Sudden death overtime. What a shocking image: sudden death. Both teams play until one scores and terminates the other’s season. For some, it marks the end of a collegiate career. For me, it was the death of a part of me that I’m still trying to find a replacement for. [end of more than just a season. Do I describe final scene here or at end?]
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 the ninth grade, I tried my hand at basketball. I fell in love with the sport, but the level of my commitment overshadowed my level of talent. The next winter, after agonizing for weeks, I decided not to play basketball my sophomore year because I was worried about being able to juggle my demanding academic schedule and basketball. I did not want to shortchange either, so I switched to field hockey. Field hockey had a shorter season and it looked interesting.
[Falling in love with the sport.]
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 wept alone. 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. [I knew somehow that I was at the end of something. Was it “easy” to let go at this point? Why does it seem like it was easier than now?] 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. [Describe fall in the Berkshires?] 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. Volleyball only had varsity. I thought my chances of making a team were better with hockey. 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. [Describe Kelly Faucher pushing ball at top speed.] 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 knew, the varsity goalie looked over to the head coach, started waving one arm in the air, and yelled, “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.
I don’t remember many details from my first weeks as the JV goalie. I do remember the friends that I made.
Fumbling with my new role. Asking for help – sort of. Comical moments – holding stick in wrong hand.
First away game at trinity. Wonder and awe. In that instant, I found the identity that I would assume and cultivate for the following four years.
Relationships and a sense of belonging
Developing a philosophy of goalkeeping
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
Mourning the loss of identity. Not letting go gracefully.
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