April 10th, 2015
Prompt: Life isn’t always predictable.
Wings
I fell in love with it early.
With my tiny mitted hands in his huge ones, gliding backwards, my dad dragged me and my heavy skates across the frozen pond. I wanted to go faster. I stared at my feet, willing them with all the energy in my little body to propel me further. In my three years of existence, I had never before stepped on the ice, but as my parents like to tell me now, I was a quick learner.
Call it a natural affinity for the sport, but I was flying on my own and shaking off my father’s gentle guidance before we even left that night. I fell along the way, of course, but I didn’t cry. Instead, before anyone had even placed a stick in my hands, standing under the dazzling lights in the city centre, I decided I wanted to be a hockey player.
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I’ve been clutch since I was ten years old. Offers came regularly from throughout the province, wanting me to play for them in week-long tournaments that I would dominate in,
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I’m tired. Tired of waiting, tired of losing.
The pads are like chainmail, burdenous and suffocating, and the stick in my hands weighs as if it's been cursed to be unliftable until we've proven ourselves worthy - except we've got nothing to don armour for, and we will never be worthy. The logo on my chest does little more than remind me of everyone who's counting on us. Everyone I'm letting down.
I play because I love the game. I love playing, I do, I love the team, and it’s what I tell myself every day. You don’t manage to get to the big leagues without living and breathing and bleeding the sport your entire life, and I’ve done that. But there are losing streaks, and it’s been too long now. The smothering pain of the losses, I’m all too familiar with - the way it aches and lingers in your bones, in your head, a persistent gnawing weighing you down. It’s never going to go away, and I’m
Success is not given, it is earned. Waking up for a 5am skating practice is nobody’s ideal Wednesday morning, especially for a hormonal teenager like myself. However, satisfaction of landing a new jump or learning a new spin does not come from letting our ‘wants’ buyout our dreams. “By the time we’d finished, we were amazed at how much the book had taught us: about ourselves.” I don’t always succeed, nor do I always expect to. Throughout all the morning practices and late night workouts, failure is something I have learned from. I remember giving up on myself countless times after falling on a jump or not turning my edges properly, as if I had ‘writer's-block,’ feeling completely numb. Nevertheless, succeeding was the easy part, it was learning to grow into the 6 year old singing, confident, child again, and defeating the numbness. I have learned, along the way, people are going to try to undercut your success or take credit for your hard work. However, it is the end product that matters. It will be I who knows how to complete a program, or I who knows how to work hard. Staying focused as the athlete I am, not letting people side track me, builds the confidence to know ‘I finished the
On the way to the arena, I loaded on top of my red and green armour, bulky plastic shin pads and a chunky rubber mouth guard to protect myself from potential battle wounds. My knees still scarred red from the battle against Botany
guys on the team after this big let down. It also made me decide to quit
It is common for those experiencing grief to deny the death altogether. Many people do this by avoiding situations and places that remind them of the deceased (Leming & Dickinson, 2016). However, by simply avoiding the topic of death and pain, the mourner only achieves temporary relief while in turn creating more permanent lasting agony (Rich, 2005). In this stage, mourners will begin to feel the full weight of the circumstance. Whether the death of a loved one was sudden or long-term, survivors will feel a full range of emotions, such as sadness, guilt, anger, frustration, hopelessness, or grief. While many of these emotions can cause serious suffering, it is important for the survivor to feel whatever emotions come up and deal with those feelings, rather than trying to suppress any
A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings, an allegory by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, brings to attention the idea of the psychological process of dehumanizing. Throughout the years, certain races, homeless individuals, autistic individuals, women, homosexuals, and certain religions such as Jews and Muslims have all been examples of dehumanizing. The old man in Marquez’s story also faces this psychological process of dehumanizing. “Dehumanization is the psychological process of demonizing the enemy, making them seem less than human and hence not worthy of humane treatment. This can lead to increased violence, human rights violations, war crimes, and genocide”(Maiese). Marquez emphasizes the point that just because someone
As more of my teammates began to show up, I recognized most of them. However, I learned later that if I went on to play in the Spring, this would not be the same exact team I would play with. With only twenty minutes until we began,I put on all of my gear and my dad gave me a thorough warm up. Time seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, everyone was gathered together as positions were being assigned. I was originally overwhelmed with excitement, but as the game drew closer, the joy I had felt was replaced with anxiety. The lacrosse game taking place before ours ended and we entered and took our place on our bench. I recognized the opposing team’s jerseys quickly and identified them as a travel team from our area. Taking one final breath, I rushed into the lacrosse net enjoying my bird’s eye view, unsure of what was to
I have been playing ice hockey since I was seven years old. By age ten, I knew I loved being a hockey goalie more than anything else. I dedicated my time to achieve my goal of playing at the highest level possible. Over the years, I worked extremely hard to learn my position. I took private lessons,
I also decided to keep playing, as many people do quit, and I kept trying harder in Baseball, and instead of giving up; to push past that and to keep getting farther in the Sport. It changed what I do after school, it made me also think about what I like to do in my spare time, to what I should do in my spare time. Now, I do baseball whenever in my spare time, which helps me reach my overall goal in playing the sport. It used to be for fun, but now I am trying to go farther than just having fun in the sport. I have had to do many things to get where I am, but I do not want to be finished yet, I want to keep going throughout my life and keep succeeding. “Baseball is a good thing. Always was, always will be.” – Stephen
Terrence and Jordin Tootoo grew up in Rankin Inlet, Nunavut, in Canada’s arctic region. They were like other Inuit children in Rankin Inlet in many respects: They were brought up to respect the customs of their people and they enjoyed the resources the land around them provided- they learned to hunt and fish for food like the others. However, the brothers were also different from their peers in one main respect- they were blessed with a love for the game of hockey, and also with extraordinary amounts of talent which would enable them to leave their native community to pursue the dream of professional hockey. While the brothers were growing up they were inseparable; however, after leaving Rankin Inlet to pursue the professional game their respective careers took strikingly different paths. Jordin’s journey took him to the top- he was drafted into the National Hockey League and signed a lucrative contract with the Nashville Predators. However, Terrence’s road to the professional ranks was filled with hardship and tragedy, ultimately resulting in his suicide in August of 2002. The contrasting paths taken by the brothers is an illustration of how professional sporting careers can have varying impacts on the lives of Native American and Canadian athletes and their communities. In the following few paragraphs I will outline the history of Native Americans and Canadians in sports. I will examine how successful Native athletes are able to help their communities, both financially and by serving as role models for younger Natives. Also, I will argue that their still exist barriers and challenges to Native athletes that do not confront other athletes. For example, Native athletes are often placed under increased scrutiny because of their positions as role models. I will conclude by commenting on how Native athletes fit into pro sports today, and speculate on what can be done to increase the amount of success enjoyed by Natives.
This is Sidney Patrick Crosby and this is his story. It all started when Sidney’s father, Troy, who played major junior hockey as a goalie, gave him a little hockey stick at the age of two! Sidney played around with the stick and practiced daily in the basement of their house. Although he was just two years old he already started to love playing with the little stick, a tennis ball, and the family dryer. A year later when Sidney Crosby was just three years old he put on his first pair of skates and took to the ice. He than began playing for a hockey club and was the only child at age three who already had learned the “basics of stick handling.” Sidney immediately became recognized for his exceptional skills.
Youth Hockey Growth in the United States is the main focus of this research. The sport of hockey has been around for nearly 200 years. The game was produced from a form of stick and ball games started by immigrants. These immigrants were British soldiers who brought their type of hockey to Canada. Paintings from the 1830’s depict the sport of ice-hockey taking off in Canada.(Garth, Vaughan) As the sport grew so did the age groups in which it was played. Many sports start their growth from the elders down to the youth. The same can be said for ice-hockey. Many gentlemen started to play the sport as a way to pass the time. This is when the children began to take a liking to the sport. Fathers began to teach their children the fundamentals and from there, the rest is history.
William Faulkner brings all aspects of the game to life by going beyond the game itself, and immersing the readers into the intricate details that are often overlooked by most spectators. While spectators and televised sports commentators focus on the literal game itself, the points and teams, Faulkner describes the “kaleidoscopic whirl” of motion, the grace of the players and the designs they carve into the ice. He goes beyond the typical description of skates and hockey sticks, depicting them as “knife blades of skates” and “deft sticks which could break bones.” Faulkner, through this fluid and detail oriented writing, portrays the game of hockey in a way most people fail to see.
All of my life, until I was eighteen years old, I didn’t understand the concept of grieving. Grief just hasn’t been something I’ve ever had to experience before. Because of my lack of experience I had no understanding of what grieving felt like. All of his changed for me on July 29th.
As I entered the building which housed the rink, the warm, nostalgic scent of popcorn hit that part of my brain where dusty, cobwebbed memories live, memories of my own adolescence. I made my way past a group of exuberant teenagers at the snack bar until I reached the skating rink. Skinny, hard benches, made for small butts, lined one wall. I took a seat and scanned the rink. My eyes paused to read a sign; white, block letters on a black background warned, "Skate at Your Own Risk."
...idered a "clutch" player, one to do well in high pressure situations, so when I don't succeed, or hold up to ones expectations as well as everyone thought I would, it is disappointing.