I looked over at Heather Mitts, who was sitting across from me, and my eyes welled with tears as I realized that this was probably my last bus ride with her. She would be retiring, and I was so happy that she was going to go out on her own terms: healthy, still strong and talented. She had kept fighting over the years and had made our team, proving a lot of people wrong. I sent her a text telling her how happy I was for her and how much she had meant to me through the years. I hoped that someday I would be able to retire with as much grace and respect. I looked over at Heather and saw she had tears running down her face as she read my message. —Hope Solo

You haven’t even apologized to Bri,” someone said.

I had already apologized to Bri in Lil’s room the night before. I had just spoken to her again outside the door. But I apologized to Bri again, in front of everyone. I had maintained my composure through most of the meeting, but as I spoke, my voice broke. “I’m sorry Bri,” I said. “I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry that I did.”

I was asked to leave the room while my fate was decided.

Eventually, I was informed that my teammates had deemed my apology insincere. I needed to be punished. They would not allow me to play in the third-place game. I couldn’t even go to the game. I couldn’t eat meals with the team. I was suspended. They also decided that I needed to call Julie Foudy to apologize to her for tarnishing the legacy she helped build, which seemed absurd to me.

Later that night, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Carli. “How are you? I’m thinking about you. Hang in there.”

I felt the warmth of her embrace. I still had a friend in the world.

—Excerpted from Hope Solo’s new book “SOLO: A Memoir of Hope” (via theoryofperception)