Once Upon a Time: True Stories of an Aspiring Writer

11: How to Deal With Not Being a Big Deal and Other Field Hockey Lessons

IN KINDERGARTEN, I often admired the Big Kids who would stand in front of the school and talk about their sports games at assemblies. One or two girls would walk to the front of the room and say something like, "Girls' soccer had a game against *insert school here* on Friday, and we lost, 2-0, but we played well. We have another game against *insert school here* on Thursday. Be in the locker room by 2:30."

  I often imagined how cool it would be to be one of the Big Kids with a grand social life of social outings instead of play dates, and juicy gossip instead of Neopets talk, representing our school. Big Kids got to take a foreign language, represent the school at their sports games, enjoy school dances, and as I'd learn later, switch classes. I couldn't wait. Sometimes I staged my own school assemblies, pretending to make my own announcements, in the foyer of my Dunst Drive house. I wrote the "announcements" in an Elmo notebook.

Back to sports announcements---my very first encounter with Big Kids. In kindergarten, after these announcements occurred, I imagined myself as a soccer player; coming home after school, dressed in uniform and dropping a bag down on the counter of whatever soccer players carried around. "I have a game after school next Thursday," I'd announce, in my extracurricular glory. Everyone would cheer for me, on the field, and people would know who I was at assemblies when it was time to announce games and results.

Fast forward to seventh grade. I wasn't the best student, nor the worst...I don't think. But it was confirmed by now--- as a Big Kid, school was so much cooler. We got to go to school dances (cool!) and overnight field trips (mostly ew) and roam the halls irresponsibly during study halls, where Christine and I would often meet in the library to look up our crushes' houses on Google Maps. We were probably intimidating to fourth graders. We! Plus, my classmates were athletes now. We ruled the school. 

Of course, it didn't fit right away. I felt like I was wearing a new pair of sandals that weren't my style and belonged to someone bigger than me. But my feet would learn to adapt, and soon I had become a Big Kid myself. Before I knew it, a year had passed.

Anyway, I was packing at my locker again one fall afternoon, because that's where the inciting event always seems to happen, when two classmates approached me.

"We don't have enough players for our field hockey game on Thursday," said one of them. "Will you fill in for us?"

I looked up with interest. The closest I'd ever come to being an athlete was scoring some runs in gym class games of Matball. Still, Christine was on the field hockey team and seemed to enjoy it. So I said yes. Suddenly, I found myself facing the prospect of suddenly joining a team that I probably wasn't in shape for, and didn't know the rules of. Despite all this, I wasn't nervous. And I accepted.

That night I called Christine on the phone and she told me all that I needed to get: equipment, water bottles, the necessary shorts to wear under those kilts, etc. So I was off to the sports superstore on a brand new adventure. 

Alas, I don't remember a ton of specific moments. However, I did learn quite a few things which I will call the Laws of Middle School Sports.

LAW #1: The temptation to use the stick as a golf club will be overwhelming.

Self explanatory. We usually got those urges out in warmups, using the stick to drive the ball down the field as hard and far as we could.

LAW #2: Winning is important. Anything else is a lie.

One of our traditional opponents was a Christian school an hour away. On the first game I played against them, they beat us 8-0. Second game, we lost 8-1. Keep in mind that I still remember this now, as a college graduate. When you lose, and in terrible fashion, you don't forget.

The score wasn't the only thing I remember. When a teammate stopped to compliment an opponent on their shot (the Quakerly thing to do), they responded, "Whatever. Your team sucks." When another teammate injured her leg, the opponents snickered. Yeah. The Christian opponents, mind you. 

Clearly that Christian school was not one that taught tolerance or Christianity. I also have no doubt they taught homophobia. Am I still bitter? Of course not. 

LAW #3: Don't think of your opponent as the enemy.

You can't play games without opponents, and as much as you want to win, you won't always. That's why you simply think of your opponents as people who just like to play the game as much as you do. I played a right wing often, and whenever we played against another certain Quaker school, the girl in my position across from me would start up conversation. Something like what grade I was in, or something about school, or whatever. I learned that her name was Valentina and that she was my age. 

The surprising fact? Opponents are people too! In fact, you are somebody's opponent whenever you play a sport. You don't play for the sake of destroying people, do you? You play because you love the sport.

LAW #4: Gatorade is a sports drink. Surprisingly, that's where it tastes best.

You will never drink Gatorade again in everyday life after you've used it to quench your thirst in a sports game. It's powerful stuff, especially when it's hot out. I finally developed an appreciation for the yellow flavor during games. It wasn't too sweet, but the flavor packed a punch when you were hot.

However, Gatorade bottles were always the worst to open. Before heading to school, a parent would have to pry it open for me. This was a risky move, for if that crucial step didn't happen, I'd have nothing to drink.

    LAW #5: Being a middle school athlete means nothing.

Nobody cares about what the middle school players are doing. You could be Saturday morning Little League for all anyone cares. We weren't even part of a league, nor do I remember playoffs. At least nobody got a big head over athletic ability that way.  

LAW #6: Sports should be enjoyed as parts of a whole.

It bugs me these days how every sports fans' mindset is something like, Win win win, get to the playoffs, and take the championship! As a Red Sox fan who follows their Facebook page, the fans are happy with nothing less than a win every game, or a World Series title. But they forget about the individual games---the home runs, the amazing walk offs, the beautiful weather at games you attend, etc.--- because they get championship tunnel vision. Maybe our school was doing something right. Always good to enjoy each individual game as a whole.

The only goal I remember from this time--yes, the only goal---was one that Christine scored. It turned out to be the difference as we ended up winning 1-0. At the game's end, she'd run to her parents, hugged them, and said, "I scored it!" similar to how a five year old might do. Moments like that you don't remember from looking at the big picture.

LAW #7: Athletes, you will get sick of it.

You will grow to hate running. Despise it. I know I couldn't feel like I could run anymore at times and sometimes even dreaded having that feeling later on during the school day. But what will make you continue? The sense of camaraderie- where else will you have water ice parties in the locker room? The bus rides listening to Avril Lavigne on your iPod minis. That one awesome cheer your school has, that I still remember today.

We had wins. We had losses (but mostly wins, so hurray for us). It was a great time and I truly regret not continuing with the sport. Thank you, boarding school in New Jersey, for banning it because "the sticks are too dangerous." Most of all, I had the honor of feeling like an adult, being one of the role models, and symbolizing all that was being a Big Kid. Oh sure, I had all kinds of experiences....the dances, the study halls, the overnight field trips. But what says something about belonging more than putting on a uniform and scoring goals for your team?