Watching them lose was very hard for me, not because I’m a student at IC and they are my football team, but because I could see and feel the frustration the players were feeling. And I could understand and empathize with it. It was hard because they’re my team, but I haven’t been with them more than 2 weeks. We don’t have much of a connection, not like Jackie, the senior who’s been with them since pre-season. Indirectly, the athletic training staff is a member of the team, but it’s hard to have that connection when you yourself haven’t been with them that long.

So because of this, I found it hard to do much of any interaction with the athletes after the game. If they asked me to wrap ice, or check/re-dress a wound, I did so, the only words I’d give them being “Okay, you’re all set,” or “the bus is that way.” There was only one athlete I said more to, and it wasn’t even all that much: “Just get past this and do good in the game next weekend. You got this.”

I can’t tell you what ‘this’ is, except that, if you’re an athlete yourself, you’ll understand.

Once we returned to the training room on campus, I ran into Andrew, a defensive lineman. I had remembered that during the game, he hurt his ribs (someone stepped on him, I think?), and so, I asked him “How are you feeling?”

And perhaps I should’ve been more frank and said “How’s your chest?” Because I’m pretty sure he took that as a naive girl’s attempts at trying to be consoling, and so, he replied, slightly sarcastically “Just peachy.”

I’m really glad I’m good at biting my tongue, because I was tired, I was cold, I was freaking out because I was dealing with an emergency involving a friend (it’s been sorted out, more or less), and my first impulse was to say “Quit bitching and whining. You’ve got Cortaca next weekend and then a chance again next year.”

And like I said, I’m glad I kept my temper in check. I went back to my room and looked up the roster, figuring I might as well learn SOME of the football player’s names before I finish my rotation with them after Cortaca. And there I discovered that Andrew is a senior, meaning he has no more chances after this.

Immediately, I thought of my last soccer game. By last soccer game, I mean last career soccer game. Intramurals don’t count. And no, I didn’t feel bad, because I was still annoyed at him. I’m not naive. I know first-hand how it feels to lose the game that ends your playing career for life. I know how it feels to not only lose that game, but to also lose horribly. 3-0 is a decently sized point gap in soccer. It was the same thing that happened today that happened 4 years ago to me; our team just wasn’t finishing like we usually did. An off game, and it’s a shame that everything ended because of an off-game.

I doubt they’re aware of my history. And it wouldn’t be surprising; it’s not like I’m playing soccer now. It still irks me that they seem to just assume without a doubt that I’m just a girl that has no experience with the blood sweat and tears you sacrifice and the heart your pour into to being the best you can be and win. And it irks me that they seem to think that I don’t understand the pain of that career-ending loss. I understand better than you think, boys. I just wish I could express that better with you. But it’s really hard to talk that intimately with people I don’t really know.

Throughout the game today, I was continuously brought back to that game. I couldn’t even begin to convey the frustration I felt during the second half once they scored goal after goal, 3 within 20 minutes, it was ridiculous. And then the heartbreak. I couldn’t stop my tears. And I fought with all of my willpower. I had too much pride to show that kind of weakness. And as I was receiving the little 2nd place medal and honors, nothing I did stopped the crying. Actually, writing about it and remembering it is making me emotional all over again. My eyes keep watering up even as I type this.

This is the passion and love I have for this sport. I just wish I could tell the other guys that. Not that it really matters at this point, since I’m only spending, what, one more week with them anyway. It’ll be just like the soccer team; once I finish my rotation, we won’t even glance at each other and say “hi” in passing =/

I don’t know if you would ever guess looking at me, but when it comes down to my skills, I’m not confident at all. Playing in high school, I was told I was good, but I was also told that I wasn’t good enough. I don’t think the people who talked to me realized what they were saying when they said it, but the message came across as clear: “You did good, but that girl over better is even better.”

Was it to try and motivate me (I’m a highly competitive person) to work harder? That might have been their intentions. Unfortunately, while I’m competitive, my self-esteem is terrible, so if someone tells me I’m not good enough, then it comes across as “You’ll never be good enough.”

I’m not trying to single him out, but Dad did that a lot. I don’t think he knows that he was even doing it (he tends to be oblivious to absolutely everything). But hearing him critique my gameplay, and then turn around and talk about how Mike Guerriere was “amazing,” (And yes, Mike is/was(?) an amazing player, probably one of the best in our region. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made it as far as the National Team) really ground it into my skull that my skill level had reached a plateau and that I couldn’t climb any higher.

What knocked me down and out were tryouts my freshman year at IC. I didn’t make the first cuts, and it was so disheartening for me; it just solidified my belief that I’d never be good enough. I wasn’t fast enough, my footwork wasn’t accurate enough, my leg wasn’t strong enough, I wasn’t good enough.

It was when Kristen talked to me that I thought “Well, maybe I am good enough after all.”

It was just a Friday AT hour in the training room, and Kristen and I were talking about soccer. She had nearly made the varsity team herself, but was cut after injuring her ankle. And I’ve seen her play. Hell, I’ve played against her. I played her team in the championship intramural game last block, when I sustained my concussion. She’s an amazing player. And we were just talking about soccer and missing it, and she then suggested that the two of us work hard over the summer and then try out in the fall.

At first I was resistant. Why bother, knowing that I surely wouldn’t make it? And I let her know that I probably wouldn’t make it. That I felt like, ever since the cut, the varsity team was on an unreachable level.

And then she had told me “I’ve seen a lot of people play, in intramurals and stuff. And I really think you could make it.”

Coming from a peer in the sport, especially one who was as good of a player as she was, gave me that spark of hope.

So I went to see Coach. I told her about the mistakes I had made, and how I missed playing and how I wanted to try again. She didn’t turn me down whatsoever. Instead, she told me “Come up to practice Friday at 6.”

And I did. And I was amazed with myself. I’m behind a little with skills since it’s been a really long time that I’ve played on that kind of level, but I held my own. I did good. And Coach agreed with me. She had let me know that I was a little behind, but I had very good speed (I’ve always been fast on the green — I was known as the deer/gazelle, when I played in high school). And she was very encouraging that once I got back into the swing of things, I’d be on that kind of level. And she invited me to go back again, tomorrow morning at 8am.

I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I am now. And I’m going to go to bed now, before it gets too late. I gotta get my rest (at least some) so I can manage to get up early.

In the meantime, I’m going to bed thankful that Kristen talked me into trying again. If she hadn’t, I’d still be miserably living in my room, wishing I could be as good as them, instead of knowing that I’ve got the potential, and that I will be as good as them, if not better.

So thanks a ton, Kristen. I don’t think I could ever thank you enough.

Sad, I know. Soccer’s my opium. Well, that’s a bit extreme. But when I’m feeling down and when I’m at my lowest point, the only thing that’ll get me back on my feet is soccer.

And I miss it. More so than I can express in words. The last legitimate season I ever played on was my senior year in high school on the varsity team (I don’t count the U19 club season. I wasn’t exactly what you’d called wanted on the team). Co-captain, honorable MAC All-star mentions, and the best season I’ve ever played. SGS had never gone to Sectional Finals before, and it was an honor to have played in the game. At the same time, that moment, those last few seconds in the game, were probably the most heart-breaking. And I knew, after they scored the second goal, that it was all over.

I wasn’t the same for a while after that. Call me a fanatic, but I was insanely depressed after ending my career. But I didn’t want to give it up.

When I came to IC, one of the first things I did was get checked out for competitive play. And then, I tried out for the varsity soccer team. There I made probably one of the biggest, stupidest mistakes I’ve ever made in my entire life. And I still berate myself for it. Maybe instead of playing my favorite position as forward, I should’ve tried out for my best position, defense. What’s horrible is that, every time I’ve played since then, I’ve always played back! And I’m really good at playing back! Why the hell did I only notice this recently?!

I still play, but only on intramural teams. And it’s fun, but it’s not that same. And that desire to play is what’s led me to email Coach Quigg. And it’s leading me to go talk to her about trying out again next year. And it’s leading me to go outside more and move around more in preparation for working out over the summer.

It’s now or never. And at this point, there’s not turning back. I’ll get on that team. Or at the very least, I will try my damnedest.

Check out this article before you do anything else. Read it a million times over.

Now, check out this video. Watch it closely, and as many times as needed to get every single flipping detail in:

For clarifying purposes, the defender who hit Cardinals wide receiver Anquan Boldin from behind is Jets safety Kerry Rhodes. The safety who collided head-on into Boldin is Eric Smith.

Now, you tell me. Exactly which safety should be getting fined; Smith, or Rhodes? Comment on this; it’s gonna be a full-blown discussion. This conversation is hopefully gonna last longer than the more intelligent ones I tried to start. Hell, maybe Derek will actually freakin’ comment this time too. It doesn’t take much brain to see who truly is the one who actually deserves the fine.

I just found out that I didn’t make cuts. And it’s probably because of the EXACT same thing that happened when I tried out back in high school; I did good with EVERYTHING ELSE, and then I served horribly.

I don’t get it. I didn’t feel all that nervous once I got warmed up. And usually I have a really good, consistent serve.

NOT TONIGHT! It was so off I was about ready to kill someone, preferably myself, I felt so retarded, and I had a need to disappear. Better to commit suicide than homicide, because you can’t go to jail if you’re already dead.

Gawd, it ticks me off so freakin’ much. So folks, I officially have NOTHING to do for the year. No track, because I work at games on the weekends, which will OBVIOUSLY conflict with meets. No club soccer, because I didn’t make cuts. No club volleyball, because I didn’t make cuts. Intramurals isn’t competitive enough to actually be any fun.

I’m going to be so depressed by the time winter break comes up.

If you all couldn’t tell, I’m very mad. I’m done writing this post. Bye.

Anyway, this morning I had Kinesiology lab and were were doing Manual Muscle Tests (testing a specific muscle group for strength and to see if there’s any pain, if there’s any at all) and goniometric measurements of the lower extremities (lower body, feet to hips, basically). Anyway, setting aside my minorly sprained ankle (which I may tell you about in a minute), I made a discovery about my knees.

Goniometry is the measurement of angles, basically. In kinesiology’s case, the angles are our joints, thus we’re measuring the range of motion of that joint. When measuring the knee, the start value is our knee extended, straightened, but not fully extended. When we measure the full extension of the knee, we’re measuring how much it hyper-extends. Sooooo, I got my knees’ ranges of motion measured.

When you measure the degree of extension when it comes to the knee, you prop the foot up on something — a sweatshirt, a book, something similar — and allow gravity to pull your knee “backwards” until it locks. My left knee was relatively normal, it’s extension range of motion was 3°, a relatively normal range. My right knee, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

When we propped it on the sweatshirt, it didn’t lock. This meant that it wasn’t fully extended. So, I tried to adjust my foot’s position, but by the time she actually took the measurement, it still wasn’t fully extended. But even with it not being fully extended, the measurement we got was 19°. So, I’m saying that my estimated ROM for my right knee is at least 20°. One of these days, I want to get a more accurate measure.

So, it totally threw me off when I found out my right knee was about 16° more extensible than my left knee. When I thought about it, I figured hey, maybe that’s why I’m having ligament and tendon problems with my right knee, and maybe that’s why I always hyper-extend my left.

So, anyone else have any thoughts to add to this? Any questions you might want to ask? I’ll answer what I can. So be sure to check your comments, because I don’t think I have a plug-in that notifies commenters if/when their comment is replied to.

Oh, before I go, I said I was gonna tell you about my ankle, right? Well, if I didn’t who cares? I’m telling you anyway!

Okay, so, last Friday, some of the female members of the track team met up to play Ultimate Frisbee (I’m not running track this year, unfortunately, so Coach probably hates me…). It was really fun and all.

So the field we were playing on, one of our endzones was actually sloped a little. You can sort of see where this is going. Well, towards the end of our scrimmage, I was on offense cherry picking the end zone. Kris… Kristen (?) threw me the frisbee, and I turned to try and catch it. When I missed, I turned back around and rolled my ankle REALLY bad. I felt a small pop, and it hurt like a BITCH for a while. I walked back over to our end (because we eventually scored), rubbed it a few times, and then shrugged it off and continued playing. While it didn’t hurt all that much (or maybe it did and I was too focused on the game to actually notice) during the game, when I finished eating and went back to my room, it was killing me. Later that night, it was swollen. With the advice of my good friend Steve (yes folks, he’s still very much alive), I propped it up on my desk and the swelling did go down.

I’m checking my ankle right now and… it looks like… there’s no swelling. But occasionally, when I walk, there’s a shooting pain that goes down my talus, and sometimes on the underside of my foot too. It’s not a crippling pain, but it’s noticeable enough to be annoying and slightly painful.

There you have it. Okay, leave comments with theories and questions if you have any. I’ll reply and answer what I can.

My play seemed really good during the scrimmage, and I had a ton of really good shots during the shooting drills, so I have no clue what it is I need to work on. :sigh: I’m gonna email the coach and see.

Maybe I’ll make it next year :rolls eyes:

Things are okay I suppose. There are ups and downs. Like, for example, I’m using the computer in the computer lab, and it’s not because it just so happens to be close to the classroom (though it is). As a matter of fact, I don’t have any internet. In my single, I have a phone jack and two computer jacks. I tried all three in my quest to activate my internet account, but none of them worked. Dad thinks I messed up my cable, but I didn’t do anything to it, and it’s perfectly fine. I think Apogee’s screwing with something (Apogee, btw, is the internet provider here on campus). Dad called them a couple of days ago, and they said they would get in touch with me.

Well, they have YET TO DO THAT!

So Dad’s going to give them a call sometime today and find out what the hell’s going on.

Anyway, other news. I’m still job hunting, but today I’m going to go fill out an application for office assistant. I’m still looking, and hoping, so I can only keep doing that until I actually get a job, because there’s a lot of crap that I need, like, really bad.

Let’s see… this Saturday is club soccer tryouts. Guess what I’m doing this weekend ? And track has a meeting tomorrow. I decided I’m only going to run outdoor, because I hate running indoor (it probably would have been different if I had ran indoor track throughout my high school career instead of just starting to run it my freshman year in college).

Hopefully I make the club team; that would make me really, really happy. I tried giving up soccer last year, and I just couldn’t do it, so I’m not going to

So, I won’t be online as much as I want to, and you won’t be able to find me online playing games, YET. Hopefully, this crap with Apogee with right itself so I can actually use my OWN computer instead of using the ones in the freezer known as a computer lab. Till next time, folks.

Personally, I did okay with the 200, but I did shitty in triple. Don’t even ask for details :shudders: I don’t want to go into that.

My 200 run… dash… anyway, it felt really good. I came out of my blocks really well, and in generally it felt like I did a god job.

I think I know why I have such a hard time making friends. Because I have no idea what to say around people without looking like an idiot. I take a while to think about what I’m going to say, and by the time I’m ready to say it, it would be out of context with the conversation. Nevertheless, I realized that if I want to be friend with someone, I end up not being their friend, and if there’s someone I didn’t really think about being friends with, I end up their friend. So maybe if I convince myself that I don’t have to be someone’s friend, I’ll be able to be a little less tense and self-conscious around them and eventually end up their friend.

Anyway, Friday, as of now, is the day. THE DAY. I really can’t wait. I’m sick of work. Of course, I’ll only have like, a 3 week break before guess what? I go back to school again! Well, at least it’s in Binghamton and not Ithaca. I was planning on going to IC… if it weren’t for the fact that summer class at IC cost at least twice as much as the classes at SUNY Binghamton.

But that’s about it for now. I have work to do… unfortunately. Till next time.

I suppose it was my fault. I didn’t realize the meet this weekend was going to be on Sunday. Until yesterday, I could have sworn it was a Saturday. So I had to let Coach know today that I couldn’t compete because I was in a dance performance.

Well, sorry for not dedicating my life to track.

Anyway, she feels that track is more important than this dance performance, even though I have to be in it. And that wasn’t even the only thing.

She freakin’ scratched me from the 100 today because I “didn’t warm up enough.”

Okay. Back in high school, I never warmed up for anything. And I get injured more here than I did back on the high school track team. And when I do warm up, it only takes me around 15-20 minutes, and since I ran in a relay previous to what was supposed to be my dash, I was already warm, so I didn’t need more than 10 minutes. Sorry Coach; you may have needed an hour, but I don’t need more than 20 minutes to warm up.

So, this is the outcome of this glorious fucking day; she’s pissed at me; she said “I was so excited about your 200 time that I was gonna take you to Penn Relays, but now I need to think about it… I need to figure our your future on the team.”

So, because I didn’t warm up because I didn’t need to, and because I have a life outside of track, I’m possibly gonna get booted off of the team? The one message that came to me throughout the whole thing was that she thinks I’m not committed enough to the team. That pisses me off more than anything in the world. What the hell is that supposed to mean?! I’ve been to as many practices as I could go to, I’ve been to every meet I was supposed to compete in. I’ve trained and tried to figure out a way to get faster, I’ve been injured and haven’t said anything about it so I could continue to do what she wanted me to do. Like, for instance, my back is painfully out. It’s been out for a few days. I still ran and jumped. Plus I jumped even after my knees started to hurt. How is that NOT committed?

Whatever. I’ll come back next fall whether she fucking likes it or not.

This is so fucking ironic; I finally get serious about something, only to get that thing possibly taken away from me.

And people wondered why I’ve always been so afraid to take a risk and get serious about something and strive to achieve a goal; because I FAIL in the end, no matter what I do.