personal essay - rough draft

Sudden death overtime. What a shocking image: sudden death. Both teams play until one scores and terminates the other’s season – and for some of us, our collegiate athletic careers.

I had never imagined that I’d play varsity sports in college. I had been a valued member of my high school teams, but I knew my limitations. In the early nineties, my high school was the kind of place where a kid with no previous experience in a sport could try out for the JV team and play. With hard work and dedication, one could make up for the lack of summer sports camps and private lessons.

In my first days at Williams College, I cried often, but secretly. One afternoon, I retreated to the 4th floor bathroom of my dormitory, sat on the cold, tile floor, and bawled my eyes out. I had not expected the effect that moving 3,000 miles away from home would have on my 18-year-old self. An intense sadness hit me as soon as I turned away from my father at the boarding gate at SFO. Of course, I couldn’t let him see me cry, so I held it together until I was safely buckled in my seat. Even then, I tried not to let my emotions show. I knew that I was going through an adjustment period, but understanding with my head did not comfort my heart.

On the East Coast, it turned out that the two sports I had enjoyed the most in high school, volleyball and field hockey, competed during the same season: Fall. After determining that I probably wouldn’t be able to compete with the volleyball recruits, I decided to try out for the field hockey team, which fielded both junior varsity and varsity teams. I did not care about varsity status. I just wanted to play.

The only thing I remember clearly from my first day out on the field is my sense of awe at the stick skills of the varsity players. Coming from the West Coast, where field hockey is virtually non-existent, I had never witnessed anyone maneuver and manipulate the ball the way that these women did. I gave my best effort during the training drills, and the words of praise that one of the juniors offered me gave me hope. The focus and energy that were required during tryouts grounded me in something familiar from my past life. For at least two hours a day, I knew exactly what I was supposed to do, and that was comforting.

At the end of the second day of tryouts, I was walking back to the field house with the varsity goal keeper. I don’t remember how the subject came up, but I ended up telling her about my experience playing 30 minutes of a game as the goalkeeper for my high school team when the regular goalie, who was a boarding student, took off at halftime to catch a plane home. Next thing I know, the varsity goalie looks over to the head coach, starts waving one arm in the air, and yells, “Hey, Chris! This one’s played goal before!” I didn’t know it then, but that moment marked the beginning of the most formative experience of my college years.

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First away game at trinity. Wonder and awe.
Relationships and a sense of belonging
Developing a philosophy of goalkeeping
Fear and courage
Duty and sacrifice
Lessons learned and what this experience meant to me
Team and sport as a microcosm of life: the benefits and dangers of viewing it this way.
Issues of identity: shaping it, losing it