A moving memoir that reminds us of the power of play to inspire, unite, and heal-and that sometimes what brings us the most pain can be the source of our greatest inspiration.
In April 2018, Nikki and Doug Mark's perfectly healthy twelve-year-old-son, Tommy, went to sleep one night and never woke up. They're still not exactly sure why. Devastated, Nikki embarked on an unconventional journey to create a legacy for Tommy and to heal her heart. She created a plan to transform neglected land in a Los Angeles public park into a state-of-the-art athletic field, honoring Tommy's love of soccer and sharing his spirit of play with others. After family, friends, and LA's soccer community banded together to raise over a million dollars for the project, park neighbors resistant to change threatened to derail it. Throughout Nikki's journey, a remarkable string of incidents convinced her that her recently departed son was guiding her through the process. Ultimately, Tommy's enduring spirit and the beautiful game he loved taught her how to navigate the challenges she faced along the way.
Nikki Mark formerly led operations for hospitality and sports team start-ups. She is the founder and now president of the TM23 Foundation, which opened the first Tommy's Field in 2021 and the second one in 2023-with several other fields in the planning stages. She lives in Los Angeles. EXCERPT
From the Prologue
The regularly scheduled bimonthly meeting held by the Board of Recreation and Park commissioners began promptly at 9:30 a.m. I took a seat next to my husband and prepared myself so I was ready when it was my turn to speak. Project. Be concise. Look them all in the eye. And, by all means, do not cry.
When my name was called, I approached a sleek black microphone that stood at attention on a slim stand directly in front of four Recreation and Park commissioners. A hundred pairs of eyes stared at the back of my head and my body temperature spiked. You have sixty seconds to tell your story, I reminded myself. I stopped an inch away from the microphone and stared at the commissioners who were sitting behind tables that had been draped with black linens and pushed together to form a barrier between them and us. I just have to convince three out of four of you to vote in our favor. Three of you are women. Maybe you are mothers. My hands dropped to my sides and I pushed my shoulders down and chest up, as yoga had consistently asked me to do ever since my son had left.
A red light sat above a large digital clock that was frozen on the number sixty and eager to count down. "It's time to finish, Mom!" I heard my son shout, as if I were one of his teammates heading toward goal. In a way, I was, and had prepared to finish strong. In another way, I was aware that I could be developing a mild form of schizophrenia. That thought made me smile. The clock started counting down to zero while the red light tried to intimidate me. I rushed to find my voice.
"Today is exactly one year and nine months since the day my twelve-year-old son, Tommy, went to sleep and didn't wake up. We still don't know why." My voice was already shaking and violating my game plan. The four commissioners stared back at me with what seemed like not an ounce of compassion in their eyes. Before I could process what was happening to me, an intense wave of grief crept up my throat and nearly crashed through the backs of my eyes. Not now! I implored. Give me sixty seconds to get through this, please. I can feel you. Back off a little and when I'm done, come back. I willed my emotions back down into the cracks in my heart, which caused a low tremble that spread instantly from my gut to my limbs.
