By Anna Schultheis
The Focus
Midland HS
1st Place
Division 2, News Writing
Sports Columnist
“Sweat and Chlorine”
It’s 10:10 a.m., late like always, by the time Julia Quinn’s white Ford Explorer rolls into the deserted Dow High parking lot. The sun blazes with an intense orange light as it peeks above the horizon.
We both sit swearing and growling at the thought of walking through the steamy gates of Hell to the pool. The grumbling continues all the way to the door, where the pool’s filters are purring and 30 girls are complaining about that day’s set. This is a typical weekday morning in the summer for many high school girl swimmers at Midland High.
Girls Swim at Midland High is often hidden in the shadow of our legendary Football Team (except this past year) and our exceptional Volleyball team (girls in spandex = student section). We usually never have more than thirty people in the stands during our meets, and 98% of them are parents who feel obligated to go and watch their kid swim.
Many people, when I tell them I’m on the girls swim team, either haven’t heard of it or ask: “So what do you guys, like, do?” Ignorance about the sport has often left a lot up to the imagination and it is time to clarify some misconceptions.
If you tell a hormonal high school boy you are on the swim team, their minds automatically think Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition. Hair flowing, next to
nothing on, splashing in crystal blue water.
So, to clear up this common delusion about us wearing itsy, bitsy, teeny, weeny, yellow, polka-dot bikinis, I’m going to tell you that a one-piece bathing suit is required.
Swim is not a glamorous sport. You either have no make-up or the remnants of black mascara streaming down your face from the night before. All of your hair is perched in a snarly bun on top of your head and pushed into a silicone swim cap. At the end of practice, after you’ve dried off, your body reeks of chlorine and burns because you lack so much moisture. If that’s not bad enough, goggle lines make you look like you got punched in both eyes. You must often question whether your hair is wet from pool water or sweat.
Now, I’m not ragging on other sports and saying swim is superior, because I believe each sport takes a different set of skills and abilities. But maybe the next time you hear of a swim meet, you will attend.
Or maybe the next time a girl tells you she is on the swim team, you’ll think twice before streaming an episode of Baywatch through your head.
Maybe, instead, you’ll think of 33 powerful girls getting up at the crack of dawn, jumping in an icy pool, and swimming their hearts out.
“Self-Diagnosed Sports Fanatic”
I remember that cold Friday night in late October. My breath hung in the air a couple seconds before it disappeared. The stadium lights shone brightly on each defeated Midland High player’s face and the student section stood silent. All the shakers had been cast aside, and the last of the baby powder settled in the scalps of the students. I remember the blue and gold paint on my cheeks began to drip as tears silently slid down my face. The scoreboard flashed the red numbers: 35 (DOW) and 17 (MIDLAND).
This crushing defeat caused my to cry, about football. A sport I don’t even know how to play and that I don’t even know the rules of. I sobbed over a game that in the future would have no effect on my life whatsoever. Looking back on the night, this sudden attack of emotion shocks me. Throughout my high school career, I have been plagued with a vast array of emotions, each varying in size and intensity. Yet each of these bizarre episodes seem to be triggered because of a loss of a game.
For example, when we lost the varsity hockey game last season against Dow High, I went on a cussing rampage, muttering every vulgar word I could think of under my
breath. I even flipped off an innocent Dow High student when leaving the arena parking lot.
After our loss to the Dow basketball team, I was so angry that I could barely open my mouth to speak. I sped home, teeth clenched, blaring Drake and Jay-Z as loud as my car would go and went straight to bed, trying to forget the heartbreaking events of that night’s game.
These random spurts of emotion caused me to question my well-being and mental health. I find I’m not usually the type of person to cry at funerals or weddings. I hardly ever shed a tear when the main character in a movie dies tragically. I don’t often get enraged very easily and usually try to make light of hostile situations. So how could a losing a game, which I didn’t play in at all, affect my emotions so much?
After multiple outbursts and Web MD searches, I have finally come to the conclusion that I am a full-blown sports fanatic. Compared to a typical sports fan, a sports fanatic is someone who is obsessive and displays an unbalanced behavior about a sport. According to research, that would be me. From the articles I’ve read, the reason why we as fans become so invested in the sports we are watching is because the sport becomes a part of us. The brain translates the success the team achieves into personal success. The same goes for the team’s failure, we feel the team’s devastation.
Sports also offer a sense of belonging for fans and an escape from the life’s daily responsibilities. They allow people to feel a deep, emotional connection to something that has no real-world consequences. The emotions that we feel after our favorite team wins, boost our self-esteem, and give us immense pride. Sports are an outlet to blow off steam and are something that people can
pour their heart and soul into.
So, if you are showing symptoms of extreme sports fandom, and your friends and family are starting to become concerned, just know there are other people out there like you, who understand your dedication to the sports you love. Realize that it’s natural for one to become so invested in a game. Meanwhile, I am trying to cope with my craziness and channel my inner fanatic into something positive, instead of screaming at the referees and visiting teams for making us lose.