Hi Again!

Hello everybody! I just wanted to apologize for taking so long to post again, I know its been a long long long long long long long long long time (and I’m sure still longer than the amount of time it took you to read that).

The soccer season is over by now, and since starting in July, I would say a 4 month season was plenty. However, despite all the complaining I did about the long practices and endless conditioning, my time has never been as well spent as it was during this season. Monday through Saturday I spent with my team, out on the fields working on drills and running and headers and crosses and running and corners and free kicks, and did I mention running? Back in July we welcomed in the new freshmen after saying goodbye to the old seniors, and rebuilt our happy, misfit, and sometimes dysfunctional family.

In previous years people have said that our coach, Stan, was like the second Uncle of the family. For a long time he was the authoritative leader that was not to be crossed, and even, although we hate to admit, feared by the team. But this year, he listened to what we had to say and what we wanted to change, and went above and beyond to make it happen for us. And in return, we recognized that although some may disagree with his coaching style, none can say that he is not dedicated to each and every one of us as players.

And this year was fun. We were winning, and somehow balancing working hard with having a good time in both our games and practices. With an undefeated record by the end of the season and a conference championship, we were excited and happy and pumped for the play offs.

There are many reasons that I wish our season hadn’t ended as early as it did. Yes, I wanted to win states. And badly. But also, I wanted that for my teammates and coaches as well. Although I probably wouldn’t have admitted it then, I loved spending all of my time with my crazy soccer family. Some of the seniors being a few of my closest friends, I’m sad to be past the last game I’ll get to play with them. But I look back on this season and see an amazing run, with so many high points that they almost completely hide the disappointing lows.

And don’t worry readers. Because next year, we’ll be back.

This Is It.

Since I started high school in 2009, this time of year has meant one thing: play offs. Like the pumpkin pie to my Thanksgiving or the Santa Clause to my Christmas (for those of you who are Jewish or simply don’t practice Christianity, please bare with me for a moment. I urge you to come up with a similar comparison, whether it be with dreidels, jack-o-lanterns, or tooth fairies!), Play offs is the creamy nougat center of my 3 Musketeers Bar (too far?).

            Today we played our first game of the tournament, and are thankfully moving onward. With the beginning of a hopefully long road ahead of us, I couldn’t think of any better way to start it than some pump up music. Here are the top five songs I listen to when getting ready for the play offs. Feel free to agree, disagree, or give back any suggestions you might have. Some of my stuff’s a bit outdated, but has kept me going all the same. To the first steps of a long awaited journey! (And no, I’m not afraid to admit that I feel like Odysseus or even Forest Gump right now. “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.”)

1.     Forever- Drake ft. Lil Wayne, Kanye West, and Eminem

2.     I Put on for My City by Young Jeezy ft. Kanye West

3.     Lose Yourself- Eminem

4.     Zombie Nation- Kenkraft 400

5.     Can’t Be Touched- Roy Jones Jr.

The True Holy Grail, Last Hoarcrux, Golden Ticket

Rewards, incentives, motives, prizes…… my life is bloated, bursting at the seams, leaking from the bottom, overflowing at the top with other people’s reasons why I should work my hardest (when honestly, I already am). Most of you out there have been familiar with point systems, privileges such as rewards cards for Walgreens or Frequent Flyer miles at Continental Airlines. Our school has a House system (which extends my delusion that I’m actually attending Hogwarts just a bit farther), which gives points for an assortment of deeds, ranging from community service to Field Day activities. However, every point system can step over the limit (or jump or leap or skip, specifically when someone mistakenly tried to give us House points for donating our organs last year….. long story. But that was more of a hundred yard jump over the line with a pair of moon shoes).

In sports, while incentives can be an excellent source of motivation for your team, can also push the limit. What happened to wanting to win simply just for the rights to sing We Are The Champions at the top of your lungs? Or for the pounding in your chest and the smile that, as hard as you try, can’t be wiped off your face? Like Indiana Jones, true athletes are on a quest. However, we aren’t looking for the Holy Grail, but the big W. And you won’t find it in the prizes or point systems (but feel free to double check). Being insanely competitive (which, as most of you know, doesn’t come in handy when playing friendly games of Monopoly or ping pong), is pretty much enough motivation for me. And I’m not unique by any standards; most athletes can remember at some point in their lives screaming that the “game is stupid” or “someone’s cheating”, because by all means there’s no possible way you could be losing. Although this seems like a horrible trait (and I assure you it can be), I’ve found it pretty helpful in sports. So while your coach’s incentives may be well-meaning, tell he/she that you don’t need them. You simply want to win.

On a separate note, I want to congratulate all you lady hawks out there! Winning CVCs was a major feat, and we couldn’t have done it without any member from the team. We wanted to win, and we did. We worked hard for it and I am so proud of everyone. (Good thing we found the big W hiding in the back of the net). 

FML to BFFL

I don’t understand the people who say that autumn is their favorite sport. Yes, it’s pretty. And yes, there is the bonus of my birthday being on September 9^th (which I’m sure is the real reason that people across the globe love this dreary season). Between the showers of rain that seem to want to make the flowers (still standing) gargantuan monsters and lakes of mud that hide the ugly beasts who cling to your cars with sharpened talons, paralyzing your innocent Prius or Honda CRV.

Practicing sports in the mud isn’t any nicer. True, you get to slide and stomp and splish and splash in the mounds of not-so-chocolatey goodness (if that sounds oddly appealing to some of you). However, no one can argue that they like the feeling of dirt beneath their fingernails (or rather, no one can sanely disagree), or for that matter, in your hair, behind your ears, under your feet or splattered across your face. However, if I’m not here to cheer you up, than what am I doing? And so, here are my Five Reasons Why… that slimy brown gloop is your friend.

1.      For those of you who play sports with goalies, muddy conditions always make it harder for them to be on their game. So shoot! Your BFFL mud has got you covered, you can bet it’s going in.

2.      If you’re feeling slow, Mud has your back. He slows down your opponents and lets you catch your breath, no problem (true, he’ll probably slow you down a little bit too, but he won’t mean too. And anyways, that’s beside the point. Keep it positive!)

3.      If you feel your cleats look too clean and new (making them an envy of the other girls on your team, who therefore won’t pass to you), Mud will give them a good ol’ bear hug and you’re good to go!

4.      Mud loves being the scapegoat. Truly! It’s his favorite role to play. If you’re having a bad game, Mud will gladly take full responsibility, no questions asked. He’s just a good friend like that.

5.      And five, Mud is the kind of friend that will walk you all the way home. He isn’t shy; he’ll walk right up to your parents and introduce himself! He’s polite that way, you see.

Still not convinced that Mud is your friend? Fine, then go buy yourself a Swiffer Sweeper and be done with it. At least I tried… happy fall!!!

The Neon Shoe Issue

Although I just got my shoes last year, and they are not the least bit worn or weathered, I still want a new pair of cleats. If a player from another team decided to try to sabotage me by cutting holes in my cleats and spray-painting them yellow, I would be all the more grateful. Not that I don’t like my current shoes, because they have been pretty good to me, never complaining as I leave my sweaty socks inside them or get turf wedged in between their creases.  But when the mighty mail man (who my dog not-so-secretly despises), drops off a new soccer apparel magazine that has me drooling over the glossy pages. (However, I manage to do so in an elegant, lady-like fashion…)

Now I’m sure most of you know what the neon shoe issue is. Or if you don’t, you can probably guess what it is. Go on, give it a try… no idea?

The neon shoe issue is that when you get neon-colored shoes and play sports in them, people expect you to be pretty good at that sport. I mean, you did by neon shoes.

Okay, now back to me. Because this blog, after all, is about me (see the title if you don’t believe me). As I was flipping through the magazine, drooling a little bit, even getting teary eyed on certain pages (though I’d hate to admit it), I couldn’t help but stopping on the page with all the neon shoes. They are brilliant! Like highlighters that your feet can be cozily wrapped in: purples and blues and pinks and yellows and greens. Every month it seems that Nike out does itself, finding more and more combinations of neons to splash together on a shoe. And can you blame them? They look amazing. I’m tempted to sabotage my own shoes just to get a pair. But then I thought about the reputation they’d get me. I don’t want too high of expectations set for me, and especially expectations made because of my shoes! Some of you out there probably think the whole issue is pretty silly. And it is. But I can’t help fearing the neon shoes, and so I push the magazine away. Plus, Ole Faithful, lefty and righty, are calling me from the mudroom, asking to be rid of little turflets and nasty socks. And so, I walk away.

The Sole Survivor

Yes, the war is over. The battle to the death has come to a screeching halt; the winning gladiator spattered with blood… (okay, maybe I’m taking it a bit too far). But, as sad as it is to say, the Haiku Contest is finally closed. I just wanted to say that I appreciated all of your submissions, and if later on you come up with a winner of a Haiku, feel free to send it to me despite the fact that the contest is over. I love reading them, and although you may not get the tantalizing prize, at least you’ll get the satisfaction of getting a chuckle out of me. Which isn’t hard to do, but I appreciate it none-the-less. So now, what you’ve all been waiting for… the winning haiku!!! As promised, Here is the winning three lines... fifteen words… seventeen syllables… (If I was even remotely tech-savvy I would try to insert a synthesized drum roll here. But since I am not, rest assured that right now I am somewhere banging on my desk, or to my parent’s dismay, maybe even my dining room table.)

            The turf cuts me knees

            What a lovely day outside

            I wish we had grass.

            Although it was an extremely tough decision, this haiku stole the gold. Made the kill shot. Took the trophy. The author was left anonymous, and so I will forever wonder who sent me this delightful poem. (However, the ambiguity of it all adds to the appeal, I think). My favorite part is when the author uses “me” instead of the anticipated “my” in the first line. Whether a fortunate typo or some brilliant word choice, this made the poem made me think of a leprechaun clicking his heels together, like I was thrown into a world where the short man on the front of my Lucky Charms box invites me to come play soccer with he and the other cereal-eating, just-as-animated kids that I see every morning at the breakfast table. This made me think of some possible titles for the haiku, like A Leprechaun’s Dream of Frolicking in the Grass or At Least the Turf Don’t Come Up to Me Shoulders. However, as I am not the author of this poem, we all must be forever guessing. Excellent work Anonymous, please keep writing!

Haiku Contest

Black Under Armour

A hug that trumps one from you

When the rain falls down.

Turflets in my ears,

Sorry, what did you just say?

I couldn’t hear you.

One minute’s alone,

Sitting up on the scoreboard,

With it’s friend, pressure.

I never like it

When the crowd forgets to cheer,

The silence crushed me.

Haikus, haikus, haikus! The only type of poem that can be sane and insane, crazy and tame, silly and serious, all within three lines. 17 syllables. The object of this contest is to come up with the most creative sports haikus that you can think of. Post them in the comments below this entry, or email them to me at goohighschoolsports@gmail.com.

But contests are for competing and competing leads to winning and those who win are winners. And so, there must be a prize (to give to the winners for winning). The Prize: I will post the winning haiku in my next blog entry. So, with that tantalizing reward, create haikus! (But please keep them PG. And on a more serious note, try not to battle to the death on this one. Although I know you all are dying to win, It is not Gladiators.)

Our Narnia

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Legions of Air Buds

Now, I have two dogs. The one is sweet, kind, cuddly, and a little on the chubby side (but for those of you who have chubby dogs out there, you know its an endearing quality). He is a really great dog, but my family has accepted early on that he will not be the next Air Bud.

For those of you who missed the essential childhood experience of watching Air Bud, it’s about an athletic golden retriever who goes out for the soccer team, football team, baseball team… you get the point (they made a LOT of sequels, being quite the blockbuster hit. I’m still confused why it didn’t win an Oscar).

My other dog, though not a golden retriever and definitely not as well trained, might as well be Air Bud’s long lost twin (or maybe adoptive cousin, I’m not sure which). My dog Maggie seems to find energy when no one else in the house has any, bringing us tennis balls that we honestly couldn’t care less about, though we pretend to as to not break her little heart. Maggie likes tennis balls, footballs, golf balls, you name it; She’s called it her friend and chewed it up all in the same hour. When I’m in my backyard practicing my soccer skills (which should happen more often than it does), Maggie feels like she has to be apart of the “good time” I’m having. She takes the ball with her teeth and runs with it until she realizes I’m not chasing her.

I’m sure to some of you out there this story sounds vaguely familiar. There’s something almost creepy about how dogs can literally never take their eyes off the ball (I’m sure it’s magic, but since I haven’t gotten my owl yet I can only guess it is). But what’s the point? Other than getting frustrated and having a no-longer-usable, chewed-up soccer ball, football, golf ball, etc. And no, I’m not suggesting that you try and bring your dog to practice (although I have to admit, when our coach said we needed more players I immediately thought of my dog). The point is that those of you who have your own personal Air Bud residing in your house, feel free to use them. Try dribbling around them, making passes while they’re pressuring you, even trying to out run them to the ball. It’ll be good practice, and you’ll make your own Air Bud very happy. For those of you with cats or Chihuahuas… sorry, you’re out of luck.

Pre-Game Praying

Before I go on with this entry, I just want to make it clear that I am not trying to convert anyone. If I were, this blog would surely be called Goo in the Convent or Crusader Goo. But seeing as that it is not called either of those names, I assure you I’m doing nothing of the sort. Because this blog is called The Silent I in Team (for those of you who didn’t know, though I hope you would. It’s written right above this, you see), this blog is obviously, blatantly, self-centeredly, fabulously about me.

So, before soccer games (and sprints that really scare me), I quickly cross myself and pray. Nothing too needy, for I wouldn’t want to take an important prayer from someone who really needed it (although I’m not sure that’s how God works. Of course, I wouldn’t know). I usually pray for courage or strength (but don’t think I’m too profound, because I also sing Eminem’s very explicit rap songs while running my ladders and pyramids).

This normally helps calm my nerves, because most of the time, talking helps me with the pre-game/ pre-sprint jitters. Yes, I could probably talk to my teammates instead. And after the game or sprints, I generally do. But beforehand, I tend to talk more than I should. When I’m nervous, I ask a lot of questions at a very fast pace, and often annoy whoever I’m talking to rather quickly. (By the way, this also applies to my track season, as well as my soccer season.) But if I say a prayer, I tend to a) talk less, because I’m not getting an immediate response and b) don’t annoy who I’m talking to (because I don’t think even the most annoying of people could annoy God. Or else, it’d be really hard to, anyways).

For me, praying is what gets me focused and prepares me for what I’m about to do. Whether it be praying or stretching or jumping or singing Eminem songs, you should do whatever calms your nerves.

School is starting in a week or so for many of you, and with the K Mart commercials there to constantly remind you, how can anyone forget. In roughly a week, we will have to go back to long days of class and longer nights of practice and homework (or rather, practice then dinner then shower then facebook then stumbleupon.com then more facebook and then maybe, just maybe, some homework). And it doesn't seem like there's much to look forward to now that late August is here. (The Green Day song, Wake Me Up When September Ends has always confused me. Why do they want it to be October? And wouldn't you rather wake up when May ends, when school let's out? But this is besides the point.)

The point is that although the end of August looks bleak, there are a few things that you as a high school athlete have to look forward to. For example, pre-season is almost over! You survived! All those sprints you ran and crunches you crunched and push ups you pushed are starting to have a purpose. Which brings me to my next point... you'll finally start playing games! You're starting to remember why you were practicing in the first place. Why you were conditioning. Why you were interrupting you're lazy days by the pool to go soak in the heat from the nice turf fields (which is another issue entirely). I love packing my uniform in my bag before heading off to school, pumping myself up throughout the day, counting down to 3:15 (even though it makes that slow, boring, last class of the day go by that much slower). We practice to play games. And we play games because we like playing them. And so even if homework has gotten you down (my summer reading not quite done...), the idea of classes and quizes and tests and grades and G.P.A.s and SATs has you feeling a little sad, remember that at least your season is finally here, it's finally game day and you're ready to play.

And for those of you who play winter or spring sports... you'll survive. You always do.

The Battle Between Turf and Grass

The on-going battle between turf and grass has been heating up as more and more turf fields are being built. Now, not only professional athletes get to feel the extra cushion from the little black ‘turflets’, but both colleges and high schools are also installing the plastic green grass in between their bleachers. Both turf and grass have their strengths and weaknesses. Turf doesn’t need to be cut, supplies athletes with a soft, even surface to play on, and doesn’t get plucked away by cleats (unlike grass, that seems to ‘disappear’ in the commonly-used areas of the field). Both hurt when you fall, although turf doesn’t normally stain your jersey. And both flood.

However, you can’t get around the fact that Turf isn’t real. I used to joke around with my friends about how our grandchildren will one day call grass synthetic turf instead of calling turf synthetic grass. But now, I’m starting to think that this might actually happen. The radical-thinking, kind-of-sort-of-really-crazy side of me is screaming, FIRST SYNTHETIC GRASS, THEN SYNTHETIC PETS, THEN SYNTHETIC PEOPLE! THE WORLD IS GOING TO BE TAKEN OVER BY ROBOTS! (Of course, I would never say this in public, only on the Internet…) But then, I quickly calm myself down and stop screaming inside my head.

Turf is now not only being used for athletics, but also for everyday landscaping. Someday, I predict there’ll be more ‘turflets’ than there is dirt, and more green plastic shreds than there are blades of grass. However, because I blog about high school sports, I’ll resist from pretending to know anything about modern landscaping.

From my perspective as a soccer player, each surface gives you a completely different game. Grass is less predictable regarding how the ball is going to bounce off of the ground, and Turf makes for a faster paced game (because of how the ball rolls faster). Most players have mixed feelings regarding the battle; neither side is generally favored. Between the turf and the grass, it generally comes down to hand-to-hand combat, angry squabbles on the playground and heated arguments at the dinner table. Which is better, turf or grass? Friendships have been ruined and families have been divided. Which side are you on?

The Fish Trick

I don’t know if any of you have ever been fed candy by your coaches at halftime, but if you have, you’ll know about the fish trick. The fish trick is when your coach gives you Swedish Fish in the middle of a game, hoping to spark your energy by giving you a sugar rush. Being me, I would be the last person to argue. Candy in between halves? I’m all in! But, I’ve found it hard to believe that a little red, gummy fish can make much of a difference in the second half of my soccer games. So curiosity may have killed the cat, but it left me perfectly fine. I searched for my answer on the Internet (the all-knowing, all-powerful. Mac stores? Giant shrines to today’s new best friend, the Internet. Of course, this is beside the point. And since I am no technology expert, I won’t pretend to know any more about it).

Now, typing ‘the fish trick’ into the search bar on Google didn’t do much. I guess not many people call it that (especially because I just made up that nickname for the purposes of this blog. It was a short title, you know? More appealing than Why Do Some Coaches Feed Their Athletes Candy in the Middle of their Games? Plus, that was much too long. Let me know if you can think of anything better).

From my reliable source, Yahoo! Answers, I discovered that the sugar in candy does give you a quick energy boost in the middle of a game. But it also depends on how much candy you eat. Does one little red gummy do the trick? And a sugar rush, as told by Yahoo! Answers, will roughly last from a half hour to an hour, depending on how much you eat. Now I’m assuming that one little red fishy will have you on the shorter end of that range, but even if I didn’t assume that, would you want to take the risk? Crashing from a sugar rush makes you instantly exhausted and sluggish.

Soccer games are split into two 45-minute halves. If you’re lucky, the crash wouldn’t hit you until after the game. But there’s a fair chance that it could zip away all of your energy and leave you melting away in the middle of the field sometime during the second half. (Well, I don’t think it’s that dramatic. But you will suddenly feel tired.)

For those of you who have never heard of the fish trick before, because your coaches haven’t fallen for it’s pseudo magical powers like some of mine have, than you’re in luck. No risk! But for those of you who are ever offered the little red fishy, feel free to decline. For those of you who took my advice (yay!), but are still looking for energy and want to avoid the forsaken ‘crash’, what do you do? Is there no hope? Well, don’t fear, because there is. Gatorade replenishes your electrolytes without giving you that crash that can be detrimental to the last few minutes of your game, the minutes that really count. And they’ve even created this new Gatorade Series that has five million different parts, a goop, a drink, and a shake. So how could they not know what they’re talking about? They do, I assure you they do. Why do you think so many athletes endorse their product? (Well, obviously because they get paid millions of dollars if they simply say they drink the stuff. But still, they must think it works if they’re willing to endorse it, right?) So the moral of the story is… say NO to the little red fishy, but drink the multicolored, electrolyte-packed Gatorade ocean that he swims in.

How to Use Sports to Get into College... Besides Playing Them

To you, this title may seem contradictory. How can you use sports to get into college without playing them when you get there? Yes, the obvious, number one way to get into college using your sport is by being recruited to play at said-school. But what about the rest of us? What about those of us who don’t really want to play a varsity sport in college (which is a whole other issue of itself, or a whole other blog…)? What do we do?

Well, I’ve been thinking about the answer to this question ever since I decided that I didn’t want to be an Olympic soccer player after freshmen year (because like all young athletes, I wanted to be a super star, a professional soccer player. I mean, what little kid, who likes sports, wouldn’t want to be made rich and famous by simply playing them?). Here are a few ideas I’ve come up with…

Firstly, just having a four-year commitment of any kind on a college application shows dedication and passion. Playing your favorite sport, and sticking with it even when your high school courses give you ten pounds of homework each night (for homework might as well be measured by how heavy it makes your backpack), shows a college that you persevered and are not a quitter. Also, you indicate that you are involved in your school community by merely having four years of a sport on your application.

If you are a captain of your team, you are exemplifying leadership qualities (which we have been told, from day one, is what colleges want to see. I mean, how many times have my parents tried to convince me to become class president? Numerous times. Even when I tell them that our school doesn’t really have class presidents? Still, they continue to insist I start my campaign). However, if you are not the leading sort, or simply because not every upperclassman on the team can be captain (as much as you all want to be), do not fret. For I have a couple more ideas up my sleeve.

If you like to write, you could write for your school newspaper’s sports sections. You’d get to show colleges your passion for the game through writing, and also add an academic extra-curricular to your app. Well done!

And lastly, for those of you who don’t like to write, well, you’re going to have to. Those daunting college essays that you have been dreading to write need to be finished, and you’re not sure where to start. What could you write about that shows a college who you are, but also makes you look good as well? Write about your sport! Tell them the lessons you’ve learned about the importance of teamwork and giving your best effort in every game, match, or meet.

No matter what your angle, there’s always a way to make your high school sport season worth the time and energy that it takes to compete.

Playing Like a Tomato

If you ever want to make a quick friend, offer a redhead sunscreen. This weekend, I got fried. Charred, Sizzled, and Super-baked (without Pam sprayed on the tray). Now don’t worry, I clipped my coupons and got 2 free bottles of Aloe with the one bottle of sunscreen I bought at Walgreens (ironic deal, I know). And everyone’s always nicer when you’re sunburned. My friend suggested I soak in milk, and the lady in the beauty department at the mall gave me free lotion (score!). But despite my best efforts, I can’t deny the fact that my skin is the color of a ripe tomato or a freshly painted fire hydrant (the one that the dog hasn’t peed on yet, I hope).

Although my friends and the lady at the mall have been sympathetic, my coach was not. Well, he was, but not to the degree of letting me skip practice. Which I suppose, is understandable. Because I wasn’t sick and wasn’t injured. But how well can I play when every time I bend my arms or knees, my skin crinkles? And not in the, oh-how-wonderful, I’m-unwrapping-a-candy-bar crinkle way, but in the utterly painful, hey-my-skin’s-not-supposed-to-crinkle way. Yes, I should’ve remembered to put on sunscreen. And to make up for it, I wore a long-sleeve shirt and sweats to practice (which quickly came off, because, as you guessed, it was sweltering hot). But how can I play my best when I’m hobbling around the field trying not to bend my knees? I felt like I was Frankenstein’s wife after being dropped in a pool of red Kool-Aid. And while this sounds funny now, at the time it was awful. Because when you’re sunburned, you’re not only reluctant to bend your joints, but also in the worst attitude ever imaginable. When I’m sunburned, it takes all of my energy to keep from cussing at the sun. If it were a bit closer (and if that didn’t mean our imminent end on earth), I would have surely socked the sun in the face by now. When not sunburned, I’m one of the cheeriest, happiest people I know. But once my skin turns that dark shade of red (akin to the Hulk’s dusky green), negative energy drips from my pores and I only speak in angry grunts. (Well, not actually. But how legit would that be?)

As an athlete, sunburns are some of the worst injuries you can get (from the category of injuries that you’re allowed to play on, of course. Compared to sprained ankles and torn ACLs, I’d definitely pick the sunburn). Now how you use this story is up to you. You could read this entry and think, ‘What a good idea! We’ll sabotage the other team by stealing their sunscreen the day before game day, and then lure them into the sun with candy and popsicles!’ (I hope you aren’t thinking that though, because that would be a bit bizarre.) Or you could read this entry and think, ‘Wow, note to self: put on sunscreen before I go to practice today.’ Or I suppose you could read this entry and think nothing of it at all. If you’re one of those people who doesn’t burn, I’m jealous. But you don’t have to pay attention to this entry. Go on with your perfectly sunburn-free day, and enjoy your unburnable skin. However, as for the rest of you, please wear sunscreen! 

To Scream or Not to Scream

This past weekend I went ice-skating with my host family in Harbin, China. Despite the minor setback of not having a pair of skates big enough for my feet (yes, I guess I should’ve assumed that they wouldn’t have women’s size 11 figure skates…), I had a lot of fun skating around and trying to avoid falling flat on my face.

This might sound like a fairly easy thing for me to do, but the limited space they gave us around the ice-skating lessons made it a challenge for myself. Although focused on my own struggle, I couldn’t help but turn and stare at the old, ice-skating coaches who were screaming at the four, five, and six year olds. A man wearing a Mickey Mouse helmet and wrist-guards who was eager to practice his English told me that they were training the young girls and boys for the China national team.

While I wondered what we were doing skating in circles around these mini super-stars, I couldn’t help but over hear their even more ridiculous coaches. And I didn’t have to eavesdrop or anything; they were yelling. The man with the Mickey Mouse helmet even told me that one of the girls was three! (Although why he knows that is an entirely other story…) Eyes blazing, brows slanting, spit spewing, these coaches screamed.

But what’s the point? Yes, to get better. And yes, to make the national team. But why does it seem like coaches believe that the only way to get there is by yelling? I know all athletes are different, and each coaching style works for someone. However, I personally think that yelling can’t make the situation better. Although some people argue that it doesn’t bother them, I’m not sure how much it helps.

From what I know about sports, one of the key things to be a good athlete is confidence. Coaches talk about it all the time, “have confidence with the ball” or “have confidence with the puck.” “Just be confident enough to take someone on, one on one,” and “don’t just get rid of the ball! Play with confidence!” True, maybe you’re coaches didn’t insert the word confidence into their every sentence, but you knew it was the point. So how does yelling improve that?

If the athlete doesn’t know what they’re doing wrong, that’s a different thing. But if you’ve ever had a coach who yells at you when you make a mistake and doesn’t tell you how to avoid it the next time, then you know what I’m talking about. If you don’t agree, no worries. I’ve heard the other argument before. But watching a three year old get yelled at for falling while attempting a spin that I could never do, I can’t think it’s helpful. Then, I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.

Tangent: LeBron James?

Now I know that I am high school sports blogger (because that’s what it says in my bio, and of course, bios are always right). But being a Clevelander, a Cavaliers fan (duh), an athlete—but not a basketball player… whatever, and an average American, I can’t help but talk about the NBA Finals. Not that I like tangents (which I hope to avoid, but admit will definitely plague my blog once in a blue moon), but I felt this deserved one.

I am sure that most of you reading this will know more about pro-sports and basketball in general than I will ever know, or ever plan to know. All I know is that LeBron choked. Being a high school athlete, like many other teenagers out there, I’ve obviously had my bouts of choking. But since girl’s high school soccer and track aren’t followed by the nation, let alone the world, I’m sure my experiences cannot compare to his. Not that I’m defending him, because I’m glad that Dallas won (go Mavericks!) and love to witness the king in his new castle. But knowing the pressure I feel playing/ running against another high school team, I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to play in the NBA.

Of course, I want to reiterate that I don’t know much about professional basketball. I know everyone out there has their own take on the situation, so if you’d like to share, I’m a good listener. But if you’re out there, reading this, and don’t really know enough about it to say anything, I feel ya. Or if you’re looking for a quick laugh, this article had me giggling—and I’m not even an NBA fan. Check it out, and let me know what you think!

http://sports.espn.go.com/chicago/mlb/news/story?id=6661570

Agility

Today, I worked on my agility. Now I don’t know if any of you reading this have ever been to China, but for those of you who haven’t, imagine a place where traffic laws are not obeyed. Imagine a place where pedestrians don’t have the right of way, turning signals aren’t used, and red lights are ignored. Then, you are in China.

Being a driver, these rules, or lack there of, can be considered an advantage. But being a pedestrian, you consider it a lucky day when you’ve crossed the street without getting in the way of a speeding bus or taxi. As for the native Chinese people, everyday is their lucky day. Their ability to stop as a car whizzes by, and then quickly dart across the road astounds me. Only with the help of my Chinese teacher can I be so lucky.

After crossing the street a final time today (and after uncrossing my fingers that were held behind my back), I thought about how all of this stopping and starting I was doing was improving my agility. Agility is important in every sport. The ability to stop quickly, turn around, and run at full speed in the other direction is a necessary skill that improves your game, whether it be football, basketball, soccer or lacrosse.

But what about those of you who don’t have a major Chinese city at your disposal? What can you do? Well, don’t fear my worried readers, there are plenty of things you can do. One exercise I’ve found particularly helpful, which I’m sure many of you would know, is running through the flimsy ladder that’s been laid flat on the floor. By stepping each foot into every square as quickly as you can, you get a good work out while focusing on your quickness and agility. Also, jumping rope and short suicides can improve your dexterity as well.

You could even work on your agility by playing red light green light. Yes, you might be too old for this game. But if you get your younger siblings, cousins, or even neighbors to play with you, you won’t feel as stupid or childish. You might even enjoy it, remembering why you liked the game so much when you were younger (although you would never admit it).

Packing

           Today, I leave for China on a school trip. Now being me, I left all of my packing to the last minute. Major mistake. Thankfully, after jumping up and down on the top of my suitcase a few times, and then getting my brother to sit on it, I finally got it zipped and ready to go (after frantically throwing my things inside, crinkling my shirts, shorts, and skirts with care).

            Because I'm going to be away for 5 weeks, I packed tons and tons of clothes. Now you're probably wondering, why is she telling me this? Why do I care? Isn't this blog supposed to be about sports? Well, try to be a bit more patient. I promise, I'll get to the point.

            Bringing tons and tons of clothes means that my soccer ball and cleats sadly just couldn't fit. (Which makes me feel oddly guilty, because after recently watching Toy Story 3 on Demand, I've started having this reluctance to leave behind inanimate objects.)Yes, I did get my running shoes smooshed in the bottom, and a few pairs of socks, so I should be able to work out and get ready for my season fitness-wise. But what about my foot skills?

            If any of you find yourself in the same boat, don't fear. We won't sink. Because I thought of a solution. If you aren't a soccer player, I'm sorry if this doesn't apply. But I decided to bring a hacky sack. Hacky sacks are much easier to squeeze into my already bloated suitcase, and I can hacky sack pretty much in any setting in order to work on my foot skills.

            For those of you who don't play soccer, there's also another solution. See if there's a sports store where you're staying. And then, I would recommend buying your football or basketball there. It'll be much easier on your pack-mule of a suitcase, and you'll still be able to get in your training before the season starts.

A Very Long Jump

This past weekend, I went with my Hawken track team down to the Jessie Owens stadium for the State meet. Due to pesky shin splints, I went down to Columbus to support my friends and cheer them on as they ran the girl’s 4 by 8 and the 1600. (Yes, I’m assuming that all of you know what that means. Because us track runners like to think we’re cool when we speak in our secret code of numbers. And we like to think we’re twice as cool when we measure things in meters instead of the friendly American yards.)

However, as I got distracted while at the track (partially due to my short attention span, and partially due to the angry glares I got from the people around me as a incessantly cheered for the girl’s 4 by 8 warm up laps), I found myself somehow at the long jump pit. Now I don’t know how I had managed to get over there, if I had walked or scootered or floated or flew, but I was suddenly watching the Division I boy’s long jumpers as they got ready to mark up the perfectly-groomed bed of sand. I felt like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, clearly not in Kansas anymore (although, to clarify, I never was in Kansas. I’ve actually never been to Kansas).

These boys flew. And I’m not exaggerating or emphasizing. These boys ran down the runway, leapt into the air, and flew. When spectators do what they do at track meets (spectate, of course), each person ends up being fascinated by a different event. True, at the State meet each event is spectacular in its own way, but there’s always that one event that a person walks away from the track thinking, How? And for me, this event is long jump.


Now I didn’t tell you all this to make you jealous, or to make you feel guilty for not making the trek to Columbus on the first weekend of June. So here’s a video for you of some insane long-jumping! And of course, if I’m going to show you long jumping, than I’m going to show you some of the best long jumping in the history of track and field. This is a video of Bob Beaman, the U.S. olympian who held the world record for long jump until 1991, achieved in the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City. Let me know if you feel the same way about long jump that I do! (And feel free to secretly enjoy the British narration just like I did when I watched this video for the first time.)

Juggling

For those of you who don’t play soccer, I apologize for the specificity of this following entry. Now, I’m not trying to discriminate, or play favorites among the sports, but juggling really only applies to soccer. (Although, it might improve your general quickness, because it requires quick feet. And quick feet make for a quick person, you know.)

Juggling is not the circus act of tossing big red balls into the air and trying to catch them at the same time, without letting anything drop (or tossing and catching oranges, if I’m reenacting it in my kitchen. However, I wouldn’t recommend doing so, unless you like eating bruised fruits). Nor is it the metaphorical term used when busy moms worry about getting little Timmy to baseball practice by 5 and little Tammy to ballet by 5:30. Juggling, or at least the soccer player’s definition of juggling, is keeping a soccer ball off of the ground by tapping it up with your foot or thigh (or, for the more adventurous of us, with your head, shoulder, foot, or thigh).

Although you will never really use juggling in a game (but if you’ve proven me wrong by juggling the ball up the field in a game before, props), juggling has helped me a lot with my quickness with the ball and my foot skills. Now I’m sure I still have a lot of room for improvement, but juggling has helped me tremendously when trying to control the ball and move it up the field. It’s also something you can do when you don’t have a lot of space, and when you don’t have a lot of time. You could even try hacky-sacking (which I have to say, is really really fun) to work on the same skill sets when you’re nervous about breaking something with your giant soccer ball in the only-for-nice-occasions dining room (although I would never recommend juggling there in the first place, much too risky).

And for those of you playing other sports, I’m sorry I don’t have much advice to give. You are always welcome to try juggling (although it might be a bit difficult with a football or hockey puck). Above is a video of some pretty insane juggling. Enjoy! (With some practice, you might even be able to make some money as a street performer like this guy! Gotta love Iya Traore.)

Nicknames

Trying out for my high school soccer team as a freshman in 2009, I was nervous and scared and excited all at once. Those of you who have been freshmen before will understand. And those of you who are going to be freshmen in the fall, I promise the butterflies go away.


Early on, in our pre-pre-season captain’s practices, one of the leading seniors on the team gave me my nickname. Now I know goober is probably not the first choice anyone would pick to be known by for the rest of their high school careers. However, I have come to love my nickname and like when people call me by it (of course, I was trying to push the nickname Super Star instead, or Princess Awesomeness, but this seemed to reconfirm my identity as Goo). I love it because nicknames always make people feel like their part of the team. They make everyone feel different and unique, and even helped me make friends once the school year started (because as my soccer teammates introduced me as Goo, people always laughed and asked why I’m called that. If nicknames aren’t anything else, they’re definitely a conversation starter!).


Nicknames don’t even have to be creative. They can be a shortened version of the person’s last name, or a play on one of their physical features that makes them stand out. (For example, in grade school I was often called carrot-top. Which, although I wouldn’t recommend it as a nickname for a high-schooler, was slightly endearing.)


Mine gave me the confidence to start going to a new school and make new friends (because with a name like Goo, you have to be a bit confident). On my first day of school, I felt like I owned the place. However, as a freshman I was quickly reminded that, as the popular saying goes, I was at the bottom of the totem pole.


But my nickname made being at the bottom of the totem pole a bit easier and a whole lot of fun.