Lessons from the Goal Line

     Those who know me well know that I am not by any means a huge fan of football. I'm not sure how exactly I seemed to miss that gene -growing up in the south where both loyalties and rivalries run deep and seem to take on a life of their own- but I did. Whilst all my friends spent their Saturdays in pulsing college towns, clothed in team colors and legacy pins, I was involved in other activities and never once worried that I was missing out. There was nothing wrong with the games, they just weren't for me. There were, however, two exceptions to this rule: I loved going out and actually participating in the sport -whether through powderpuff games at school or saturday rounds of ultimate between churches- and I loved to watch my high school play. There is something to be said about attending a game that you have heard being talked up for weeks, when all you hear in class, at lunch, during breaks is how many points someone is going to score, what elaborate plays will be run, and other reports of imminent victory. It's endearing, I guess.
 

  Because of this, whether the night finds the school meeting against a cross-town rival or a relatively unknown opponent, the way you view the game changes. It becomes personal as you stand and cheer with your friends, wait to see how well the surefire plans actually pan out, and memorize moments that you know will be major talking points come Monday morning. This aspect of community, more than anything else, has gotten me through what has become a Friday night tradition for the last six seasons, game after game spent learning how to balance while standing on top of bleacher seats -often in heels- in the middle of a pulsing student section, and remembering somewhere amidst the freezing cold, the cramped quarters, and the pom-poms that would inevitably make accidental contact with people's faces, just how much fun it is to be a participate in something like that, an event where people are so passionate and so excited, to be part of a whole in a moment that you cannot completely understand or explain, but will never forget either.

Which brings me to this post...

This is the part of senior year that I hate.  Amidst all of the expected decisions and celebrations and milestones the year plays host to a much less glamorous collection of lasts. Last volleyball trip, last Homecoming week, and most recently, last football game.

Sometime while watching the clock tick down the seconds, everyone -players, fans, coaches, parents- began to face the possibility that had been lurking in the back of their minds for much of the quarter -this was it. Six years of blistering summer practices, hours in the weight room, and nail-biters spent under the bright florescent lights of the field could be felt as they came to a close in those final moments and listening to the band's final song took on a different meaning as the defeated faces we looked into were those of our boys and our grade who would never step foot on that field again. Having recently gone through the same situation during the state volleyball tournament, it was not at all difficult to imagine what was going through their heads.

While high school sports are by no means the most important part of life as a whole, they do represent many hours of determination, friendships formed, and memories made. There is nothing that can replace the feeling of a loud, energetic crowd reacting to your performance and the knowledge that all of those people stopped what they were doing to watch you and your teammates do what you love. Moreover, the lessons these experiences teach contribute a great deal toward the people that we are and are becoming. However, becoming these new people requires change and like anything else in life, sports are no different.

As we enter into the new phases of our lives next fall, much will be the same. We'll still be attending classes like we have for years in high school, semi-formals and formals will replace the country club dances we've grown up with, and numerous opportunities for social events will still abound. On the other hand, one of the key facets of these last few years that will not remain for the majority of us is our sports. While there are plenty of opportunities for intramural teams in college and even a few afterwards, it will not be the same. The feeling of pulling on a jersey and going out to prove just what you're capable of to not only your coaches, your friends, and your school, but yourself as well is unique and may only be found in this one chapter of our lives and while it means something different to every person, it is nonetheless invaluable to each.

So even though our status as players and cheerleaders and coaches by no means defines us, and though we realize that in the grand scheme of the rest of our lives what a short and seemingly minor chapter it is, it is important and the feelings it brings are important and as a result, it's alright to sit for a while and recount final drives and battles conquered and trophies won, memories and mistakes made. Because while some may argue that these activities are in no way world-changing or of any incredible importance, the friendships we've formed, the things we've accomplished, and the lessons we've learned have changed our worlds.

Purpose, Purpose, Purpose

     It's been a long day. You know the kind. A day full of back to back appointments, countless people to please, and a list of To Do's that seems to double each time you turn your back. A day of last minute homework assignments scribbled before the bell, of hurried cafeteria lunches spent catching up on a weekends worth of news, and of that English test you forgot about on the book you never bothered to read anyways. Or it's an entire day spent with nothing to do. Of sleeping in, ice cream and pizza and chocolate, and more episodes of your favorite T.V. show than you'd be willing to admit. A day filled with ideas for progress and possibilities that go largely ignored because, after all, that would require work and if your oversized, flannel pajama pants are any indication, none of that is getting done today.
     Whichever way -or combination of ways- that you chose to spend your day, whether it will go down in your book as a successful 24 hours, and despite how it has left you emotionally, one thing is evident -you are exhausted. So you slip in to bed and turn off the lights, relieved that the day is over and it is finally time to rest. Only it's not that simple. The longer you lay there sinking into the cool of your pillow and trying to will yourself to sleep, the clearer it becomes. You may have been able to wash away the physical mementos of your day -the makeup, the sweat, the dirt- but there is something that you seem unable to shake. Something from your day -a particular sight, exchange, or feeling perhaps- returns to your mind, demanding that it be felt and explored and considered. It is in this moment of recollection that you realize that sleep -at least for the time being- is not an option and choose instead to face whatever pressing idea has filled your mind.
     For this brief period, you sit in the quiet and think. Half-asleep and patrolled by a looser sense of practicality, your mind is free to wander and concentrate as and where it wishes. Depending on the night and the catalyst, this leads you in wildly different directions. You take a hard look at your life and decide that you are not all that you would like to be, that you had hoped to be by this time and mile in your journey. You vow to be a better person; to eat better, be kinder, read more, exercise...maybe. Or you decide that you're pretty decent after all and set high and noble goals because in the solitude of your moment, with no one to tell you otherwise, you feel that you can do anything. And maybe you can. Or maybe your mind went in a different route altogether -introspection is not everyone's thing. You decided to tackle a certain issue instead, a problem that you have perceived in the world around you. It might be a global conundrum -a topic of political debates and blog posts worldwide- or something from the world around you -an issue with the way something is handled, a challenge in the life of a friend, a problem that while smaller in scale is of no less importance to you. It might not even be problematic, just something in your life or your day that continues to hold captive your attention. As you ponder it, you begin to realize a great many things about the world around you, evaluate your place within it, or problem solve until you remedy the troubling situation -at least in your mind.
     By the end of this period, you have progressed through a myriad of possible emotions and stages. You have experienced moments of extreme passion, thoughtfulness, inadequacy, contentment, depression, clarity. However, sometime between the making of your midnight vows and ideas and your waking up the next morning, you lose a measure of these. It is almost as if the feelings or even the ideas themselves snuck away as you drifted -finally- to sleep and remain just out of your reach. You forget little by little the keenness of your sense of perception and the tangibility of your ideas and the intensity of your personal call to action. By the time your morning shower is over and you begin the search for acceptable clothing and breakfast options, you have put the late night musing away almost completely, storing it away somewhere deep within your brain in order to make room for the flood of new thoughts and feelings that the coming day will bring. You leave it there until something else in your life brushes off the dirt and requires you to re-examine it once again.
     This happens to me time and time again often because the late, quiet hours of the night seem to be the only times to think. Following the craziness and business of a full day, they are a welcome relief and a time to reorient myself. However, the ideas rarely survive into the daylight hours. Days are full, energy is in limited supply, and there are  not enough hours to see everything that has been pondered or decided in the night through to fruition. It is simply not possible. And so my midnight monologues become just that -monologues, a collection of pretty -or not so pretty- words that never move beyond the quiet darkness of my room. That being said, this is my way of documenting those, of being able to remember my ideas -the ones that seem to be so pressing and urgent and interesting- long after I've awoken and moved on. It's to hoping that even those that may never transform themselves to action can serve to inspire or convict me -and possibly you- in the days to come.