doesn’t chase the spotlight  but earns respect through presence.

Captain of Anderlecht. Rock of the Red Flames.

And somehow still the same Loeke,

the girl from the heartland who never needed glitter to shine.

That day, after training, she posed without hesitation.

No ego. No rush.

She saw the folders, the photos, the care  and she gave it back, like she always does.

Not with big gestures. But with something stronger: time.

Because Laura is like that on the pitch too:

Always in the right place.

Always ready to clean up, to build, to support.

She’s seen generations come and go.

She’s stayed.

And through it all, she’s kept the beat of Belgian women’s football alive 

with her left foot, her loyalty, and her leadership.

Laura De Neve 

the captain who never had to shout.

Because her actions speak fluently.

Volume 13: Hedvig Lindahl
The Guardian Who Gave Me Peace

I met her in Algarve, more than once.
And each time, I came with questions 
About her future. About her career.
About whether this was it.

And she would take me aside.
Smile.
And say, almost like a whisper:
“Don’t worry about me just yet.”

She told me before the media knew.
She trusted me with time.

Because Hedvig Lindahl isn’t just a goalkeeper.
She’s a protector — of goals, of teammates, of moments.

She has stood in the biggest stadiums,
against the fiercest opponents,
with the world watching.
And yet she always had time 
for one more photo,
one more talk,
one more reassurance for a friend who cared too much.

She saved more than shots.
She saved spirits.

1.79 meters of pure kindness.

And in that one picture,
the one from that peaceful evening after training,
you can almost see it:
not a wall, not a warrior 
but a human who held everything together.

Hedvig Lindahl 
Not just a legend.
But someone who made me feel safe.

 Volume 14: Heather O’Reilly
HAO – The Engine with a Heart

Some players burn bright.
Heather O’Reilly burned true.

From her teenage years to her last lap, she played the game with a kind of sincerity that couldn’t be faked.
No drama. No demands.
Just hustle, humility, and heart  every single time.

She was never the loudest in the room.
But when the ball came her way, the message was clear:
I’ll run for you. I’ll run for us.

She won it all — World Cups, Olympics, club titles  but never lost her grounding.
Even when the boots were hung up, she came back one last time with Shelbourne,
just to show that love for the game doesn’t end with a press release.

And when I met her, she was just… Heather.
Sharp, warm, smiling like someone who still can’t believe how far football took her.

She wasn’t made for the spotlight.
She was made for the sprint.
For the team huddle.
For the 89th-minute press when everyone else is tired.

Heather O’Reilly 
the purest kind of professional.
The kind you never forget.
Because she never stopped giving.

Volume 15: Hope Solo
The Return. The Fire. The Promise Kept.

They said it was over.
That her shoulder was too far gone.
That even a warrior like her couldn’t come back from this.

And I believed them 
for just a moment.
Because the headlines were loud.
And my heart was quiet.
I cried. Quietly. Honestly.
Because Hope Solo wasn’t just any player.
She was the heartbeat of a generation.

Hope returned  fiercer, sharper, more focused than ever.
She dove, punched, commanded.
She stood taller than she ever had.
Not because she was unbreakable 
but because she had broken,
and came back anyway.

She didn’t need a redemption arc.
She was the redemption.
For every girl told to sit down.
For every player written off too soon.

And when I saw her again 
after the surgery, after the silence 
it wasn’t just a comeback.

It was a promise kept.

Hope Solo.
She came back.
For herself. For us.
For everyone who still believed.
Even when it hurt. Especially then.

Volume 16: Janni Arnth
The Calm That Carried Teams

Janni Arnth didn’t need armbands.
Leadership just followed her — wherever she went.

From Denmark to Sweden, from England to Italy and Scotland,
she carried herself like a quiet flame:
never loud, but always burning.

There was elegance in the way she tackled.
Grace in how she spoke.
And belief  deep, unshakable belief  in the people around her.

When I met her, she was exactly what you hope a veteran would be:
patient, warm, eyes that had seen both glory and grief.
She posed for a photo like it was no trouble 
because for her, people were never a trouble.

She was the one who checked on teammates when cameras were gone.
The one who stayed long after the whistle.
The one who held the room steady, when no one else could.

Janni didn’t just play for clubs.
She anchored them.

You don’t always see leaders.
But you feel them.
And wherever Janni Arnth played —
you felt her.

Volume 17: Gudbjörg Gunnarsdóttir
The Volcano in Goal. The Calm in the Storm.

Some keepers dive.
Some shout.
But Gudbjörg Gunnarsdóttir?
She anchored the pitch.

Wearing Iceland’s crest like it was carved into her chest, she stood tall — in rain, under floodlights, against giants.
She didn’t need noise to intimidate.
She had presence.
Stillness. Confidence. Fire beneath the ice.

I met her after a match that had everything —
and yet, there she was. Cool. Humble. Smiling like someone who’d just stepped out of a storm and still had time for everyone.

She represented more than a team.
She was the face of belief for Icelandic girls who watched from behind barriers, behind screens, behind hope.

She played abroad  in Sweden, Germany, Norway 
but her soul always stayed on those lava fields.
Rooted. Unshakable.

Gudbjörg didn’t just guard the goal.
She guarded the dream.
Of a small nation
with a giant heart.

Volume 18: Emma Berglund
The Architect in Defence

She didn’t scream.
She didn’t chase headlines.
Emma Berglund simply organized the world around her —
quietly, efficiently, like a conductor in the back line.

She led Umeå IK with grace.
She grew into PSG with intelligence.
She came back to Sweden and gave everything again.
Wherever she went, she brought balance.

I met her on a cold evening, post-match.
Headphones around her neck, eyes alert, polite as ever.
And in that one moment, I understood:
This is someone who sees the whole field,
even when she’s off it.

Emma wasn’t just a centre-back.
She was a planner, a presence,
the kind of player who always makes her teammates look better —
because she reads danger three passes before it happens.

And yet, she was never distant.
She stopped for a photo, even after 90 tough minutes,
and smiled like someone who still loves the game.

Emma Berglund —
the kind of legend you might overlook if you only watch the ball.
But if you watch the game —
you’ll see her everywhere.

Volume 19: Annike Krahn
The Wall That Spoke Softly

Some players win with flash.
Annike Krahn won with faith — in her position, in her teammates, and in the game itself.

She was never loud.
But when she moved, others listened.
When she stepped, the whole defense followed.
A centre-back who didn’t just stop goals —
she prevented chaos.

World Champion. Olympic Gold. Countless battles in the Bundesliga.
And still… when I met her, she was grounded.
Friendly. Present.
She stood there at MSV Duisburg like she belonged among the fans, not above them.
No ego. Just football.

She played like she lived:
Clear. Composed. German precision without the coldness.
You didn’t notice her when things went well —
because she made them go well.

Annike Krahn 
the quiet backbone of a golden generation.
And the reason why greatness doesn’t always need volume.

Some questioned why she was picked.
Why she started.
Why she played so many years.

But since Annike Krahn left,
Germany hasn’t won a major title.
Silvia Neid understood.
The press didn’t.

But we who watched her closely…
We knew.
You don’t question the wall —
until it’s gone.

You want to know who she was?
She was the Millie Bright of her time.
Strong. Selfless. Always there.
The type of player journalists overlook —
until everything breaks down without her.

Annike Krahn didn’t ask for praise.
She earned it, and walked on.

Volume 20: Karen Carney
Quiet Class. Eternal Drive.

She didn’t need to be loud.
Karen Carney let her football speak — and when it did, it said everything.

For England. For Chelsea. For Birmingham.
She was the player who stitched transitions together.
The one who carried the ball like it belonged to her.
Who could accelerate past you —
or just wait for you to make the mistake.

When I met her, she was just off the pitch — focused, kind, not one for big shows.
But she stopped.
Took the photo.
Signed the sheet.
As if she'd been doing it her whole life.
And in a way… she had.

Karen Carney was there before the big crowds,
and stayed long enough to deserve them.

She was never the star of the headline —
but almost always the reason for the win.

Karen Carney —
a legend in motion,
who never needed noise
to make an impact that still echoes.