“I’m sorry, but you didn’t the make team.” A phrase that I’ve heard too often.
Ever since elementary, I’ve tried to be more than just books. I have tried to be more than the just the little smart girl that everyone saw me as. How could I accomplish that? Through sports of course.
There are many words that I could use to describe myself, but athletic is not one of them. I first learned this is in the seventh grade.
As I strolled through the halls of my junior high school, I noticed a sign posted on the wall. “Cross-country try outs after school. Boys and girls welcomed.” That afternoon as I made my way to the field, I realized that some of the other kids were staring at me. Is there something in my hair, I wondered.
“What are you doing here?”
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Play sports? Ha! I’ll love to see that.”
I was confused. Why was it so hard to believe? Had I already set an image of myself? One that did not include me and a trophy case full of 1st place prizes?
Even though I was a little bit bothered, I still continued to try out. After weeks of strenuous exercise and painful conditioning, I found it difficult to run for more than two minutes. So I didn’t make the team.
This was the first. The second came as I was in the 9th grade, and I saw a similar sign to that same one in junior high. “Girls’ junior varsity basketball tryouts after school.” That afternoon, as I entered the gym, I was greeted by stares and murmurs from amongst the crowd.”
“You come to watch the tryouts?” someone asked
“No, I’m here to try out.”
“I’ve never seen you stepped foot inside the gym before. This isn’t quiz bowl. It’s a
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As I saw that one flyer. “Cheerleading tryouts after school.” Maybe, this was it, I thought as I made my way to the field. Everything was expected. The murmurs, the stares, the confusion. Everyone was surprised to see me, yet I still couldn’t understand why.
Cheerleading was different, there wasn’t much involved. There was no running, which I failed at terribly. No balls. Nothing that my knowledge in Math could’ve helped me with. Not like it had helped me before. But it was simple.
So, I made cuts. There were no “sorry you didn’t make the team.” But “congratulations on making the team.” It was different. As I walked through the hall the next day, I was met by so many faces and hands. “Congratulations. Good job.” Some from those who doubted me from the beginning. But it didn’t matter now, because I had proved them wrong.
Not making that track team back in seventh grade, only opened a door of opportunities for me. It gave me experience. Life just simply said, this is not for you. Try something else. Instead of becoming discouraged, I followed the signs. I moved on to something else. They all lead me to cheerleading. Now as I stand in front of the whole high school, in my skirt and pom poms, there are no more murmurs, only