How sports affect me
“Strike
Three, yourrrrrrrr out!” “GOOOALLLLL!” “AI-YAH!” If you’re a sports aficionado
you should now what these are. The sting of a third strike in an important
game, the glory of the game-winning goal, the smash of a perfectly executed
round house kick. To do any of these means hard work, dedication, discipline
and heart. When I started sports I’ve tried to carve these principals into my
day-to-day life.
When I was about
six I started baseball, for Mt. Airy in Philadelphia. Obviously it didn’t
matter if you were skilled or not it was solely to have fun and make new
friends. It was easy too. No one cared if you could throw the ball from second
to first. Or stop a slow grounder. If you had peanut butter and jelly for lunch
you had friends.
I remember my
first game; it was my birthday and didn’t really feel like being there. Armed
with a stiff plastic glove, and narrow a blue Warrior metal bat I started to
feel a little more at home. 9th to bat, after the all the kids who
could make a pop fly catch, I grasped the thin electric taped handle of my bat,
and walked into the batters box. We had gone over what side you go to at
practice a few times, I didn’t remember the first time. I tapped the bat to the
plate, aimed at the ball sitting atop the tee and swung. I was never sure if I
actually made contact with the ball or the hard plastic tee. But I saw the ball
on the ground and I ran. I was going to make it to first base. I tripped and my
arms fell forward. I wrapped my arms around the bag. “SAFE,” yelled the umpire.
I was hooked. I knew, from then on baseball was a part of me, an idea that has
the ability to make anyone feel safe and befriended. I was now part of the
gigantic body of baseball fans that are now my semi-distant family.
“Ai-yah.” Most
people would think is just a random yelp or something you’d hear down in the
subway howled by the local crazy person. But I will explain how it is more then
that.
The word “Ai-yah,”
or Kia comes from all types of karate, martial arts, and self-defense. It is
used in attempt to scare the opponent when yelled in part with an attack. Some
teachers enforce this tradition ritualistically, occasionally punishing the
student for failing to yell louder. These simple words can easily affect the
outcome of ones life.
I still remember
getting my black belt and always try to cherish that moment. I was 13 and had
been studying karate for 5 years. My teacher Sensei Mike had been gruelingly
training me for a while and it was finally the black belt extravaganza. This
event is where, after the initial test where you perform techniques and katas
is preformed, you receive your black belt.
We were all lined
up, my brother and I. At the front line of the karate mat, we were waiting for
our belts. The instructor announces our name and we freeze. This moment would
change our lives forever. A heavy man, Sensei Mike dented the mat with every
step towards me. Carrying our black belts sewed with golden lettering, inside a
thin plastic bag. He told us to take off our old belts, and lay them on the
floor. I was reluctant to do so, after being told the years before to never let
my belt touch the ground. He gently smacked the belt into my hand. I undressed
the belt from the plastic covering and began to tie it. It took me a little
long to finish the knot but I defiantly didn’t care. I had gotten my black
belt. For me it meant authority, the power to tell people right from wrong, and
lead them in the right direction towards success and responsibility. It meant
more then just a differently colored belt. It shows who I am and what I had to
work for to achieve this title.
Soccer has been
around for a long time and through the ages, the people who play it are almost
always attached for life. Maybe it’s the fun or the friendship but for me it
will always be the glory.
I love that
feeling of a great kick. Perfectly connecting with the bounciest part of the
soccer ball. The crowd, or the few parents, hushes as the ball sails across the
field into the net. The goalie gets up dusts themselves off and, in defeat,
walks back to the sidelines. I strive for this feeling, an injection of pure
glory.
I started playing
soccer when I was about seven, my mom asked me if I wanted to be on my best
friends team, the Revolution. Of course I said yes, this was going to be so
fun. My friend’s dad was the coach, and he started me at defense. Trying hard
to not let the other team get past usually went in vain. At practice we would
constantly go over how to pass the ball, kick it far, or juke it by someone.
Although, we never went over how to defend against someone else skillfully
dribbling the ball around us. I really needed to learn how to play better. I
bet a few years would help.
Now I was ten and
joined my school team. Again I started for defense but this time I knew what I
was doing. Almost every time an offender came down the field I stole the ball
and passed it back up the sideline. I love to make new friends, achieve the
glory of a goal and express my self through sports.
When you absorb
these principles into your life you accept a new way of thinking. It’s hard to
stray away from these binding rules. Also now I know that almost everyone who
learns a sport to learn and have a new outlook on how they live their life, are
changed forever for the better.
Now I am 15 I bat
fourth in my baseball lineup, start forward for soccer, and am going for my 1st
degree black belt in October. I have gone a long way since I began doing
sports. After all the years I have been changed physically and my outlook on
the world. Now I feel everything is achievable with only a solid good effort, an
effort that shows what I am capable of and what really makes me, me.
