Nov. 26, 2014
It is with a heart heavier than a charter bus and sadder than an athletic bus, that I say: It’s time for the sentimental blog. Yes, our NCCAA hopes are vanquished and our season is finished. On Saturday, we played and lost our last game against Grace College, a match which I’m unqualified to relay because I was a bit under the weather (and the knife) due to ACL surgery. Speaking of which, here is my official "Thanks-a-million" to Olivia Moore for stepping up and nailing the last blog. I’m sure we all would’ve loved to see what exactly a blog written by Prescription Oxycodon and Still-Lingering-Anesthesia would sound like. But, I’m 100% positive that Olivia’s sounded much better.
So, as I come to this - my last ever blog - with no ability to write about our last game, I guess I’ll just try to sum up this last season in such a way that leaves you more emotional than the people still recovering from last weekend’s premier of Mockingjay. For those of who remain unaffected by that reference, just know that my sister came home from the film saying "I’m in a dark place, Chlo."
How does one sum up a season in a blog? Particularly one like ours? At first glance, it seems like it would be a perfect set up for a nice "Highs and Lows" feature where the highs are very high and the lows very low. After all we now all know what it’s like to win at the very last second and lose in the last few minutes. We know how it feels to be the underdogs pulling the upset and how it feels to be the upset ones. But, as I looked at my team’s specific circumstances I realized we were in a unique place where it wasn’t a matter of highs and lows, but rather different sides of the same coin. I recognize that such imagery isn’t immediately clear, but just bear with me here. What I mean is, each situation that presented an obvious high also presented a less obvious low and each situation that presented an obvious low also presented a less obvious high. Don’t believe me? Allow me to demonstrate:
Costa Rica - I think I can speak for all participants in the Costa Rica trip in saying that it was one of our favorite parts of this season. We bonded, grew, and learned in ways that you simply can’t on a soccer field or even in Cedarville. We also got to serve a different people group through the medium of soccer, which is a special opportunity that not everyone is afforded. So, in that sense, Costa Rica was definitely a high for the season. Buuuut, when we finally got back from Costa Rica after the most….eventful….return trip one could imagine, we all learned that we had what seemed like a combination of jet lag, bronchitis, whooping cough, swine flu, tuberculosis, and scarlet fever. This made for a rough, frustrating, behind-the-8-ball beginning of our season. So, in that sense, you could look at Costa Rica as a low. But, I think when we all look back, we don’t separate the two into highs and lows, but combine them into one really good experience in which we learned a lot. Through both the highs and the lows, we learned what was really important about life and where soccer fits into all that. For one thing, we had a lot of fun using soccer to teach others about Christ, and realizing that it’s a sport that’s only as good as the testimony of its players. But, also, it’s hard to be mad about a bad cold and a hard early season when you’ve helped the poorest of poor in a third world country; it just does something for perspective. Both sides of the Costa Rica coin worked for our good.
Injuries - Sometimes I look at our injury situation as a bad Laffy Taffy Joke that makes no sense. "What do you call a 25 girl team that sustains 12 major injuries including a broken leg? - The 2014 Lady Yellow Jackets! Hahhahah..haha...ha..ha." Seriously. Injuries and long recoveries were the name of the game this year. Seasons were replaced with surgeries, and disappointment abounded. In that sense, you could call the injuries we experienced this season a definite low. And they were. But, believe it or not, there were some high points from it as well. For example, this season, Coach Mac and Bri really emphasized the importance of understanding and accepting roles on the team. Just like in the body of Christ, everyone has a specific function on the team, and the better we understand that, the better we will be. This season, I saw that in spades and part of that is due to the injuries. Players who were used to the playing-role suddenly found themselves on the bench performing the supporting-role. And, in turn, the players who have done so well to support did equally well getting to play. This season asked a lot of a lot of people, and everyone stepped up. It has been great to watch my teammates accept and excel in whatever roles this season has brought. It’s a testimony they couldn’t have had without the injuries.
Uncertainty, Party of 25 - Because of all those injuries and the early sickness/Costa Rica debacle, we’ve had a lot of uncertainty throughout the season. We didn’t know when people would recover from their injuries. We didn’t know how our post-season would end. Sometimes we didn’t even know if we’d have enough people for the post-season (slight, but necessary, exaggeration). But, we also had a lot of certain victories. We ended up with a winning season. We had a lot of great victories, including one of the last second of overtime variety. And, we played hard, well, and honorably despite all of our uncertainties. During the 2013 season we got the opportunity to show how a team honors God when things go their way, this year we had the more difficult task of having the same goal but considerably more adverse circumstances. And, I’m proud to say, we did it very well. So now, as I told my team over the weekend, we have the unique opportunity to walk away from a season full of disappointment, but not regret. And that is definitely something to be valued.
There you have it. I guess what I’m trying to say is that this season afforded us the opportunity to learn this: some things in life, especially sports, aren’t really made up of hills and valleys where you enjoy the former and get through the latter. They are more like a bunch of coins with a good side and a bad side. Sometimes, the good side is really apparent and it’s easy to focus on; other times you think you’ve found the world’s only exclusively bad-sided coin. The important thing is that it’s all the same coin, you just have to decide which one claims your focus. This season, I’m proud to say, my team did that, even when some of the coins seemed all bad.
At this point I feel like there’s a 50% chance that this blog had its intended effect and a 50% chance that it proves that old-drugs die hard. So, if you get nothing form it, get this: 1) I’m really proud of/love my team. 2) if Melissa, Sarah, Kristie, Christine, or Elise read this (or their parents), I’d like to extend a special shout out to the seniors. They were all leaders this season and handled the emotions of ending something they’ve devoted much of their lives to with grace and composure. I’ll really miss you guys! 3) I really loved writing this blog and appreciate how supportive the readers have been.
Until….never?...that sounds dramatic but whatever, you get the idea.
Nov. 18, 2014
Before beginning this week’s blog, I just wanted to take this time and ask you all to say a prayer for Chloe, as she underwent ACL repair surgery Friday morning. She is doing well, and will be back to blogging soon! Until then, I (Olivia Moore) will be filling in once again, to bring you all the exciting stories of the Cedarville Women’s Soccer Team.
The Ice Age has begun here in Cedarville, Ohio. This past week was bitter cold; with several of us losing fingers and/or toes due to frostbite. Luckily, no legs or feet were lost, so the soccer continued! In attempts to stay warm, Jacoby Zeigler dubbed Thursday as, HAT DAY! Naturally, everyone who was cool enough broke out their most fashionable hats and made their way out to the field through the snow and the wind. With our NCCAA play-in game not being until the following Tuesday (and now Wednesday), our week consisted of practice, practice, and more practice. The team worked very hard, despite the conditions, and we are excited to face off with Oakland City! If (and when) we win this game, we will be playing at Grace College sometime in the near future. Depending on the outcome of that game, your Cedarville University Women’s Soccer team could be going to sunny FLORIDA to compete in the NCCAA National Tournament! Not only would this be an awesome experience for us as a team, but just think about the tanning opportunities……need I say more?
So while you are sitting in the warmth reading this blog, think of us girls out there freezing our little bodies off. No matter the time of day, we will be out there. There is no off-season. Soccer never stops. Soccer is life. Eat, sleep, soccer, repeat.
Nov. 11, 2014
"Write the next blog about how we’ve all become super unproductive…unless…that’s just…me."
"Well, I’ve watched two full seasons of Gossip Girl, sooooo there’s that."
"Guys…I napped today."
To those of you who make up the parental readership of this blog, I’m not going to share the names behind these gems of quotes. However, I will say that they are all true and all reveal that we have begun the transition to the next phase of our soccer season: the post-season lull.
Post/sea/son Lull, noun.
/'pos(t),sez(e)n lal/
North American: From the combination of the words Post and Season….and lull….
1. The twilight of the season which affords student-athletes more time outside of practice, games and travels.
Ex. The Lady Jackets have begun the post-season lull.
2. Something often wasted
Ex. What have the Lady Jackets done during their post-season lull? Anyone?...Bueller….Bueller.
3. Not to be confused with post-season high.
Ex. Ah, yes, the Lady Jackets did begin their post-season lull by burning their "Thanks for participating" G-MAC Tournament T-shirts that don’t say "Champions" like those every other fall sport and its mother.
Now that you have a formal definition, I’ll give you a more practical understanding of the post-season lull phenomenon. It is a condition that strikes completely and quickly; no one is safe. Granted, everyone has a slightly different experience. In fact, this year’s lull is nontraditional in that we aren’t technically finished yet; our NCCAA hopes are still high! However, after a week of no games and with no way of really knowing when our next one is (Seriously, we’ve got some serious American-Revolution-Minute-Men business going on), things are getting pretty lull-ish. Most of the symptoms shown have been the same universal ones we see every year. So, although it is a bit premature, allow me to give you the typical timeline of the post-season lull.
Darkness and Desolation: Generally speaking, it’s Debbie Downers, Party of 25 directly after the finish of the season. Why? Because, unless you’re literally National Champions (which you aren’t) and you’ve won your final game (which you didn’t) and have some serious hardware (which you don’t), you’ve just lost your last game. It can be difficult to accept for some people. Previous recorded reactions have been taking several bags of balls and shooting them to tarnation and beyond (Carly and Jacoby, circa 2013); wallowing in a vat of self-pity, irritability, and irrational anger (Bri and Kait, circa 2012); and eating away the pain while denying that you’re eating away the pain (Everybody, circa every year). Another subtle dynamic that really adds to the general splendor of the situation is the tense silence that follows a person who tested out a mood-lightener on the completely wrong person. That sound of silence says, "Excellent, I immediately regret that decision as well as my existence in general. Yes, I will follow the instructions your look is giving me and kindly throw myself off the nearest precipice before your dagger eyes do the job themselves." It’s pretty bleak. But, so it goes when you tell athletes, "I’m sorry you poor competitive souls, but I’m going to have to ask you to accept a loss right now."
Glimmer of Hope: Eventually, slowly but surely, everybody rouses themselves from their depressed, Emily-Dickinson-is-a-social-butterfly-compared-to-me state, and rejoins the living, laughing humanity. As a general rule, this happens after the first few days of no, or as in our case, reduced practices. At first, people simply add these hours to their depressing activities. "Okay, one hour for wallowing, followed by ranting, followed by ‘scrape-emotionally-bedraggled-self-off-the-floor’ at 6:30." However, after a while, you start to realize, "My stars, I’ve just gained three more hours to my days and who knows how many more to my weekend." You feel slightly guilty, but you can’t help but calculate how much more sleep you will be getting in the coming weeks. It’s beautiful. You’d love to have sleep, time, and soccer, but at least you don’t have to give up all three! Things are starting to look up.
Blinded by the Light: This, is unquestionably, the best, and yet most tragic part of the post-season lull. You’ve done some calculations, double-checked your math, and your conclusions come out to be: "The world is my oyster." The extra hours you’ve been afforded are each tiny little New Year’s resolutions that are definitely going to change your life. Somehow, someway, the newly freed 3-6 pm spot translates into: "I’m going to get nine hours of sleep, finish all my tests ahead of time, do some Christmas shopping, learn a language, do Zumba, regret Zumba, try Zumba again, go to counseling for the inferiority complex that Zumba gave me, curling my hair and look cute for the rest of the semester, figure out world hunger, annnnnd most definitely of all, I will.not.get.out.of.shape." It’s an impressive list and, at first, you do it! You do the tests, you Zumba your life away, you go to…the…figure out world hunger….meetings. You feel like you have arrived. All that was missing in your previously unimpressive life, was the 3-6 pm time slot. One day, maybe you’ll even teach the Zumba class…or at least the counseling class! Anyway, all this to say, at first it goes well…and then….
Burnt by Said Light: It’s been one week out of season and you’ve become the most lethargic, unmotivated, sloth of a human that’s ever graced campus. (Wooahh I’ve outdone myself there on the exaggeration front). But seriously, you don’t understand. The one hour on a rickety athletic bus in the foothills of West Virginia that you used to have to do homework has now become four hours in the comfort of your own room. And yet, it still doesn’t get done. If you’ve got eight hours to yourself, you will find them and you will kill them. Stay in shape? You’re going to be wearing a shape-defying puffy coat for the next three months; People think you’re a marshmallow anyway! Look cute? You can’t even get out of bed. Okay, alright, you are getting your nine hours of sleep….but you’re fairly certain they aren’t supposed to be between chapel and dinner…right? The worst part is, you really thought it would be different this year. Granted, nothing about your approach or chosen activities has changed. And yes, maybe the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. But, you literally went to the gym twice…in a row! Why didn’t it work? You don’t know. All you know is that now you’re done with your favorite sport and all you have to show for its absence are some Zumba moves that will effectively keep you from ever marrying anyone.
The really funny thing about the post-season lull is that you can see it coming a mile away. And yet, you jump blindly into it and ride that vicious cycle like you’ve never seen it before. It’s how I imagine it feels to eat ice cream and the rest of someone else’s milk shake after merely filming the people that actually burned calories. (Note subtle emphasis on "imagine" to signify that this does not reflect a personal experience but merely my well-trained ability to empathize with the experiences of others). That being said, the good thing about the post-season lull is that the roller coaster of emotions is definitely a short ride. Eventually, everything settles back into place, off-season commitments get into full swing, and homework gets done.
Buuuut, that isn’t to say that some permanent damage isn’t done. Some scars, particularly those of the Zumba variety, will never heal.
Until next time!
Nov. 4, 2014
Well, this week makes for an interesting dynamic in that I can't tell if it's time for the sentimental blog yet. I can't be sure, because I'm running on very little sleep, but I think I just had a conversation with myself. And, I think it went like this:
"So, is it 'Sentimental Blog' time? Or, is it too soon?"
"It's never too soon to be sentimental."
"False, it can very much be too soon to be sentimental."
"So...it is...too soon?"
"Yes, it's too soon."
So, if I'm following myself correctly, I believe I decided that it was too soon and that this blog shall be like all the others.
What caused this momentary existential crisis? Well, unfortunately, it's our recent heartbreaking, rather shocking, G-MAC-tournament-run-ending loss against the very same Kentucky Wesleyan team that we beat 2-0 the previous Saturday. Just like that, all conference play and tournament chances came to an abrupt halt. It was a hard loss to swallow, so we made sure we got Chick-fil-A milkshakes to chase it down. All that to say, although we have at least one more guaranteed NCCAA game next week, a large part of our season has come to a close. So, it almost feels like it's not too soon.....No, no it is. Normal blog time.
As I said, our defeat on Saturday was the first match in our G-MAC tourney campaign. Thus, all the days preceding that were devoted to practice. As the details of our loss is a particularly sad road that I have no interest in exploring further, and since its rare that we have so few games in one week, I've chosen those practices as the subject of this blog. Actually, it's not really those practices, but all practices. Yes, that's right, it's time for another "day-in-the-life" feature.
A Practice in the Life of a Lady Jacket
3:00-4:00 (Prep) - This will always and forever be the least productive part of your day. It's two hours before practice time, but really about an hour before you need to start getting your life together. But, for some reason, this hour is secretly not an hour. In all the other hours in a day, you can eat a whole meal, take a class, study, get some homework done, work-out. But, 3:00-4:00 is the biggest joke since knock-knock's became a thing. In the 3-4 hour, getting out your pencil or opening your computer takes about 20 minutes. In the 3-4 hour, checking your email takes you right up to 30. In the 3-4 hour, time-elves take away another 10 minutes and you've only got 20 minutes left. And, everybody knows it's better to do no homework than 20 minutes of homework. So, then you have to divide the time evenly between BuzzFeed and Pinterest which is really hard because neither of them are that interesting today, but you have to because...you have to, and more importantly, 5 minutes isn't enough time for a nap. Then, somehow, even though you were bored the whole time, you are suddenly running late. As you rush around trying to remember how much of your practice stuff is in the locker room, you realize that you don't really know what you've just done, but it definitely wasn't really an hour.
4:00-4:45 (Locker Room/Training Room) - There's no need to really explain this bit except that the sheer amount of Lady Jackets in the training room at this point in time is ridiculous. So, let's just have a round of applause for our excellent training staff led by the Becca "Suffering as Long as her Legs" Stokes. Thanks!
4:45-5:05 (Arrival) - This time block needs to be broken up into even smaller sections, to reflect the thoughts and behavior exclusive to each scenario:
4:45 - "Dang it, over-shot." - Some variation of that goes through your head as you walk up to the practice field way too early. You had your suspicions when you couldn't see or hear any stirrings of human life on your way up, but now it's been confirmed. It's just you and coach. You knew it was too early, you knew you had more time, but you just got so nervous. "Whatever," you tell yourself, "better safe than sorry." Buuuut, then, for some reason, it only takes you five minutes instead of the usual ten to put your stuff on and you're suddenly mourning these 10 minutes of your life you'll never get back.
4:50 - "Nailed it." - You hit the sweet spot. The 4:45ers silently envy you as you just finish lacing up your cleats in time for Gray Skulls?....Grey Scholls?...GraceGoals?...GreySeaScrolls?...GraneraBreadRolls? Nobody-knows-what-the-heck-it's-called-why-can't-it-just-be-"the-juggling-game"...Skulls? Anyway, this small victory doesn't really make your day, but you don't really see why it can't be a highlight.
4:55 - "I'm fine. I'm fine. Why are you making me feel like I'm not fine?" - Technically, if you roll into practice at 4:55, you really are fine. It only takes 5 minutes to get your stuff on. And, that's what you tell yourself as you confidently approach the field. But then, you see everyone else practicing corner kicks and what not with their perfectly tied cleats and sleek baby blue socks, and you're suddenly really self-conscious of your own flip-flopped feet. Then, you start to feel judged. Then, you feel like you're the only one not ready, even though you can clearly see people still putting their stuff on. Then, subconsciously, you start to jog. But, then, also subconsciously, you become irrationally angry with them for making you not feel fine even though you are definitely fine. So, in protest, you start to slow down to a normal walk. But, then you really start to worry that you aren't fine, and the saunter becomes a much less dignified fast walk. In the end, you basically make it to the field panting after the most frantic walk of your life. "Guys, it's 4:57, Eager Beavers, party of 23. Shut up, I'm not bitter."
5:05-5:10 - "Late. Late. Late. I'm late. Super Late." - For some reason repeating this to yourself makes it better. Interestingly, even though late is late, there is a strong distinction between the approach of someone who is mistakingly late, and someone who has already cleared it with Bri. If you're the former, you run a record pace up the gravel walk in such a way that says, "No, I didn't just start running when I knew you could see me, I've been running since I left class." Each crunchy foot-fall falls perfectly in rhythm with your inner chant of "Late. Late. Late. Late." Soon, you add on, "Oh, no...they're just starting to pray. I hope coach doesn't see me then he's goi-oh man. He saw me. Oh, you're waving me to you? Oh right, because I can run faster than I am now. Oh, yes thank you so much for all staring at me. I suppose you couldn't just go on with out me. Gah, why did I sleep?" Conversely, if you've responsibly informed Bri, then you walk up with the saunter that says "Oh, why yes, I am late, but you see I've already cleared it with Bri so, I believe the phrase is, 'Can't Tell me Nothing.'" Of course, as you get closer to coach you momentarily panic and all your self-confident calm descends into a frantic, "Hey Coach, sorry I'm late, I told Bri, remember? I had a meeting with my adviser, it was super important, yeah I told Bri, but don't worry I'm here now, did Bri tell you I told her?"
5:05-5:10 (Death...orrr...Warm-Up) - Here's my theory. All the time that's supposed to make up the 3-4 pm non-hour is transferred to what's supposed to be the 5:05-5:10 5 minutes. You believe me too. There's no way you asked all of the following questions in just 5 minutes. In order:
Has this dynamic warm-up business been proven? What is this even stretching? Is the point of this to pull all the muscles I didn't pull in the game last night? Woah...why is Katie doing these so fast?....I need to do this next to someone else. Why are all 476 baseball players (whose practice is right across from ours) moving something that takes 1 person? What even is baseball? I bet they don't have to do dynamic warm-up. What did Dani say? Who is what's-her- face dating? Wait...how do I know the difference between 50 and 75%? Wait...why do these all feel like sprints? Woah, I think that was more than 100%. Wait...I have to practice now?
Yup, 5:05-5:10 is the hour that 3-4 has always wanted to be.
5:10-6:55 (Practice) - For a description of the general practice dynamic see the Sept. 22 blog.
6:55-7:00 (Panic) - At this point in time, somehow you've found out that it's 6:55. Looking around, you suddenly feel like this scrimmage has no end in sight. So, naturally, you begin to question everything you know and panic that coach is going to keep you there forever. You and your teammates try to subtly drop hints about the time, which is difficult because you're not supposed to know what time it is. You are really seriously worried until, just like every day, coach does indeed call practice at the appropriate time. Granted, you immediately wish he didn't because then you have the...
7:00-7:05 (Cool-Down) - Again, see the Sept. 22 blog. The only thing I have to add is, if there was any left over 3-4 time, it went to this cool down.
7:05-7:15 (Depart) - Finally, you participate in the post-game cheer, slowly take your stuff off, strain your ears for any sign of anyone offering a ride to the locker room. Practice is done...until tomorrow.
Until Next Time!
Oct. 28, 2014
Before I begin, I must ask you to give a round of applause for Olivia Moore and her excellent contributions as my guest blogger last week. Yes, I am currently enjoying the image of several people sitting by themselves and clapping for seemingly no reason. And, yes, she does deserve it. Thanks, Liv for being funny and making me sound awesome in my absence.
Now, I come to you at the end of yet another very eventful week for the Lady Jackets. We travelled all across this great nation for our annual contests against Trevecca Nazarene and Kentucky Wesleyan, rounded out our regular season games, and, perhaps most importantly, enjoyed some great food in the process. Sadly, I cannot bring exclusively good tidings. Please pray for Sara Rogers as she heals from a broken collar bone she suffered during our Trevecca match. Also, please keep Kylie in your prayers as she deals with the recent news that what she thought was a meniscus tear is actually a much more serious ACL tear. These are sad occurrences for two reasons. One: They are both very painful and very costly. Two: they do nothing to disprove my theory that someone, somewhere, owns a set of "Cedarville Women's Soccer Voodoo Dolls." Here's hoping they are limited editions! But, seriously, we appreciate all your prayers and thoughts for them and the right other injured people on our team.
Now for some lighter fare. After being on a women's soccer team for three years now, I've noticed that we have a strong tendency to develop extensive inside jokes. It must have something to do with the fact that we spend somewhere between 3 and 24 hours together on any given day. Anyway, the only trouble with inside jokes is that they, by definition, are rather exclusive. Seriously, if you've ever been in a room with us, you'll know that one person can say some seemingly meaningless sentence and suddenly you're the only one not laughing. So, in the spirit of goodwill and the bond of humanity, I've decided to let all of you in on some of our inside jokes. The following random quotes and related stories are all from this past week. They are a testament to the good times we have and to the seriously ridiculous amount of time we spend together.
1. "CHRISTINE!"
Disclaimer: I still have no idea why the following story happened or why it's so funny, I will do my best to convince you of the validity of both.
One day last week, I believe it was a Tuesday, practice started out normally. The few able-bodied girls left on our bedraggled team started their warm-up, coach busily set up cones with unparalleled precision, and Bri and I divided our time between talking about show-tunes and butchering them. Suddenly, and without explanation, Christine picked up a bag of 10 balls and walked towards the goal. Wanting to know why Christine was going AWOL, Bri asked, "Hey, Christine, where are you going?" Unfortunately for Bri, Christine had on ear phones and unwittingly ignored her. So, Bri called again, in a louder tone, "Christine!" Christine, unfazed, kept walking. Then, for some reason I felt called to join in Bri's pleas for her attention. So, we both screamed "Christine! Christine!" with increasing dramatic flair and volume. Nothing. Then, because Tom-foolery likes company, the entire team joined in our frantic shouts until we were all screaming at the top of our lungs, "CHRISTINE!" Again, Christine barely even changed her stride. After that, everything descended into total madness: balls were kicked, hand motions got ridiculous, cannons were fired, flare-guns were shot, flags were raised, and we all screamed until every cornfield in this great state reverberated with "CHRIIIIIIIIISTINE!!!" Alright...those last few descriptions might be a little heavy-handed. Anyway, all this to say, when Christine finally turned around and said, "What?" as calmly as you please, we all crumbled into laughter.
2. "That dead animal, man."
There are many things my teammates and I have grown accustomed to during our time here at Cedarville. For example, we barely even bat an eyelash at the 75 mile per hour winds that threaten to pin us against the fence surrounding our practice field. Similarly, we've grown to understand that it simply must rain only for the hours we've scheduled for practice and not for the rest of the day. However, this week our adaptability met its match in the terrible stench that invaded our practice space. Seriously, imagine a combination of the smell of 47 day old cheese, 37 men's locker rooms, the most unsavory parts of a barn, and every seedy porta-potty you've ever left fearing that you've contracted Hepatitis A-G. Then, maybe, you might comprehend a fraction of the odor that attacked our poor noses. (Again, I err on the heavy-handed side). Try as we might, we simply could not let this one go. Somewhere along the lines, and without anything close to a sufficient amount of evidence, we all concluded that this smell belonged to a dead animal. What kind, color, and breed of animal we did not know, but, it was definitely dead. Eventually, the smell was so bad that it became completely acceptable to bring it up in any given situation:
Stretching: "Guys, is it getting worse? I think it's getting worse."
Receiving a pass: "Seriously, Where is this animal?"
Making a run: "Yeah, Ball! Yeah---OH MY GOSH IT'S SO BAD OVER HERE! I THINK IT'S OVER HERE!"
Talking strategy: "So yeah...soccer....anyway...I'm pretty sure it's a skunk."
You may call us dramatic, but all I'm going to say is that someone has put an animal trap by our practice fields, so we are not alone in our conclusions. Granted, it hasn't worked....buuuut, that's probably because it's already dead. We rest our case.
3. "Heeeey, guys..."
There are few things in life that my team takes more seriously than Panera Bread. It is, essentially, the Holy Grail of post or pre-game restaurants. We don't often expect to eat there, and even enjoy that we only get it on special occasions. But, if we are promised it, woe to the man that breaks that promise. Incidentally, this week, Bri was that....man. (Just go with it). On Thursday, after Bri told us that we were getting Panera, everything proceeded as normal. We did the customary song and dance number, made the normal realizations that the sun had gotten just a little bit brighter, and began to calculate how many bagels we could get in addition to a bread bowl. All was right in the land. Granted, we all showed a little nervousness when Melissa woke up from a nap saying, "I had a terrible dream where Bri promised us Panera Bread and then Coach drove right into Subway!" But, we all nervously laughed it off and returned to our calculations ("Yeah...I'm definitely getting three bagels.") Then, tragedy struck when Bri got up, tapped the bus's microphone, and began her terrible announcement with: "Heeeeey, guys..." We all groaned as her words explained that traffic had set us back an hour and transformed our beautiful hypothetical bagels into sadly very real Subway sandwiches. That situation had three irreversible effects. One: It created severe trust issues within our relationship with Bri. Two: It made it very difficult to prove that Melissa is not a prophet (Propheta? Prophetess?). Three: It made for one great inside joke.
Side note: Lest Bri's good name be forever tainted, please know that she did make good on her Panera Bread promise within a few short days.
So, there you have it, now, whenever one of us refers to any of the above situations, you'll be more than able to laugh with us. Whether or not you decide to use that ability, is up to you!
Until next time!
Oct. 23, 2014
It is with my deepest regret and a heavy heart that I am here to inform you that Chloe West will not be writing the women's soccer blog for this week. While Chloe is off gallivanting in Africa, reclaiming her rightful throne as African princess; it is I, Olivia Moore, who will be filling in. I know what you all are thinking. (that is, if you are still reading.) "Chloe's writing is perfection." "There is no way that this peasant could compose literature even comparable to that of Chloe West's." With these statements I will have to agree, but for the sake of the Cedarville Women's Soccer Team, I will try my best to inform you of what happened this past week in sunny Cedarville, Ohio.
"Sunny" is actually the exact opposite of what the weather has been like this past week. I've actually been told that Cedarville is currently in the running to become the "Rainiest Place in America." I have that on good sources too - Google it. This to say, that before our game against Salem International even started on Tuesday, our field was looking a little soggy. To make conditions worse, Salem only had eight players (including the goalie) who were able to play. So, we marched out onto that muddy field to face off 11 vs. 8. After being up 8-0 at halftime (and after experiencing the most beautiful double rainbow to ever exist), Coach Mac and the refs talked it over and decided that the field conditions were progressively getting worse, and that we were only going to play the 70 minutes that are required to have a game be considered regulation. The game ended with the score being 12-0, and in case you were wondering, it was still raining.
Fall break started on Thursday, leaving only several of the fall sports teams lingering around. So, our very own Carly Gregory had us all over to her lovely home for our CAMPOUT 2K14! Luckily, the rain let up for about 12 hours. Which was long enough for us to set up a tent, build a fire, roast marshmallows, and giggle the night away. After a few rousing games of the "SP" and "Adverb" game, we all hunkered down inside of the tent in attempts to stay warm and maybe get one or two hours of sleep. Donuts followed in the morning, with us all secretly (or not so secretly) dreading the practice that we would have to participate in that Friday afternoon.
Our second game last week came on Saturday, against the Arrows of Ursuline. Much to our surprise (sarcasm), it was raining for that game as well. Unfortunately, we were not blessed with a rainbow this time, or the win either, with Ursuline scoring in the 88th minute. However, I will give a little shout out to Hanna Harris for having an awesome game in goal. Honestly, she probably had close to 500 saves; Hope Solo better watch out.
All in all, it has been another great week here for the Cedarville Women's Soccer Team. Now, for those of you who have stuck with me throughout this blog, I thank you. I've been told that Chloe is in the process of having WiFi installed in her castle in Africa, so I am guessing that she will be back and blogging soon.
Until then, it's been fun folks!
Oct. 14, 2014
I approach this blog asking myself, "When exactly were we in Ohio last week?" It's a valid question when you consider that it was a week of road trips to West Virginia for the Lady Jackets. We devoted part of Tuesday and all of Wednesday to visiting Davis & Elkins and spent Saturday at Alderson Broaddus. Both games were great, both for our record and, slightly more importantly, for this blog. For the former, we ended this week with a hard-fought tie and a big win. For the latter, we had very different traveling experiences for the two trips. D&E was an athletic bus/van combo and AB involved a Buckeye Charter bus.
What does this mean? This means that I can now put the finishing touches on the revolutionary sports theory I've been formulating since freshman year. That is, there is a direct correlation between the vehicular transportation involved with an away game and the performance of the athletic team at that game due to the psychological and emotional connotations associated with the vehicle. In simpler, tweetable words: Athletic Bus/van=Sad=Lose. Charter Bus=Happy=Win. Allow me to demonstrate with a helpful play-by-play featuring specific examples from our last two games.
Loading Up
Athletic Bus: We left for Elkins, WV on Tuesday evening. Do you know how it feels to haul your entire life in a duffel bag and still feel like your forgetting something and that something is the project that's worth 20% of your grade? It's not great. Do you know what it's like to accept the fact that you will be driving four hours and arriving at a hotel room in WV where you will be doing homework for four more hours and saying, "Really...this was the end goal?" It's really not great. Do you know what it's like to arrive at the Callan Athletic Center and swallow the fact that the charter bus you see is not for you, but for the boys team, and that small-am-I-an-airport-shuttle-or-an-athletic-bus, behind the charter bus is all you? It's really, really, ridiculously not great. Suddenly, these disconnected feelings of "not great" come together to mean, "I'm being punished." Then, you ask yourself why. Then, you begin to wonder if it's your performance; surely, they would only do this to a team that is disappointing them. Nothing else could incite such tragedy. Thus, as you vainly search for meaning in the straight-from-everything-bad-about-the-90's pattern on the upholstery of your seat, you start out the trip with a feeling of defeat. Such was the beginning of our D&E trip.
Charter Bus: As we approached the charter bus this past Saturday for our AB trip, we all had definite springs in our steps. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and everyone was happy. In fact, had we waited just a few more moments, we would've burst into a spontaneous, surprisingly well-choreographed, song and dance number led by Bri. And you want to know why? Because, we had the charter bus that day. No, it wasn't because it was Saturday and therefore much less stressful than a Wednesday. No, I'm not just basing this feeling on the fact that it was my birthday and therefore everyone was required to be happy and enthusiastic when they saw me. No, no, no. It's because the charter bus=comfort. The charter bus=more room. The charter bus=WiFi. The charter bus=life. In fact, if anything, it's because we had the charter bus that my birthday happened to fall on that day (don't think about it, just accept it.) Likewise, we didn't have the charter bus because the weather was nice, the weather was nice because we had the charter bus. If you still don't believe me, I ask you this: why would former player Kelly (Wise) Bender just happen to be in town and happen to bless us all with pancake-sized cookies? She knew what this was. Thus, to return to my theory, the feelings of hope for humanity and general goodwill combine to create a general atmosphere of "Life is good. We are good." We started the AB trip on a very high note.
The Trip
Athletic Bus: At some point during an athletic bus ride, you realize that you've felt every bump, crack, and pebble that's ever graced this great nation's ground. Interestingly this point often comes at the same time when you finally realize "Wait a second...I'm never going to get comfortable...these are airplane seats!" Granted, this inability to sleep increases your productivity level by approximately 67% and the ramrod straight position does great things for your posture. However, it is a little difficult deciding whether or not the goal is to survive the trip, or win the game. This rang particularly true during a D&E trip when the wheel well threatened to fall off any second. In the end, all these dynamics lead to a general disbelief in your own identity as an athlete. Not good.
Charter Bus: I'm not going to say that the charter bus is perfect, but I will say that the only con is that the perfect sleeping conditions are not conducive to homework. But, even then, if you do find the strength to overcome the anesthesia flowing through the air vents, there's WiFi for all your homework needs. Each person has two full seats to use at their own discretion. And, most importantly, there is a functioning toilet right in the back. Comfort has a name and it's Buckeye Charter. More than all that, you simply feel like an athlete when you roll into the school in a massive bus. It just sets you up for success.
The Game
Athletic Bus: After such a ride as I just described, you end up arriving at the game with a decidedly less than optimistic attitude about your prospects. In turn, you start to irrationally connect every less than positive occurrence to the athletic bus. Of course we don't have time to get lunch before the game - yay, athletic bus. Of course we arrived at D&E late, we came in on an athletic bus. Of course this means we now have less time to remember what the words "run" and "kick" mean personally to your asleep and cramped legs - that's what we get for riding on an athletic bus. Of course my hair band just broke - thanks, athletic bus. Of course we dominate possession and shots but still end up with a scoreless tie - this one's for you, athletic bus. For me personally, Of course the set up at this particular field requires me to be banished to a high tower that's basically at the outskirts of the city - cool, athletic bus. Of course I walk all the way to and up that tower only to realize that I will be without a sweatshirt in freezing conditions for two hours - #athleticbus. Do any of these connections make sense? No. Do they seem necessary at the time? Yes.
Charter Bus: After a charming trip on the charter bus, we arrive at the game with the feeling that the world is our oyster. Naturally, the "Of Course's" sound a little different. Of course, we get to play on AB's brand new turf field - thanks-a-million, charter bus!. Of course, we play very well and work very hard - that's a charter bus for you! Of course, Sara Rogers scores one of THE goals of the season from at least 7000 yards out - Let's get a charter bus every game! Of course, Elise follows up with a stunner of her own - Let's hear it for charter buses! Of course, we get a huge 2-0 conference win - Good things come to those who charter. Of course, we are personally commended for our sportsmanship and Christ-like attitude by a fellow Christian from the other team - We'd like to thank our charter bus. Of course we get Chick-fil-A after the game - Charter Chicken time. These connections are no less irrational, but they are decidedly more positive.
Clearly, I have no future as a sports psychologist. You'd be hard-pressed to find anything that holds real weight in what I just wrote. That's because this is all in jest. We had TWO really great trips with really great memories, regardless of the busses we took. I think I can speak for all of us in saying that we are truly thankful for all that our coaches and institution provide for us as a team. We've definitely been blessed with more opportunities and resources than we need. So, if you take any theory away from this blog, let it be this: When it comes to sports, it's not about how a team gets there, because any way is a provision of the Lord. Anything less is a failure in perspective...so I realized...on the charter bus. (juuuuust kidding!)
Until next time!
Oct. 7, 2014
Before I get into my usual nonsense, I'd like to ask that you please be in prayer for our beloved Susanna "Puth" Matthew. If you don't know, she was in an unfortunate collision with the goalie in our Cambellsville match. We won the war (1-0), but poor Puth lost that battle and broke her leg in such a way that required surgery on that Sunday. So, please keep praying! And, I know that she's quite the Duke fan, so if you feel so called, court-side seats for March Madness might be juuuuust the ticket. (I got you, Puth!). Also, please pray for the long list of other injured Lady Jackets. To remember, I suggest watching one of those "Look at these poor abused dogs" commercials and replacing all of their faces....with ours. Go ahead, substitute Kylie Faxon for that pitiful golden retriever and let that Sara McGlaughlin "In the Arms of the Angel" song make you cry.Alright, clearly I'm regressing back to that nonsense I talked about earlier. Anyway, please pray for Puth! (Go ahead and say that out loud, it's as rewarding as it looks).
Aside from that unfortunate event, this week was prime. We've started our very own two-game winning streak thanks to a hard fought victory over Campbellsville and a....less than hard fought victory over Ohio Valley. The latter is the politically correct way of saying we thrashed Ohio Valley 9-0. Making up two of those nine goals, Carla and Danielle scored their first-ever collegiate goals! Unfortunately for Grace, the general consensus was "I'm unimpressed" in regards to her four-goal performance seeing as how five goals from a quintuplet would've been perfect. Buuut you can't have it all. Saturday's slightly more thrilling match against Cambellsville featured a lone goal from Elise Hurley off of some great magic by Kristie Wolff. It was a good week for the Jackets.
On another note, this week also featured our very first cold weather game. For some reason, every year, we deceive ourselves into thinking that we can enjoy our beautiful puffy coats without ever actually needing them. This is never the case. At about the same time every year, we all suddenly realize that we're cold and have been for about two weeks. This week signaled the beginning of that time. Fortunately for the blog, the arctic tundra conditions were delayed until our Saturday game. Thus, I now have the perfect opportunity to give you a little compare and contrast look into what it's like to play soccer in cold weather as opposed to warm.
Locker Room
Not-Cold: When, like on the day of the Ohio Valley game, the weather outside is not frightful, then the locker room is the fire that's so delightful. It's a blasted sauna in there. Granted, even when it is cold, the locker room can get pretty stuffy. But, there's a special boiling-lava quality on a warmer day. However, this is a good thing, because it only makes us more excited to get out there to the game. There's a special ring in the air that says, "when we leave this place, not only will we be playing, but we'll be breathing again!" (until we start running, that is). So, although it's the warm conditions of the locker room and not the anticipation of the game that are responsible for the impatient tapping of feet, anxious glances, and enthusiastic Got-it-coach-can-we-be-done-now? nods, either way we look intense. Not only do we look intense, but we look good. When it's a not-cold day, you only have to wear our required uniform and no extra layers. This gives us a full extra five minutes to ask ourselves some of soccer's most burning questions. "Can I rock the power braid without looking abrasive?" "Katie, should I roll the shorts once *rolls* or twice? *rolls twice* Wait, you weren't looking, once? *rolls* or twice? *rolls twice*" "What woman exactly is 'Women's Cut' dressing? Not me that's who."
Cold: Five words: Please. Don't. Make. Us. Leave. On a cold game day, everyone stumbles into the locker room with the same "What-exactly-does-the-Lord-want-me-to-learn-during-this-trial?" face. As we put on our layers, everything, for some reason, becomes impossible to handle. "I...just....can't" is a constant refrain as we get half-way through putting on our skin-tight under-armor before stopping and realizing that we don't have the strength to struggle with it anymore. It seems like after each step of the process of getting ready, we stop to consider our fate. *Puts on left sock* *Pause* "I'm going to die today." *Insert left shin guard* *Pause* "I'm already losing feeling in my toes." *Puts on right sock* *Pause* "I hate everything." *Insert right shin guard* *Pause* "Play soccer, they said. It'll be fun they said." Thankfully, our general dread of the weather keeps us quiet as coach talks. In fact, even after he's finished, we remain quietly sitting, completely focused on his words. Orrrrr we're all silently crying and willing coach to let us stay in the warmth for five more minutes. Personally, I believe I take the greatest hit in the locker room because I lead our team chant, "Red-Hot." Two reasons why it's bad. 1: It is very difficult to talk about anything being "Red-Hot" when we're about to be "Dead-Cold." Number 2: When it's cold, I have to do Red-Hot in my puff y coat. When I have to do our chant in our puffy coat, all intimidation factor just becomes a vaguely adorable aww-look-at-that-Michelin-woman-trying-to-get-her-team-pumped-up. Not good.
Game
Not-Cold: When it's not cold outside, everything is just a generally good experience. If you're playing, you are reminded of how much you truly love playing soccer. If you aren't playing you are at least enjoying a good game with some of your good friends. The wind flutters the American flag, people are smiling, and, for the melanin-challenged among us, (aka everyone except Rachel, Suz, and I) there's a chance you might get a good tan! As it was a 7:00 game, the tanning bit was not present at the Ohio Valley game. Buut, everything else applies. We were sharp, happy, energized. In fact, I think the only way to adequately describe our approach to that game is through coach's newest phrase, "Katie, you played like a Water-Bug out there!" Do I have any idea what that means? Do I think it's a good thing? Yes. Long story short, not-cold games are good games.
Cold: Personally, I don't know if I've ever questioned my decision to play soccer more than when I'm trying to process the fact that it requires me to take off my sweat-pants, warm-up jacket, sweatshirt, and puffy coat in sub-zero (I never exaggerate) conditions. As it happens, I no longer have to make that sacrifice this season, but, against Campbellsville, I loved watching the private battles on my teammates faces. Depending on your role within the game, the struggle goes like this:
Starter
Player's face: "Coach keeps saying to keep up the intensity. I'm on the verge of hypothermia, is that not intense enough for you?"
Coach: "[insert name], get that ball out of the air"
Player's face: "Oh no..it's coming...it's so cold...it's gonna hit my skin and hurt so bad. Here it co--Mother of pearl, I've been shot."
Coach: "Yeah, Great work!"
Sub
Coach: "[insert name], warm-up and go in at 20."
Player: "Okay"
Player's Face: "Wait...you want me to...take this *points to sweatshirt* and this *points to sweat pants* off? What? No, no I don't care about playing. What's 20 minutes of playing time compared to a lifetime struggle with frostbite? *Silently crying* Why am I taking them off? Why am I here? Why is the Lord punishing me? Okay, no. Playing is a good thing. I'm ready to go. I love soccer. *Wind blows right through your entire body* I'm done."
Bench
Everybody's faces: "That's weird, the clock says 42 minutes left when I distinctly remember it saying 43 an hour ago. Can...I...Yes *zips on 4th puffy coat*. Whoops, can't put my arms down. Eh, small price to pay. Why am I so angry? I'm really, really angry. Can temperature cause mood swings? *Starts raining* Yes. It really is so much better when I dance. 41 minutes? Will someone fix that clock?"
So there you have it, an insider's look into the psyche of the athlete during inclement weather. Unfortunately, I only have room to discuss the locker room and game portions of this weather-themed blog. Perhaps one day I'll finish it up with insight into the Pre- and Post-game mentalities. Goodness knows I won't be wanting for material. It's October. This is only the beginning.
Until next time!
Sept. 30, 2014
I approach this blog from a slightly better place this week (See Blog 4). I mean, I'm still waiting for someone to give me convincing evidence that there isn't Insta-Injure: You Need it, We'll Break it! in our water bottles. Also, if that same person could also remove the dead animal that's currently surrounding our entire practice field in a stench that could raise all the other dead animals within a 300 mile radius from the grave, we, and our gag-reflexes, would appreciate it.
BUT, there have been some excellent moments. I'd say the front-runners are our beating Findlay on a last-second-of-double-overtime-shot from Kristie..and the fact that we had 10 bucks for dinner at Panera Bread. Yup, 10 G. Washingtons' to buy whatever our little crab-craving hearts desired ("Can you put the baguette....IN...the bread bowl? Yeah, that's what I want."). Alright, I know what you're thinking, but my priorities aren't off. Kristie's shot really was that good!
Other notable events include Chipotle after our Ursuline game annnd watching coach's return-trip movie choice of Amazing Grace, the incredibly educational, historical film giving a very detailed depiction account of William Wilberforce's role in the abolition of slavery. I will leave deciding whether those are both exciting post-game prospects for a team of 20ish year old girls up to my readers, but I will say one thing. Education doesn't lead to action, because I was appointed to bus-clean-up duty that night. If you don't immediately recognize the gross injustice/timing of that fact, please refer to my picture....in color. Yup.
Anyway, as you may know, recent events have forc--I mean...given me the opportunity...to reprise my role as Official Game-Filmer. Alright, I do look at it as a great opportunity to serve my team in whatever capacity I can. And, believe it or not, it has given me the perfect way to relay this week's games. Filming our Findlay and Ursuline games has given me some great insight. The process of filming a great game and filming a...less great game...are very different things. Allow me to demonstrate.
Focusing
Great Game: Like I said, Kristie Wolff scored a thrilling last second shot in our double over-time win at Findlay. The scene was everything you could ever want it to be: Grace flicks on a perfect through ball, Kristie dribbles full speed towards the goal with the ability to make the announcer's "3...2...1..." either really inspirational or really depressing. She shoots, she scores, Coach jumps way higher than anyone has ever seen, and we're storming the field. A moment like that, and all the other great ones from that game, gave me a great problem to have as a filmer. I don't know what to focus on. Should I attempt to capture the perfect dynamics of Elise's one touch, equalizing zinger from 18 yards out, or incorporate the wide-screen shot of all the Findlay girls' faces as they watch their lead disappear. Would it be better to get a rising panoramic of the perfectly synchronized back line or give a close-up of how Hannah Velloney manages to completely stuff a striker and still make it the most well-meaning thing you've ever seen. Do I end-scene with a sentimental shot of the entire team surrounding Kristie, or should I start with a shot of Grace who opted for a non-traditional, but equally excited private celebration and transition to a fading shot of the field. The possibilities are endless!
Bad Game: Well, I guess the problem is still not knowing what to focus on, but in a bad way. To give you a clue for this particular game, I'll use my friend Hannah Lyons's words: "At some point in the game, I realized that I didn't know if I cared about winning anymore, I just wanted everyone to make it off the field alive." Yup. Walking wounded, party of 25. That was us. You try filming that. These are the thoughts I distinctly remember. "Well, I'm supposed to show what happens up close...but something about this angle is making the fact that almost everyone on the team has the same limp even more pathetic." "Oh, oh Jacoby that tackle looked so painful. And now you're writhing in pain..Zoom out Zoom out. Abort, Abort." The worst was when Hanna Harris suffered a direct kick to the back. No one could blame her for staying on the ground for a while. Unfortunately for me, I'm not allowed to turn off the film So.... "Uhh probably shouldn't focus on her wallowing in pain...uhh..here's a nice close up of the score board...that's a pretty nice tree...hmm...I wonder how close I can zoom into the grass and maintain focus...C'mon, Hanna...." Needless to say, a 2-0 loss with even worse injuries makes for a lot of things that aren't ready for their close up.
Commentary/Technical Difficulties
Great Game: I take Bri's command that I should not be seen and not be heard on film very seriously, but I think the fact that I'm still a living human with emotions warrants me a few audible reactions here and there. During a great game, I like to think it adds to the final product. A gasp of shock followed by a sigh of relief made for a great backdrop for Hanna's 7,000 Is-this-Wicked-cuz-I'm-"Defying-Gravity"- saves from the Findlay game. Also, I can't be sure, but I'm pretty sure you can hear, or at least feel, the proud smile on my face as I watched my girls take it to the team that broke our hearts last year with an overtime shot of their own. If not, then you could definitely feel the jerk of the camera when I realized that my excitement almost made me over shoot the zoom button and miss the goal entirely. Anyway, all that to say, any minor glitches during a good game somehow enhance the experience. I mean, Bri and Coach haven't exactly told me that my little additions inspired them to tears of joy, but they don't have to. I can tell.
Bad Game: Well, if I happen to slip up a couple times in good games, I lose all control during bad ones. There is a direct relationship between the frustration level of a game, and the smoothness of the camera's movements. Basically, what are graceful transitions become violent, jerky jumps made by a hand clenched around the camera in anger. Unfortunately, nothing was more frustrating than what happened at Ursuline. We played well, we gave it our all, and yet, we just couldn't put it away. That, and the fact that the great minds behind the press box successfully situated the supporting beams in such a way that a good third of the field was blocked off, added to the frustration. So, by the end of the whole ordeal, watching the game might've been a slightly jarring experience. Bri and Coach haven't exactly told me that they suffered near seizure conditions from reviewing it. But, they don't have to. I can tell.
After-Game
Great Game: After you've filmed a great game, there's always a completely misplaced sense of pride in what you've done. Yeah, they may have been the ones who actually played the game and made the shots. So, I guess technically they had the important job. Buuut, then again, you can't help but descend from that press box with a smug smile that says "A film is only as good as its director, am I right?" And then, you get the oh so gratifying pleasure of responding to everyone's excited questions of: "Did you get the goal?" With a self-confident nod and "Psshh...they don't call me Chloe Spielberg for nothing." It's a great feeling.
Bad Game: It's a terrible feeling. Your team just endured 90 minutes of brutal, heart-breaking soccer and you're the chump that got it all on film. It's like how our mom's should feel when they know that they've forever immortalized our terrible fear and acne-stricken faces and slightly too-light-wash American Eagle flares on the first-day-of-high-school picture. You've made it possible to watch the other team's game-winning goal over, and over, and over again. Well done.
Okay, so maybe all this blog showed you is that I take filming way too seriously. But, hopefully this gave you a little understanding of how the game looks from my side of the camera.
Until next time!
Sept. 22, 2014
When writing a blog, the only thing one fears more than having nothing to write about is having lots of things that they don't want to write about. Unfortunately, the latter describes my current situation. Alright, that's not entirely true. Last week posited some perfectly positive events (check that alliteration). On Tuesday won big against Ashland thanks to some great play and magic from Grace "I'm so cool God basically made five of me" Miorelli. We also enjoyed a charming potluck featuring everything you can't get at Chuck's (which is basically just....everything) and got to meet Sarah Storkel's adorably fat cherub of a nephew. However, otherwise, if there was ever a time that our lives resembled a book of the Bible, it would be last week, the book would be "Job," and losses, injuries, and tears would fight for starring roles.
Fortunately, as another book of the Bible, "Ecclesiastes", reminds us, there is a time for everything - both good and bad. Thankfully, we have the hope that comes with faith in a sovereign God. Just as there is a time for everything, there is generally a place for everything; I think this blog should be a place for a few laughs. If we ever needed some, it would be this week. So, for now, I'll leave out the details and just ask for prayer for the team and our injuries. I will also conveniently overlook the fact that you know you're in a bad place when you use Ecclesiastes as a source of hope and perspective....
Anyway, I will now offer you an exclusive inside look into the typical day of a female college soccer player. For all you moms out there that wish your daughters actually answered your thoughtful 1000 questions about their days, the following should give you the details you've always wanted!
If You were a Lady Yellow Jacket, Your Day Would Look Something Like This....
8 am-9 am: You wake up. This event always comes with several probing questions and thoughts. These vary depending on the events of the previous day.
After a game day: When exactly did I get run over by a heard of elephants yesterday? My alarm tone is called "Serenity," so why am I murderously angry? Would sleeping five more minutes be worth the pain of going through all of this again?....Yes.
After an away game day: Is it legal for me to have an 8:30 am class after getting back to school at 2 am? Is it possible that the terrible angle I slept in on the bus last night left me partially paralyzed? Am I actually alive or is purgatory a thing?
After a normal practice day: Oh no....No game yesterday....No game tomorrow....Great, today's a fitness day. Why am I not sore?...wait....whoop, there it is.
After a Sunday: What I wouldn't give for the Sabbath to be on a Monday...
9 am-10 am: You get ready. This is the moment where you have to ask yourself the incredibly unfair question of whether or not it is worth looking nice when you know that everything you do now will soon dissolve into the oh so attractive "Oh....you tried to wear mascara and sweat?" Look. It can become quite a battle:
You: "Alright, I've worn my hair up so much that I think it's starting to grow into the shape of a ponytail. I need to at least curl it."
You: "Buuuut...If I curl my hair then I have to wear cute clothes."
You: "Okay, so maybe I just go for 'cute sporty.' That's a thing, right?"
You: "Yeah that's totally a thing...the only problem is...you haven't actually gotten out of bed and chapel is in 15 minutes."
You: "Can I curl my hair...in bed?"
You: "Alright, at this point you just need to make it into the shower."
You: "But, I'm supposed to look cute!"
You: "Tomorrow...you'll look cute tomorrow. Besides, the only thing Proverbs 31 says about dressing is that 'She dresses herself with strength.' *flexes* Check." Jeans and a t-shirt it is.
11 am-2 pm: Lunch. Wondering if it's possible to strain your neck from jerking awake so many times in chapel, you scan the cafeteria and begin the intense self-justification process for why you need pizza, pasta, AND a sandwich. Fortunately, the list of reasons is endless:
1) You've got a game tomorrow. So...carbo load
2) You had a game two days ago. So...carbo recovery load.
3) You have a game a week from now. So...never too early to carbo load
Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like anyone else in Chuck's understands or cares about that list because they're all staring. Initiate vicious cycle of feeling insecure about eating your fourth piece of pizza and silently judging them for not understanding your life.
3 pm-4:30 pm: This is a particularly interesting part of the day when you start to reflect on the fact that soccer will take up approximately the next three-ish hours of your life. You get irrationally angry with all the people whose smiles seem to say "The only decisions I have to make today are whether or not I'm going to watch 1 or 7 episodes of Netflix." You glance at your day planner and begin to think what your life would be like if you replaced every soccer related entry with "Nap." Finally, you self-affirm. "I chose this life." "I like soccer." "I AM A BEAUTIFUL PERSON." By the time practice comes along. You're ready.
5-6:55 pm: Practice. Most of the time practice is interesting and diverting. After all, you do love this sport. But, you're lying to yourself if you don't admit to at least considering learning how to tell time by the sun. Thankfully, you don't have to, as you've developed a very extensive code for indirectly asking for the time. ("So if you were cooking a chicken...what temperature would you set...maybe 545...degrees?"). You've also perfected the I-may-look-like-I-care-about-overlapping-runs-but-really-I'm-looking-straight-past-you-and-at-the-rotissserie-chicken-I-hope-is-left-at-Chucks face. Very effective. You divide the rest of your time praying you don't hear the words "fitness" or "on the line," wondering why coach always sees you pass to the other team but never sees you score a beautiful goal, and trying to decide whether the practice pennies are "Coral" or "Salmon." All in all, you stay engaged, have some fun, and successfully avoid wearing shin-guards for most of the time. It's a good day.
6:55 pm-7 pm: Cool down run. Only the true Lady Jacket will understand why these five minutes deserve their own category. Let's just say that we aren't questioning the benefits of this five minute post-practice jog. Buuuuut, we are open to the idea that it is 1) Not actually five minutes, but perhaps two hours and 2) An alternative to traditional torture methods. You always make it through, but it's always touch and go.
11 pm-Let's not talk about it.: You are now forced to figure out how exactly you devoted four hours to showering and eating. You think it might be because Chuck's at 7 pm is very near famine conditions. That has to be it because you know the only other thing you've done was check your Twitter which only took you five minutes, max. Regardless, it's 11 pm and you finally open the books, promising yourself that tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, you'll be the picture of productivity. Tomorrow, you will curl your hair.
Until next time!
Sept. 15, 2014
"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit." When I first heard this oft-quoted line, my dad was casting pearls before nine-year-olds and trying to use Aristotle to make me keep my room clean. That's just one of many examples of my dad's instruction ever-so-slightly overshooting my level of understanding. (I spent the majority of the early 90's trying to figure out what "deliberate disobedience" and "absolutely unacceptable behavior" meant besides "....so....this is a bad thing...?"). Anyway, my father's premature application of this Aristotelian wisdom does not make it any less true. Unfortunately, my teammates and I had to learn this the hard way.
Despite the disappointment of the previous weekend (See Blog 2), we entered this last week optimistically. Regardless of the stats (or lack thereof), we left WV Wesleyan knowing that we were going to handedly beat a very good team. So, as you can imagine, the team that attended Monday and Tuesday's practice slightly resembled middle school girls who think they look way to cool in their Ugg-boots. Don't misunderstand me. We still practiced well and understood that our first home match against ODU would be formidable. But, we weren't exactly in danger of being too intense. Unfortunately, we soon saw the error of our ways.
Wednesday, the day of our home-opener, dawned bright and clear. Everyone across campus could feel the electricity of the impending events. Annnd, by everyone I may or may not mean the 20 girls wearing matching shirts and greeting each other with "Game Day" in I'm-a-white-girl-trying-to-sound-like-an-intimidating-black-man voices. (Yes, it is completely necessary; and yes, I include myself in that description). Nothing could bring us down, not even the fact that someone made the font on our shirts too small and "Cedarville Women's Soccer" was about as legible as a too-long hashtag. We carried that optimism right into our warm-up and important pre-game assessments of ourselves ("Should we walk out to T-swift or something more...rapp..y?"), our opponents ("Alright, #14 and #21 totally have the best hair on their team and her bone structure is off the chain"), and other important technical aspects of the game ("Sarah, it's not Optimistic Olivia it's clearly Optimistic Opal!") Basically, we were ready to win.
Long story short, we didn't. Long story long, they trounced us; it was the ODU Soccer Clinic and CUWS had front-row seats; we came, we saw, we died. If this was an inspirational sports movie we were the bad team BEFORE the moving montage where pushups, generally intense facial expressions, and 80's soft-rock make us champions in 24 hours. Welcome to Loserville University, we hope you enjoyed your stay.
Alright, clearly they don't call me Chloe, the Dramatic for nothing; it wasn't really that bad. Like coach said, we did have some moments of brilliance and great plays. But, our overall performance and intensity level were sub-par. Thus, we lost our first home game, 3-0. Afterward, basically the only bright spots in our bleak black cloud of an existence were the hallowed cupcakes that the Mahek family brought. Thanks, Maheks! You (and your cupcakes), are the real MVP's.
Predictably, Thursday's practice began with a talk from our coaches. Through a rousing two-part speech featuring Bri's excellent knowledge of classic sport metaphors and Coach Mac's knowledge of every single player, game, and season that has ever been distantly involved with Cedarville, we received the reality check we needed. We had begun to see winning as a right rather than a privilege. As a result, we'd spent the past few weeks practicing with an air of apathy and under performance and assumed we could just turn on the intensity when necessary. Unfortunately, our performance against ODU proved that "Practice makes permanent" is a lot more accurate than "Practice makes perfect." With their typical grace and patience, our coaches encouraged more than critiqued and simply asked that we put in the time, effort, and attitude winning requires.
Thankfully, we did. If our Monday practice was not intense enough, then our Thursday and Friday practices were slightly more intense than Nike commercials. We practiced hard, fast, and well. No one went easy (My crippled ankle thanks you, Carly) and everyone focused their energy into some of the best practices we've put together this season. This time, for our second home game, a Saturday match against Tiffin, we really were ready to win.
Long story short, we did. Not only did we win, but we dominated. Kristie Wolff repeated a record-tying performance. Everyone played quickly and accurately. Elise Hurley scored her first goal of her last season and Jacoby added two to her own tally. Most excitingly, we beat Tiffin University for the FIRST TIME in Lady Yellow Jackets history. It was official: We were definitely the team AFTER the I-know-this-is-completely-unrealistic-but-I'm-definitely-still-crying-because-it's-so-ridiculously-inspirational sports movie montage.
There are many speculations on why that game went so well. Scholars have submitted that it was the beautiful fall weather. Others think it may have been the excellent fan base (shout out to whoever made a massive sign entirely out of Melissa's face). Personally, I'll always slightly believe the theory that we owe it to receiving our long-sleeve uniforms AND our beautiful, oh-so-voluptuous puffy coats before the game. However, we all know the truth. Aristotle got it right. We played well that day, because we practiced well the day before, and the day before that. We put in the intensity behind the scenes, and our performance reflected that. We beat Tiffin because we worked towards a legacy instead of letting our legacy work for us.
Ideally, we wouldn't have had to experience the heartbreaker with ODU to learn the lessons of this week. But, at least we did learn them...and...it did fit perfectly into the inspirational sports movie metaphor in this blog. So, I think we can live with it....kind of.
Until next time!
Sept. 9, 2014
Sometimes I like to think of our (the team's) lives as a TV show. And, if there was ever a time that our lives deserved to be filmed, it was this past week. As for the name of our TV show, I haven't quite figured that out. I'm leaning towards "Chloe West and Friends", but "Keeping up with the Kardjacketans" and "How I met our Goalie" are also frontrunners. Anyway, our last game proved that truth really is stranger (and more disappointing) than fiction. With a 3-1 victory over West Virginia Wesleyan within our reach, lightning ripped the game from our hands and the record books. We needed to play 70 minutes for the game to count, and we missed it by eight minutes. The events of that game seem unforeseeable. But, as the following will reveal, we really should've seen it coming.
Sign #1: The Urbana game was great...too great.
On Thursday, we began our season at Urbana University. It was a perfect day. The sun was shining and our spirits were high. We warmed up well despite Urbana's jarring "Here are the first 10 seconds of 500 unrelated songs in rapid succession" warm-up music. And, after a much more enjoyable national anthem, (five-part harmony with a falsetto that couldn't and wouldn't stop), we played a great game. We won, 3-1, and Kristie assisted all three goals (I see you, fifth player to do so in Lady Yellow Jacket history). Afterwards, we returned home just in time for dinner and to watch the boys trounce Saint Joseph's. At this point, if our lives were a TV show, it would be a 1950s, our-lives-are-as-perfect-as-our-slightly-creepy-smiles, sitcom (Perhaps: "Coach Knows Best"). So, at that moment, we really should've reminded ourselves of the good old Biblical maxim, "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh Away." Because then....
Sign #2: Our next game was in West Virginia.
West Virginia is a great state. After all, it's the birthplace of my grandparents (Go, Mimi and Papa!). But, let's be honest, it's a weird place. For example, along the way there, we passed a building with the words "Food - Barn - Ice Cream" on its front. What exactly does that advertise? A restaurant? A cost-effective amusement park? The never-before-heard fifth verse of "These are a Few of My Favorite Things"? Clearly, we should've known that we were in for something out of the ordinary when we buckled up for a game in West Virginia.
Sign #3: The "Locker Room"
Upon arriving at the school, we assumed we'd be shown into a locker room where we'd dress, focus our thoughts, and perform our traditional pre-game chant of "Red-hot." But, instead, we learned that the football team had taken our locker room and left us with a strange and seemingly purposeless large room as a substitute. There were no lockers, no showers, and the doors threatened to open at any moment. This room prompted several questions. Why did this game suddenly feel like a horror film? Did this mean no showers? Since when do schools actually have real football teams?! Although these questions were valid, we really should've recognized our strange environment for what it was: a warning that our game was going to be weird and disappointing.
Sign #4: Their Warm-Up
As we sat in the makeshift changing room, the other team suddenly burst through the doors to the tune of their warm-up music. I use the term "warm-up music" in the loosest sense of the word. Personally, I think the debauchery that poured forth from those speakers would've been better suited as a soundtrack to "Sodom and Gomorrah: The Movie." As we awkwardly sat and watched them alternate between a legitimate warm-up routine and a....less than legitimate dancing routine, our reactions varied. I believe the whole scene is best summed up in the words of Jacoby "Chubs" Ziegler: "my soul...it...it hurts..." With this first vision of our opponents, we really, really should've known we were in for a bizarre night.
Sign #5: The Celebration that Almost Killed Bri
Amazingly, despite the circumstances, we managed to play a great game. The WVW Bobcats are a great team, but we dominated them from the beginning. After Jacoby netted the first goal, we were all ecstatic. In her haste to celebrate the goal, Coach Bri failed to properly swallow her water. What resulted is best compared to a strangled shout, followed by a spew of water and an oh-so-attractive combination of laughter and hacking. At that point, with our coach's celebration quickly turning into her own private battle with her esophagus, we really, really, really, should've known that we were in for quite the evening.
So, there you have it. Although it might seem impossible to predict driving nine hours, playing 62 minutes, and scoring three goals without technically winning anything, we probably should've known something was going to happen.
Thankfully, there is one positive way in which this week resembled a TV show: all the events taught us a valuable lesson. The takeaway? That there are some things that can't be taken away. Although Saturday was a major disappointment, we still had several victories that weekend. Personally, I sustained a direct knee to the abdomen without rupturing any major organs. Also, we got to watch Carly "You think this is too far out to be a shot? Watch me" Gregory score an absolute zinger from at least 5000 yards away. Finally, and most importantly, playing a game without getting a result gave us an improved understanding of what it means to play for God's glory and nothing else. We walked away from that game with nothing but the knowledge that the minutes we did play were done so in His name. And, that was enough. We can look back on that game with smiles on our faces and pride in our hearts because we played hard and well without compromising our testimony as Christian athletes. The weather may have taken away our stats, but it did not take away our performance. We played "For Him" and we did it well.
Although our team may never produce enough material for a TV show, at least it will keep these blogs coming. Stay tuned until next week!
Sept. 3, 2014
Hello! My name is Chloe West. Adequately capturing our preseason, first scrimmages, and trip to Costa Rica in this blog takes 1st place in the "Difficult Things in my Life as a College Soccer Player" Contest. But, fortunately, it also tops my "Things I'm Honored to Do" List. So, I guess it all evens out.
As I said, we have been busy ever since we returned to campus for our Missions Trip to Costa Rica. After two days of meetings, practices, and an informative discussion on what the packing list actually meant by "knee-length shorts," we were ready. So, on August 5th, we put on our "Hi, we're Americans!" jeans and matching t-shirt combo, and set off. Many hours and not exactly delicious airplane meals later, we were in Costa Rica.
Simply put, our trip to Costa Rica was sublime. Language barriers were broken, Hashtags were created (#CU2CR, #RicaGangOrDie), and no sunburns were sustained (Way to beat the odds, Jacoby!). We also learned many important lessons. First, despite popular belief, Carly Gregory does have one fear and it is air-travel. Second, the Spanish word for "suit-case" is almost indistinguishable from the Spanish word for "team." (Just ask Hannah "I need you guys to break up into two suitcases!" Velloney). Third, Sarah Storkel's voice will reach heights previously unheard in the natural world if she feels like she's been wronged ("Would you do that for Elise? YES"). Finally, if love binds us together (Colossians 3:14), then Euchre tournaments tear us apart ("I don't want your dirty, cheating hands touching my cards...").
In all seriousness, I look back on our 10 days in Costa Rica and see a wealth of growth and experiences. Working with Score International, an organization that uses sports as a medium for ministry, we split our time almost evenly between service and soccer. In a typical day, we visited orphanages or schools in the mornings, coached mini-soccer camps in the afternoons, and played full-length matches with local women's teams in the evenings. It's frustratingly impossible to capture all the experiences we had, the people we met, and the lessons we learned. So, I'll just focus on one blessing from the trip:
Being on a team of 20 young girls often guarantees more differences than similarities. We are basically only guaranteed two commonalities: a love of soccer and a love for Christ. These seem to pale in comparison to numerous differences, but the truth is, they are all that matters in our role as Christian athletes. Our time in Costa Rica was an excellent realization of that. Serving and playing together in that environment showed us what it means to view our sport in light of our Lord and use the former to honor the latter. We soon realized what was important and what wasn't and it made all the difference. We've grown together in a new way and I really believe our pre-game cheers of "We are One" and "For Him" have a deeper resonance since that trip. If we can let those sentiments color the rest of our season, we will be doing alright.
Returning for preseason and practice is always difficult; doing so after a wonderful 10 day trip is nearly impossible. This is why I'll never be able to say that I didn't enjoy our extra night in Costa Rica due to a broken plane (Free food and a night in a fancy hotel? I'm not mad about it.) However, we did eventually return to corn-fields and the business of collegiate soccer. Unfortunately, logistical delays, jet-lag, and a team sinus-infection (no one was safe), made for a slow and painful pre-season. However, thanks to our fearless leaders, Coach Mac and Bri, we have survived. Our team picture has been taken, Friday marked our last fitness test, and a successful pre-season scrimmage campaign (2-0 in games against Georgetown and Wilmington) is in the books. We are ready to go for our first game this Thursday at Urbana!
Finally, although none of us thought that anything at CU could compare to the general excitement of our time in Costa Rica, we've already been proven wrong. On Friday, August 29th, our very own Elise Hurley learned that she would be celebrating her last Labor Day as an un-married woman thanks to Brent Holuta and his adorable/perfectly executed proposal. Callan Athletic Center now knows what it's like to sustain the simultaneous screams of 25 college girls reacting to a beautiful ring. The general consensus on the merits of the ring came out to be: "Omg, I'm so jealous, Brent is such a man and that diamond is the bomb. Omg, your life. I'm dying. Omg." I'd say we have a way with words.
And so we start our first week of the official season. We are excited for our first match against Urbana. With our five team pillars in mind (Humility, Work Ethic, Legacy, Team-Focused, and Christ-Centered), we stand poised for a season dedicated to working hard and performing for the glory of the Lord. We are one and it is for Him. As for me, I just hope I can get it all down in these blogs. Stay tuned!
Chloe West is a junior at Cedarville University from Springfield, Ohio and majoring in English and Spanish.
