For the Love of the Game: Feature Story

Ever since I was a little girl, the scraping of the blades across the ice and the cool breeze hitting my rose tinted cheeks, have always been an escape for me. No matter what curve ball life has thrown at me, or big decision I’m making, grabbing my skates and heading down to the ice rink across the street from my home, is always the perfect cure. The half flips, lunges, spirals and spins are things that come without effort, sort of like breathing, and as I glide around that rink, the world and its worries seem to melt away. The ice doesn’t judge, it just listens and has no choice but to accept me for exactly who I am. How does this happen? Why do you love it so much? Those are the questions I’ve been trying to answer for a majority of my life.

Triple back handspring, double back walk over, and cartwheel into splits. Her naturally highlighted blond hair falls in wisps across her light pink cheeks, having escaped from the floppy pony tail on the top of her head. Her breathing slowly returning to normal, she folds into a sitting position and, looking up, anxiously asks “How did I do?!” I tell her the truth; “That was amazing Mads!” Her lips fold into a repressed smile, knowing she got my validation, “You’re just saying that because you’re my sister” I shake my head and without hesitation give a quick and firm “Nope!” That answer couldn’t ring more true. Maddie is an eight year old firecracker. From soccer in the summer and fall, to ice skating in the winter and gymnastics, now, year round she is constantly on the move. Although she has talent in the other two sports, it was always evident that she had a raw and natural passion for gymnastics. When her mom signed her up for classes last year Maddie was “just excited to learn how to do more stuff!” and when asked if she was at all nervous she shrugs and says simply “nope, not at all!” Flash forward a little over a year and, at the rate she is excelling, impressing her teachers and really, anyone who watches her, you’d see that this little girl truthfully didn’t ever have any worries about her performance. When asked how she feels when she is performing and practicing she pauses and you can almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tries to come up with the best emotion. “Well I’m happy, happy that I can be really super good at something!” Ever since she started last year, Maddie has been eat, sleep, gymnastics repeat. Turning our living room into a gym, and the couch cushions into a landing pit of sorts. Being her big sister I could never imagine her life without gymnastics, “If I didn’t have gymnastics I would be sad, it’s where I learn new things and meet new friends, and when no one can play, I can always do gymnastics!”

“Since Kindergarten” she answers. For the past 12 years Dannie Erickson has avidly played and fallen in love with the game of soccer. Having been my best friend for the past five years I’ve experienced, first hand her obvious passion for the game, not only on the field but off it as well. A couple years back Dannie experience a knee injury that could’ve taken her out for the rest of her season, and if it didn’t improve, maybe longer. I remember being at a complete loss for words when she broke down crying at that possibility. Now she says “I would die if I couldn’t play anymore because it’s my steady; it’s the consistent thing in my life.” Presently in her senior year in high school, she has made a complete recovery from the injury and got right back into playing soccer full time. In meeting her, it wouldn’t take long to realize that her personality totally fits that of a person with a heart to play soccer. Determination and strength define Dannie, both are also traits needed to achieve success in soccer. Her passion for the sport is fueled by the way she feels whenever she plays, “it [playing soccer] makes me work hard and challenges me to get better as I grow older.” This is when you know that you’re a true “natural” at something, when, not only, are you good for the sport, in terms of being a successful player, but the sport is also good for you.

It’s a perfect 70 degree day; the greens of the grass and the shimmer in the pond on the Westfield golf course are sights that can not be ignored. The fairways are full and people of all ages are scattered about, including my 83 year old grandpa. Barky is out on that par 35 at least once every week, walking course with his clubs slung over his shoulder and his worn out baseball cap from back when he played in the minor leagues set secure on his head. He has been swinging on that same course since his mid twenties and from as far back as I can remember I’ve never seen him grow tired of it. Golf, after all, is a mental game, that tries your patience and, many would argue, is quite difficult at times. When asked why he hasn’t stopped playing he answers “its just fun, hanging out with the guys, keeping me moving, but at this point, it’s not like I’m going out to improve!” he says jokingly.
As a little girl I remember going out to Westfield to the driving range and being so incredibly frustrated that I couldn’t hit it as far or as straight as my grandpa could. One specific event that I’ll always remember took place on one of these outings with grandpa. My little brother and I tagged along with him to go practice for awhile and no matter how hard I tired I couldn’t get the ball to go very far, sometimes even missing the ball entirely. After what seemed like the millionth whiff I plopped down on the turf, crossed my arms across my chest and pouted, throwing my own little temper tantrum right in the middle of other golfer’s practice swings. My grandpa slipped the club he was using back into the bag and walked over to me. Standing at 6 foot 1, he towered over my balled up, petit 4’4 frame. Looking up, he held out his hand to help me up, and I realized I didn’t have any other option but to comply. I grumbled as I got to my feet, and he pulled out one of my clubs. For the next half an hour he stood behind me helping me swing and standing off to the side watching my stance. Almost immediately I noticed an improvement in my shots, and by the time the buckets were empty I didn’t want to go. Thinking back, it was in that lesson that I got to experience my grandpa’s passion for the game of golf, and perhaps that was also where the seed that blossomed into my passion for the game was planted.

Unlacing my skates for possibly the last time this winter season as the temperature crawls higher and the ice begins to melt, I believe I can answer the question that’s remained unexplained to me for quite some time. Passion for any sport or hobby isn’t an “acquired taste” its something you seem to be born with, that lasts a lifetime. It is not discriminate towards age or gender, size or IQ scores. Passion is a blessing, an amazing gift given to everyone, and whether or not you’ve unwrapped yours yet, it’s there, and it’s up to you to discover what it is, and what you’ll do with it.