Uncrossing Lacrosse: hiting physics frustration with a stick

THE PRE-POST:
As ironic as it is, I’m going to start this series of rants (mainly against the suburban, blond patriarchy and whatnot) with the most preppy sport next to field hockey… lacrosse. Let us clear up one thing right now.

I do not have blond hair.

And I can’t put what hair I do have in a ponytail.

And even if I COULD wear my hair in a ponytail I wouldn’t do so with a RIBBON.

Now that that is out of the way, to THE POST!

(not the POST, not THE POST, but THE POST!)
(Pre-knowledge note, I go to Swarthmore College.)

THE POST:

To be honest, I never liked sports before I went to college. My family comes from a long line of German peasant stock, and our “natural athletic ability” comes from historically being hitched to the plow when the horse had been eaten for Sunday brunch. We’re stocky, big boned, and can run forever but not very fast. Needless to say, there are no plows in contemporary sports, especially (since plows and other such things are strength based) for girls. Thus, I felt that my talents were much more appreciated in the academic sphere.

Furthermore, I attended public arts high school. A public arts high school. A public arts high school. (Please note that the number of times I repeat “public arts high school” is exponentially proportional to the funding troubles we ran into when we couldn’t cut our art programs like other normal schools.) A public arts high school. A public arts school. To simply state the problem, when you can’t cut art you end up cutting PE, the logic being that creative types would rather drink a bottle of Robitussin straight rather than run a mile anyway. Many actually liked drinking Robitussin, but that’s another problem altogether. Thus, when not going through emotional catastrophes while being slathered in paint to the hallway echoes of a perfect rendition of RENT’s “One Song, Glory,” we played Frisbee or tag in gym class. Our biggest sport (practically our only sport) was track. Why? What equipment do you need for track besides a pair of shoes and a masochistic personality? An artists can be masochistic, trust me. Track was Goth rehab turned into a hideous parody of normal high school prep society.

Anyways, upon arriving at Swarthmore, I had the brilliant idea that I should play a sport. Why? Well, there was a daily all you can eat buffet, with all you can eat ice cream... need I say more? Given that I hated every sport I knew about, I decided to try lacrosse because I had absolutely no idea what it was. Thus there was about a 10% chance that practices wouldn’t be Hell, compared to the 100% chance that I’d hate my life if I played tennis or baseball or track. I got to the first meeting and someone asked how much I knew about lacrosse. My reply was something like “Depends… is lacrosse what you do with that stick?”

Strangely enough, in contrast to my horrible expectations and motivations, I found myself liking lacrosse. In fact, I loved it. Now maybe it is just the brain-crushing, soul stealing pressure that is Swarthmore, that strange mentality of Swat’s professors that if you’re not dying you don’t have enough homework, but lacrosse rapidly became the highlight of my day. When compared to quantum physics (where the rules change depending on how you measure them), a sport is bliss. The concepts are laid out in clear English, you know how to work towards improvement, and all that’s asked of you is to work towards that improvement until you hyperventilate. As a Swarthmore student I ask, is anything easier? Is that all you want? Lacrosse became the only two-three hours where I forgot my doubts about my own intelligence, dedication, and desire. I would forget about my ambition and extensive plans for the future, my thought processes forced into “Ball! Hey look, ball! Ball on ground! My ball! My ball!” Rarely have I not lamented the end of a practice, and I believe that in an idea world, we’d practice (and have the time to practice) at least four hours a day.

This essay is making me laugh as I write it. I really had no idea what I was getting into that first day. However, now I’m thinking about how depressing my (somewhat) inevitable graduation is going to be. Why can’t the NCAA have teams for graduate schools!? Oh well. Even if this experience ends forever in two years, I couldn’t have asked for a better way to burn off that ice cream, and better people to do it with. Furthermore, I doubt I would have made it through my current 2 years at Swarthmore, if it hadn’t been for lacrosse. Rarely does something in life have such defined rules, clear expectations, solid objectives, and the ultimate goal of “have fun.” Admit it, that’s frigging cool. When was the last time someone commanded you to enjoy yourself? Getting out onto that field is all the vacation I’ll ever need. If you ask me, lacrosse is life as it should be.

THE POST POST:

Writing this raised a few questions for me. The first is that, for me, a sport has become a necessity. Without it, my thoughts (many of them true) about my inability to compete with the genius of my fellow Swarthmorians infuriates me to the point that I can’t function. If it wasn’t for lacrosse, I would have given up, or transfered, after my first two semesters.

So then what does this say about my high school? Or about any high school where students don’t have enough of access to sports?

What does this say about education? That the education system, even in a college like Swarthmore, doesn’t possess the resources, the clarity of structure, or the flexibility to help struggling students cope?

Furthermore, sports that are easy to come by, like soccer, basketball, and track, are based a lot on natural ability and past training. For sports like these, there often isn’t a place for a high school or a college walk on. Sports where walk on’s can happen, like lacrosse and field hockey, are ridiculously expensive. So what happens to those students of modest means who found middle school easy, but have faltered in 9th grade?

Some things to think about…