What Sports Mean to Me
By: Alexandra Donovan
“If you want something done right, give the job to the busiest person.” I can still hear the sound of my dad’s voice telling me this whenever my younger self complained about being tired, not wanting to play a second sport or just wanting to have a day off. It seemed unfair to me at the time. Why was I the only kid on my teams who never was allowed to miss a practice, even if it was cold or raining? Why were “optional” practices never optional for me? Although it seemed painful at the time, I now see how playing sports has shaped me into the person that I am today — a person who works hard, rarely misses school, never misses deadlines and does not take shortcuts.
Sports have been an integral part of my life since I was three years old. My dad was a linebacker at Davidson College — a D-1 athlete, as he always reminds us — and he made sure to instill the values he learned as an athlete in my sister and me. I played on so many teams, with seasons that sometimes overlapped, that I often found myself changing uniforms in the car or on the subway to make it in time for the next game. My multiple teams, and the various games and practices, made it difficult to finish my homework before midnight most nights. By the time high school came around, however, my years of multitasking had given me strong time management skills and the ability to handle whatever my teachers and coaches threw at me.
Another positive trait I attribute to my participation in sports is my competitive nature and grit, which have carried over into my academic sphere. My first experience with this occurred when I was playing in a lacrosse tournament for my seventh-grade travel team, the Long Island Liberty. It was an all-day tournament in the summer heat, and I could feel the sun beating on my skin and the sweat beads forming as I ran up and down the field. My heart was racing in my chest, partially from the heat and humidity and partially from my personal anxiety from playing on an elite Long Island travel team, above the level of play I was accustomed to in Brooklyn.
My coach pulled the team into a huddle and asked me if I wanted to come out of the game and rest, or move to the attack position, since I had been playing midfield and taking the draw for the entire game. Taking the draw was my specialty, and I had worked all off-season to become the starter. But, I was exhausted and very overheated, and the thought of running for another half- hour seemed daunting.
My eyes darted between my coach and the girls on the bench who were waiting to take my spot in the game if I decided to rest. It was at that moment that all the hard work, and the years of never missing a practice, or being too tired to play that second game, paid off. I told the coach that I felt fine and wanted to stay in and to keep taking the draw.
So, that’s what I did that day, and pretty much every day since then. I decided right there on the field that I would not — perhaps could not — be the girl that gives up when things get difficult. I realized, through sports, that I had become the girl who perseveres when facing obstacles. This included the time the following year when I fractured a bone in the bottom of my foot at the beginning of lacrosse season. The doctor recommended rest, but I knew I could not waste my time on the bench, so I played each game, as a midfielder, and iced my foot during halftime and after each game and practice. I will always carry these moments, and the many other defining memories I created as an athlete, to help me as I move through life. The work ethic, and spirit of grit and determination, that I developed through sports has helped me succeed academically as well.
There are difficulties that also come with being an athlete, however, and sports have given me memories of losses and failures that I’ve had to deal with. But, even those memories have shown me that it is how a person comes back from those setbacks that build his or her character.
The most difficult time for me was when I was in eighth grade, and was invited to try out for my school’s varsity lacrosse team. In preparation for the tryout, I trained hard with a private coach and dedicated myself each day to the off-season workouts. My hard work paid off, and I was invited to play with the varsity — and started — as an eighth-grader. Although I had far stronger skills than most of the other girls on my team, I was roughly four or five years younger than most of them. Instead of welcoming me and supporting me, as I expected, the older girls shunned me and kept me isolated from the rest of the team. In fact, after I scored the team’s first goal of the season, no one even congratulated me. I felt embarrassed when I held up my stick, and no one came over to cross sticks with me — the lacrosse version of a high-five. Before long, they stopped even passing me the ball, even when I was wide open for a shot. It was like they were afraid that if I played well, then it would reflect badly on them, even if we won.
I had always been a quiet player, and I let my actions on the lacrosse field speak for themselves. I listened to what my coaches told me, and then went out and played my best. When I was playing with girls my own age and I talked, people listened. When I called for the ball, my teammates passed me the ball. I took the draw to start every play, so I was like the team’s quarterback, and I got to lead almost every play. All of a sudden, everything was different, now that I was playing with much older girls on varsity. Not only was I no longer the leader, but, even though I was one of the best players, I barely got to touch the ball. When I met with my coach to ask her what I should do, she told me that I had to “advocate for myself.” To advocate for myself, as a 13-year-old girl playing with 17-year-olds and 18-year-olds, seemed impossible. Instead of taking charge, with both my voice and my actions, I grew silent, and my calls for the ball began to happen less and less. Some games I didn’t shoot at all, even though it was my job to score. When I got the ball, I immediately passed it to someone else and stopped shooting. It started with one girl — the team captain — screaming at me to “move” or “get out of here,” whenever I set up for a pass in front of the net. Then the other girls began to do it, and before long, I had lost my confidence. I was no longer the girl who dominated the game for my team.
Eventually, I stopped talking with my teammates entirely, both on and off the field. I would no longer run over to hit their sticks when they scored a goal. I pretended to be too busy with homework to talk to anyone on the team bus, and I usually sat alone pretending to do my homework. I couldn’t wait for the season to end, and to go back to my summer travel team, where the girls respected and supported me. It took some thinking after this experience of what kind of athlete and what kind of person that I wanted to be. Would I be the girl that gave up when things got tough… or the girl who fought back when others least expected it?
I decided that I could not give up sports — they were my whole life and a large part of my identity, and more important, I could not give up on myself. I needed to show those girls, and myself, that I would get back up each time they pushed me down, and I needed to be able to do this in life as well. I came back the next season stronger and better than ever. We had a new coach — one smart enough to know that a 13-year old being bullied by her much older teammates cannot advocate for herself — and new captains, and I had a fresh start. But I also had a new perspective, which I have kept until this day, and will hopefully keep forever.
I have become a strong anti-bullying advocate on my team and at my school. I have used my experiences to make sure that we embrace and support all of our teammates, especially the younger players on the team. This negative experience has made me a stronger and better person, because I now have more empathy for people who sometimes suffer in silence, and I try my best to help and support them. Without having been involved with sports most of my life, I do not think I would have been able to see life from the perspective I enjoy now.
