Southwestern College Collegian

Issue date: 4/23/08 Section: Sports

Every era of your life is going to be different. It goes without saying that a person grows as they change and change as they grow. But we always seem to want to be some place in the past. This past weekend I strode past a few youngsters who looked to be in the 10- to 12-year-old range. They were kicking a soccer ball around, and I doubt they could have found a reason to be happier. That's not really much younger from where I am. A decade passes faster than you would imagine, in that instant it seemed more like a decade times 20. I'd had trouble coming up with a topic for the week until that instant. It was fitting that they made me think of an idea, for they represented what I had forgotten about. They represented the fun of sports. By the time I got to high school I had forgotten what T-ball had taught me. I was worried about missing a free throw or missing a block. If I did either of the two I would scold myself afterwards. In the classic T-ball nights I'd had years before, I didn't care if I swung for the fences or swung and got air. It didn't matter because I got to have a snow cone with the rest of the team after the game. I'd have on my stirrups, cleats, and hat and I'd beg my mom to let me stay a few more minutes to talk to the guys before we had to go. By that time my hands were covered with syrup, and I needed a napkin in a bad way, but I didn't care about that. I didn't even care that my glove had long been misplaced. I was having fun. Some things didn't change when I got to high school. I was always playing for women. It was the type of women I was playing for who changed. In high school, I never had the nerve to look into the stands, but I never could seem to rid myself of whatever girl had caught my eye that week, a fact that my oldest brother always scolded me for because he wanted me to pay attention to the task at hand. Maybe he had gone down a similar path? But whoever the girl happened to be, she made me want to do what it took to look impressive. The same can be said about my younger days. I'd always wanted to please a lady in the stands. At that point though, it was my own mother. A 10-year-old kid thought the best he could do by his mom was make the play. For that matter, anyone I called family in the stands was enough motivation for me to do well on the court. It was fun to play for them. Post 16 or so, I started to misunderstand my coaches. Every one of them seemed to be talking nonsense. They didn't know what was good for me and didn't give me enough freedom. That was a far cry from the days when coaches were part of the reason you played the game. They were role models to me. Surely that had nothing to do with the fact I didn't develop my stubbornness until around the same age I stopped liking my coaches. Before the stubbornness stepped into play, I'd just listen to what the ol' ball coach had to say. I didn't show my slightly-below-average maturity and think I was right all along. Back then I was just letting the coach coach. I was having fun. I did a lot of things differently when I was younger. I guess the way I thought of sports was just a small part of a big picture, but maybe they are where the problem starts. And maybe we can use them as case in point for the turns that come in life. Sometimes I punch walls because I can't find a shirt I want to wear. The little things don't seem so small anymore, but if you can remember the way that snow cone made you feel after a day's work, your perspective might be a better place. Don't forget those memories. They should outlast the sugar rush they gave you. That was back when you had fun.

Page 1 of 1

Article Tools