Unfortunately, I lacked the athleticism to play football at even the college level so I figured to just try it out in high school. My academics were far more important so it took me until senior year to finally play football. My high school football team was not very good because honestly, anybody would have been able to just walk-on and play on the team. However, being on the team required a major time commitment since practices were Monday-Friday from 3-8 pm. Occasionally, there would be practices on Saturday if the coach found it necessary.
Looking back on it, it was one of the worst decisions I made. The first few weeks I had to contend with both schoolwork and football, and the two did not go hand-in-hand. The five-hour long practices were brutal and drained me so much that I was unable to finish my homework on most nights. I would always dread practice as if I was going into battle, knowing that I would not come back in one piece.
Back then, I was a lanky dude and I still kind of am now. I was tall (6'1") but I weighed a mere 160 lbs. What I lacked in bulk and strength I made up for in speed so I assigned as a defensive back (DB), switching between the safety and cornerback positions. My job was to cover the other team's wide receivers who were equally nimble on their feet.
So when the coach decided to practice blocking, I was somehow paired with an offensive lineman who was easily twice my weight especially with full pads on. For once, I was scared for my life because this guy could have easily pulverized me if he wanted. He didn't even have to try as he shoved me down to the ground. Time seemed to have slowed as the back of my helmet slammed into the grass, staining it with fresh dirt. My entire world spiraled out of control as I heard the coach screaming at me to get back up on my feet.
It took a few seconds but I recovered and got back on my feet, only to have the lineman deck me, sending me crashing down harder. This time, I was unable to get up. Infuriated, the coach came up to me, grabbed my facemask and spat into it, "Stop being a little girl and man up for once!"
I thought coaches were supposed to motivate their players to do better because that "word of encouragement" stung. It hurts so much that I can sometimes feel a burn every time someone just screams the phrase "man up". What the hell is that even supposed to mean? So basically if I don't give it my best, that makes me a little girl? Indeed, at that very moment, I felt my manhood evaporate as the coach lampooned me for not trying hard enough like a real man. Physically, I felt inferior to all my teammates. I did not even feel like a boy anymore. I lacked the balls to push back and defend myself. Never in my life had I ever felt so vulnerable.
After practice, I seriously considered quitting the team. Quitting had always been an option even during the first week of practices. Balancing academics with football was difficult and the latter was obviously more expendable. Still I stubbornly aspired to be a manly football player. But after this incident, I came to the realization that football was something I could watch but never play. Physically and mentally, I was broken. I could not take it anymore. My pride, my dignity, even my manhood seemed to be stripped away by the sport.
And so the following day, I turned in my pads and officially quit the football team. In the end, I walked out a bigger, better man.
My little brother has been told to "MAN UP!" by my father more times than I can count on two hands. It's ridiculous. It was nice to read your post and know I guess that someone else out there dealt with that same problem. I'll have to relay this story to my brother!
ReplyDeleteI think you did a very mature thing by quitting the team; although it doesn't sound mature to "quit" something, you definitely did grow as a person by standing up to your coach and showing him that you weren't going to take his abuse. I've dealt with being called "MEG" from family guy, a character who is un-feminine, ugly, and the most dis-liked member of the family. I can't walk out on my family, however I do know what it feels like to be attacked when you're weak.
I like your story alot! It was kind of similar to mine in many ways. I think it's interesting how we both reacted by quitting when in reality the reaction they probably wanted us to have was to get better. I think it might have something to do with the idea that they are attacking your character and basically your perception of yourself which results in a loss of confidence and a re-evaluation of what you are doing and who you are.
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