When I was choosing my first co- curricular, I made sure that I would be part of the Boys Thirds Soccer team. The legends of a goat cookout at the end of the year and a great communal environment made me think it was the perfect place for me to start. I gathered much of what I remembered from my time playing youth soccer in second grade and decided that this team would be the home for me. Unfortunately, as try outs passed, I started to realise my chances were extremely slim.
That year, players found a bigger appeal in playing for fun at the thirds level, leaving the JV team with around six players at the start of the season and thirds with forty players. So the Thirds team ended up emulating what the JV team was supposed to look like.
Then, my golden opportunity arrived. Mr. Hadzima said that if anyone wanted to play for JV, they could make the team. My Prep self could not swallow the possibility of getting cut from a Thirds Soccer team at Hotchkiss. So, I immediately said yes.
But every time I said, “I play on JV,” it was a gut-wrenching feeling—because I knew the truth. I had covered up the fact that I was going to get cut from a Thirds team by replacing it with an “ambition to play better soccer.” I felt like a liar.
The JV team lost 11 games that year. We scored one single goal in our 7th game, making the previously sad coaches and bench light up with joy. We got so excited about putting a number up on the score board that we rushed onto the field. Ultimately, we ended up losing that game 2-1. And after that game, we continued losing, up until the athletic department decided to cut the JV program. They split the team into two halves: one would join Thirds, and the other would join Varsity. I ended up in the same Thirds team that I had decided to leave.
Even though I had first joined Thirds for the glory of winning and seeming like a good soccer player to others, the reasons for why I’m sad about our disbandment are much different now. It wasn’t a win or even that goal that made me proud of the team; it was the many practices and ten games we lost that allowed my team to gather with a sense of purpose, goal, and comradery. Those times of embarrassment remain the most memorable and vivid.
This year, I decided to join wrestling, even though returning wrestlers kept warning me about how challenging training would be. In some ways, wrestling to me felt like JV Soccer all over again. I couldn’t even complete a smooth back roll until after winter break. But this time, I knew what moments to look forward to: the small moments of victory.
I hit a take down my first time ever wearing a onesie in front of a home crowd. My friends and teammates were cheering as I prepared to go for a pin against my first ever opponent. And then the inevitable event happened…I got pinned and lost.
In fact, I lost every single wrestling match I had that season. But I enjoyed those losses, not just because they brought a good laugh to the dinner table, but because improvement is rewarding, and being vulnerable to yourself and the others around you is joyful.
I pray that we won’t shy away from our true selves for the pursuit of who we want to become, because it is in the moments when you think you have broken down that great things arise.
So, thank you Hotchkiss, my friends, family members, those coaches who lost with me, faculty members who helped me become who I am now through the times of struggle, vulnerability, and sometimes… embarrassment.
