I don’t think it was asked of me to do a recap of the Sugar Gliders’ past year, but it seems like a good way to wrap up this blog (I warn those of you reading, that this is my longest entry to date). It’s been three weeks since graduation, and this new life, away from Hendrix, is taking some time getting used to. Graduation itself was surreal, scary even. The hustle and bustle of caps and gowns, moving out, saying goodbyes (Dr. Tinsley, if you still read this, know that I’m pissed you buggered off before meeting my folks), and then to suddenly be at home… feels a bit odd. I’ve needed time to think, and still do. But what follows are my thoughts on our season, and the tough lessons I’ve learned as a captain, both on and off the field.
I remember a year ago, I was getting my game plan ready for the upcoming semester. How would I run practice? What kinds of skills were we going to learn, and at what pace? What tone was I going to set? What were our vets’ strengths and weaknesses? I remember facebook chatting with the other senior on the team, talking about how I wanted us to win a game at Itchfest.
“Whoa, now, Reena. I think you might be getting a little ahead of yourself. Maybe, we should aim for winning a game by Sectionals.”
This was the status of our team. What did it say about us? We were the laughing-stock of the South. “Well, if you can’t beat Hendrix, then you can’t beat any team.” Ouch.
We may not have had any kind of serious winning streak, nor did we ever place in the top half of the tournaments we went to. But when I think of what all we’ve accomplished, I am thrilled. Our numbers just about doubled, and we won a game at Itchfest, a game at Harvest Moon (I’m going to go ahead and ignore the nonexistent women’s bracket at HUX), and three games at Midwest Throwdown. Of course, our bracket placement was never the greatest, but for a team to start winning games again gives it the motivation to want to win more. It gives the girls the motivation to try harder and to push themselves, and each other, to greater levels. And with that, comes some great bonding, on and off the field.
There are a lot of things I’ve learned from this year. For starters, I’ve realized that you cannot do it all. I am a perfectionist, but in the strangest sense. I choose to be a perfectionist with things that I know certainly will be far from perfect (ok, in reality, nothing in life can be perfect, but my point is, that some things are harder than others). Artwork is one example. I wanted to make perfect art. Didn’t/Couldn’t happen. Gave it up. I want perfect arms. Close, but no cigar, though push-ups were my favorite bragging point, and conditioning of choice, at practice. I wanted to be the perfect captain. I wanted to make all of my planned-out changes, and have them be successful, instantly. Let’s just say I was far from being a perfect captain, and even further from making all of those changes.
Recently, I joined Huntsville Summer League, three weeks late, but was put on a team seriously lacking women. PoopOn! was the team name, exclamation mark included. Now that my IT band has miraculously healed five weeks after I needed it to (yes, I am bitter), I get unbelievable amounts of playing time. We lost, a horrendous 4-13, which seemed strange. It was my first time playing with such a group of people –the first team I’d been on that weren’t the Sugar Gliders– that weren’t my best friends or in my age group, even. But I knew, straight off the bat, that these folks had great skills, and a great love of Ultimate. So what happened? Why didn’t we do as well as we could have and should have? As we got together periodically throughout the games in our group huddle, I noticed our captain exhibiting the same kinds of frustrations that I had exhibited from time to time with the Sugar Gliders.
“Why aren’t things clicking? Where’s the flow and chemistry? Why are we so negative about losing a few points instead of getting back on the horse and giving it our 100%?”
Why, hello former captain self. Or should I say, hello to every captain who has to deal with the same issues and obstacles.
It was definitely dreamlike to be back on the other side. I had gotten so used to being on the captain side that I’d forgotten what it was like to be on just the player side. I think that at times, being captain could be an isolating position, one which very few people get to experience or know the challenges and difficulties of being one. But as I listened to our captain, I thought to myself, “Buddy, I’m right there with ya. I know how it feels.” And yet I also knew how the rest of PoopOn!, and of course, the Sugar Gliders, must have felt during all those huddles.
Being captain of a group of women who were also some of my closest friends, coupled with the drastic changes in discipline and competitiveness, proved to be, well, isolating and frustrating from time to time. There were certainly points during the year in which I found myself saying, “This isn’t what I bargained for.”
Last week was Oprah’s final show (ok, just… bear with me for a second. This is relevant, I swear). And although I am no major fan of her shows and her uncanny ability to interrupt all of her guests as they try to speak, I happened to tune in at the most opportune time. If there’s one thing that Oprah has learned in her years of running the show (I realize I risk losing credibility by saying all this), it’s that people want to feel worthy. They want to feel worth. They want to feel that what they’re doing matters to someone.
I think, that throughout the year, I wanted to feel worth as a captain. I wanted to have value. I wanted to be desirable, appealing, significant. I wanted to feel that what I was doing actually mattered to the team. I think a bulk of my frustrations also came from this desire to feel worth. During captaincy, I often felt that what I was doing went unappreciated –that what I was doing was some kind of noble act of “singlehandedly” revamping the team– and as a result, I was a bit annoyed.
But what I didn’t realize was that, a) What I’m doing is no noble task, but instead, a respectable responsibility which, of course, should be held to a high regard, and thus should not think of myself as some sort of goddess, singlehandedly revamping a team; b) The nature of being captain, or of having any kind of position of leadership, means that you’re taking on a bit of a thankless job; and, c) I do have worth as a captain, and what I do does matter to the team, it just may not be openly expressed. Not realizing these things was mistake numero dos, and at times, caused me to be a bit bitter. Selfish? Perhaps. But at least I am honest.
The biggest lesson I’ve learned by far, is the one about love (the cheesy-ness just gets worse and worse, doesn’t it?). I could go on and on about the mistakes I made and the things I could have done better (scroll down to the bottom, I’ve put them in bullet point form for advice to future captains AND players). For the last few weeks, and throughout the year, I often found that I would beat myself up for said mistakes. But really, to do so is foolish. We’re only human, and mistakes are how we learn. They are inevitable and cannot be avoided. But those mistakes are ok, so long as you love what you’re doing, work honestly and passionately, and love for whom you are working.
For awhile, I thought that I perhaps had loved this team too much. It’s been with me through the thick and thin. It’s been the dominant structure in my life while at Hendrix. How could I not love something that had given me so much during my four years? Whenever I felt that my entire world was crashing down (melodrama ensues), the team, and this sport, was always there for me to put away my issues, if only for a few precious hours. How could I not love something like that?
But what’s the point in loving something when it doesn’t seem to love you back? I recently read an article in the New York Times Op-Ed which seemed to ask a similar question: Why just like things, superficially, when you can truly love? Sure, it may hurt, but to not love is to lead a shallow life. Why did I bother to love a team so deeply, to love a group of girls so much, if I didn’t feel that love in return, when I didn’t feel that worth?
Wrong.
Loving this team was the greatest thing I could have done for them… and for myself. Regardless of the mistakes I made, I don’t think it so much mattered, because I loved these girls –and they knew it. A few blunders here and there aren’t so bad when you know your intentions are good and the love is still there. So main lesson: Love the team, and they will love you back, flaws and all. Loving this team could never be a regret, and in my heart of hearts I know, that they loved me back.
My 7 Main Lessons Learned:
1. You can’t do it all –so don’t try.
2. You can’t be the perfect captain or player –so also don’t try.
3. Love your team and your teammates with everything you’ve got. Work hard for them. And they’ll work hard for you. And love you back.
4. You set the tone and example, and to contradict yourself will only confuse your teammates.
5. Remain as positive as possible, even if you have to lie through your teeth. Girls always need positivity and reinforcement.
6. With that being said, don’t be afraid to punish them when they deserve it.
7. Make sure you have the support and trust of your teammates… as both your teammates and your friends. By supporting each other and making sure you’re on the same page, you’ll avoid a lot of unnecessary conflicts.
Faithful readers, I applaud you if you’re still reading. Thank you. And thanks to everyone who did read the blog of a perhaps overly sentimental and emotional captain, trying to lead a tiny, but growing team. Some of you are my teammates and friends, and some of you are folks who play on big name teams and run big name organizations. Nonetheless I appreciate all the support.
To my Sugar Gliders, don’t ever hold yourselves back, on or off the field. Love and support each other as much as you can, for the lessons you learn from each other and the friendships you make with one another will last you a lifetime.