competition

There's something about competition that strikes a chord with me. I haven't had a chance to really compete since November 8, 2002 (yes, I looked it up). I've encountered a few alumni thrashings and worked some camps but there's something about being part of a team that comes together ideally with the same goals and passion in order to compete together.

During my senior year of high school I was really debating the idea of playing soccer in college. Did I love it enough? Was I good enough? How much weight should I put on soccer when deciding where I should spend the next four years? I decided to go to Gardner-Webb, a school transitioning to Division I where I could try to walk-on, but the coach didn't seem to be throwing parties about my impending arrival. My parents paid the deposit and I was ready to go... until March 16, 2000 (yes, I looked it up) when the soccer coach at Methodist, Bobby, e-mailed me. He had e-mailed me before. He had even seen me play, we talked on the phone periodically and he sent me a letter every month, but I really wasn't feeling it. Let's just say Methodist and I weren't exactly love at first sight. But there was something about Bobby's e-mail that day that made me realize I wasn't ready to give up the game. I wanted to compete.

When I arrived at Methodist I covered my side of the walls of Weaver 221 with memories of home, countless posters and one of my favorite reminders of why I was there...

"It's not about getting a scholarship, getting drafted or making Sports Center. It's a deep need in us that comes from the heart. We need to practice, to play, to lift, to hustle, to sweat. We do it all for our teammates and for the guy in our calculus class we don't even know. We don't practice with a future Twins first basemen; we practice with a future sports agent. We don't lift weights with a future Olympic wrestler; we lift with a future doctor. We don't run with a future Wimbledon champion, we run with a future CEO. It's a bigger part of us than our friends and family can understand. Sometimes we play for 2,000 fans, sometimes 25. But we still play hard. You cheer for us because you know us. You know more than just our names. Like all of you, we are still students first. We don't sign autographs. But we do sign graduate school applications, MCAT exams and student body petitions. When we miss a kick, or strike out, we don't let down an entire state. We only let down our teammates, coaches and fans. But the hurt in our hearts is the same. We train hard. Lift, throw, run, kick, tackle, shoot, dribble and lift some more, and in the morning we go to class. Still the next day in class we are nothing more than students. It's about pride in ourselves and in our school. And when it's all over, when we walk off that court or field for the last time, our hearts crumble. Those tears are real. But deep down inside, we are very proud of ourselves. We will forever be what few can cl.. college athletes." -- Sean Sornsin, Cornell College (Iowa)

Sometimes I have to re-read it... to remind myself of where I've been... where I'm going. I spent the last three days getting schooled in my attempt to play soccer with the elite Methodist camp. I was deemed "old" amongst the 20 others ranging from 12 to 21. I've never been speedy gonzales, but I keep getting slower... my touches are off... my shots are wide and I still don't have a right foot... but it didn't matter because I was able to spend a few more hours out on the field kicking a stupid ball that means so much to me. It struck a chord and made me itch for the Methodist season to start... another season of living vicariously through the athletes that won't really know or appreciate what they've done until it's over.