Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Things I learned about sports (and lots of gooey sentiments)

I wrote this at the end of last year in honor of fencing and frisbee and how much they've done for me, but I never ended up finishing it. Here it is now, finished and edited... although I'm sure I will add more things to this list as I continue learning things about sports.



Things I've learned from sports from freshman year:

1) It doesn't matter what it is, but do it.

Have you ever loved something so much it hurts? Something you just wanted to throw yourself into completely out of love for the thing and the people and the everything about it? I think a lot of people had at least one of those in high school. For me it was musical theater, and at least for a little while, marching band. Thinking about putting on a show in theater or performing a “golden show” in competition for band made my belly ache just thinking about it, I wanted it so much. All my friends were in band, and my few friends who weren't soon dropped out of my life because I didn't have time to spend with them and all I wanted to talk about was music, anyway. I considered majoring in music my sophomore year. I didn't tell anyone, because I was embarrassed to be considering the prospect when I wasn't really good enough to make it work. But it was an obsession and an addiction and my whole life, and I couldn't imagine not centering my life on music.

I fully intended to join a band in college, but it didn't happen. Somewhere between my two sports and classes and meeting new people and having exciting new experiences, I didn't make time for it. But the full force of my slightly obsessive personality is now fixated on sports. To a certain extent, it doesn't matter what you do – if you have a passion for music, sports, theater, art, fantasy, gay rights, video games, etc etc – all that matters is that you do something and throw yourself into it and love it. I couldn't imagine living without music, but I also love sports and it was easier than I would have thought to give up music by replacing it with frisbee and fencing.

So if I ramble constantly about fencing and tell you fencing jokes and “this one time at a tournament” stories and won't shut up about how boss my frisbee team is, please forgive me. I fell in love.

2) You are capable of so much more than you think. Confidence is everything.

I've run track and cross-country, did marching band, and played frisbee for years. I'm no stranger to exercise. But being on Bella Donna (my frisbee team) has been the most demanding sport I've been a part of. 2 workouts a week, 1 practice a week, 2 weight-lifting sessions a week when we managed it, tournaments every weekend in March and April, and all those nights practicing until midnight in the Shell made for a difficult year. It was difficult with respect to time-management, balancing practice with fencing and classes and homework and studying and sleep and eating and a social life often seemed impossible, and sometimes I slipped up and and fell behind (usually with sleep and studying).

It was difficult physically – I don't think there's a single girl on our team who went uninjured all season. Working out and playing that much take their toll on your body, but it felt like disappointing the team to be injured, so most of us would suck it up and play through minor injuries like pulled muscles and rolled ankles, only taking time out if absolutely necessary. Most days I had 2 hours of fencing practice, an hour break during which I would sometimes but not always get the chance to eat dinner, and then either an hour-and-a-half workout or a 3-hour practice for frisbee. Sometimes I would watch the clock creep closer and closer to midnight, just wishing I could go home and catch up on sleep and rest my aching muscles.

There was a period of time in early spring semester when I didn't put much enthusiasm into either sport, and I'm a little bit ashamed of that now. Because what I've learned is that even when you think you're exhausted, that's just your brain. Your body is a remarkable thing and is way more resilient than you think it is. During your 4th game on a Sunday of a hard tournament, you can simply convince yourself that you have more in you, and voilĂ ! Somehow it's there. If my girl is running deep, I used to believe that she was faster and let her beat me, but rather recently I've discovered that I'm faster than I thought, and if I go in with a head full of confident arrogance and a heart full of belief in myself, I can almost always beat her. During my 6th workout in 3 days when I'm feeling worn down and dispirited, I can just tell myself that I'm excited about it and still have plenty of energy, and somehow I always do. Why waste time believing you have limits when your body hasn't given up yet?

This belief in oneself, this confidence, is also a huge factor in fencing. One of my foil mentors (hey Stephen!) likes to tell me I fence too timidly, which cracks me up because I'm an incredibly aggressive fencer as long as I stay in control of the bout. (He is right, though – as soon as the other person takes control of the bout and puts me on defense, I lose confidence and my limited ability to plan ahead.) But I will unashamedly brag about how well I did at club nationals in Tennessee, because I decided I was going to be a boss and scare the crap out of every girl I faced on the strip, and surprisingly it worked! My strategy is to be fast and aggressive and scare them until I hit them with my incredibly large lunge that they really should have parried if they weren't so intimidated. Against better fencers, this wouldn't work at all, but apparently this is good enough for club level fencing.

On a more philosophical note, it is my experience and my belief that people become what you expect them to be. If you treat someone like a criminal and a delinquent, there's a darn good chance they'll act like one. In high school I would get in trouble for breaking rules that I only broke in spirit, like getting disciplined for “ditching class” when I really only ditched school rallies because I hated that we were required to go to them. They had strict rules precisely because they expected us to push the limits and break all of them, and so I did. While on the other extreme, my parents treated me like I was a responsible, independent adult capable of making rational decisions from about age 12 or so. I can't even imagine how horrible it would be to let them down, since they believe that I'm a better person than I really am. So I try to live up to their expectations, and when I fail, it hurts and sometimes I try to hide it. So whatever you want people to be like? Treat them like they already are as kind, responsible, etc as you expect them to be, and hopefully it will push them in the right direction. Expectation is powerful, and I don't know which is more powerful: the effect other people's expectations have on you, or your own. But your own are far easier to hack. So go believe yourself into being good at math, sports, music, languages, and especially people skills. I believe it works for all of these.

3) Your teammates might just be the most influential people you'll meet.

It's hard to just generate confidence on your own though. A lot of us don't believe in ourselves and can't just start with a snap of the fingers. That's where the sidelines come in. On Bella, we really emphasize the importance of the “8th man on the field”: the players on the sideline. This is useful for practical and strategic reasons (telling the defensive players where the disc is and where they can be to play most effectively, for example) but also to give you the much-needed confidence boost when your fuel tanks are flagging and you don't believe you're fast anymore. You need people to believe in you for you sometimes, and for me that takes the form of my weight-lifting buddy Romy screaming her head off at me on the sidelines telling me “You're so fast, Ikwe! Deeeep! DEEEEEP!”. Or it's our coach Robyn sobbing after a point with too many turnovers to count in the most important game of our season, because she believes in us so much and was so overwhelmed with pride that we stuck it out and won the point. It's standing in a huddle, looking around at the determined faces of your teammates, knowing there is no one you'd rather play with, because we believe in ourselves and each other and we've worked so hard together to learn that trust. Being a part of a team is a powerful feeling. It makes you better AND it's the single most rewarding thing about playing a sport.

I've met so many amazing people through sports. They've inspired me and changed me and I feel incredibly lucky to know them. I was consistently humbled by the dedication and fire of the senior players on Bella (Forty, I'm looking at you) who never seem to lose intensity and are always working to become the best players they can be. My fellow new players learned the same lessons I did this year about time-management and pushing through pain and fatigue, and we've lived the same struggles and figured them out together. As for fencing, well, I owe everything to the senior foilists on the team. We have a coach, but he can't teach us all individually, so it's no exaggeration to say everything I've learned about fencing is thanks to David, Stephen, and Ruby. They gave up so much of their practice time to teach me, and were somehow patient through the frustrations of learning how to treat a thin piece of metal as an extension of your arm which is in turn an extension of the wire springs that are a fencer's legs. And we got to know each other, somehow we all became best friends. I guess fencing attracts a certain kind of personality, quirky and interesting and intelligent and kind. All I know is I could spend all day talking about how cool my fencing friends are, Stephen who's like a brother to me, Victoria who's a 500% nicer version of me, Foil-Mama David, Tommy who crushes lizard skulls in his free time, Sean the adorably neurotic punk, I could go on and on. What a cast of characters. There should be a reality TV show about us. Anyway, I didn't mean to go on and on about my friends because that's not very interesting to read about, but the point of all of this was that when you play sports, you become close with your teammates which is the best way of making friends I've found so far. And I am a very different person thanks to the people I met last year and my relationships with them.

4) You belong on the field.

In organized sports, everyone has a role. In frisbee, you're a handler or a cutter. No matter where you are on the field, you know what your job is. If you're a chaser, you look to open a window deep and then come under either as a continue or as a cut if the shots did not get open. (Yes, I realize this means nothing to you if you don't play frisbee.) On defense you're even more necessary. If it's man-on-man defense, you have to follow your girl, and if you don't do that, in all likelihood she'll score and that point is all your fault. In zone defense you're responsible for an area of the field, and not doing that makes the rest of the defense fall apart. My point is, you are necessary when you're on the field. You can't hang back because you think the other people on your team will do a better job. You know what you need to do and your team is relying on you to do it.

My coach Robyn mentioned an article that I can't seem to find right now talking about how women's sports (and specifically Ultimate) are so important because they teach women to be unafraid of their bodies, unafraid to take up space and be physical and use what they've got. All too often I see girls who try to take up the least amount of space possible. If they're tall, they stoop a little in embarrassment. They weave through crowds where large men usually just walk straight and people move aside for them. I experimented recently with not moving out of my way for people on sidewalks, just to see what would happen. I got ran into a lot and got some surprised looks, and eventually figured out a technique of walking with squared shoulders, head up, and looking people in the eyes that somehow made people step aside for me. This is why girls should play frisbee. Take up space! Box your girl out, and run as aggressively as you can in her space without making it a foul. I saw this at camp this summer too – when girls don't have mirrors for 4 weeks and are forbidden from using makeup or wearing pretty clothes by the circumstances they're in, somehow they become more comfortable with their bodies. They get muscle from canoeing, they get pride from portaging canoes on their head, and they get respect for how hard they work. They're worth what they can carry, what they can do to help, and how they contribute to the group, not what they look like. (Incidentally, one of my favorite parts of being a counselor was getting to break the mirrors off the port-a-potties so they wouldn't see themselves for 4 weeks. 21 years of bad luck here I come!!)

I want everyone to feel like they belong in whatever space they're occupying. Sometimes I'm on the field not knowing where to cut or how to help, but my goal now is to just cut more until I figure out how to do it better. By not participating, you're hurting your team, so get out there and be a presence on the field. You belong in your space. Own it.


So go out and play a sport. You might learn something. I learn something every single practice, and it's an amazing feeling.