Butterflies filled my stomach and my palms started sweating. This was the moment I had been waiting for since third grade. “I must be next… right?” I thought to myself. I looked down at my outfit: tacky dress shirt, obligatory tie, creased khakis, and boat shoes. I put in the work, I dressed the part—there’s only one piece missing. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is our Hillsborough High School varsity lacrosse team,” announced the coach. Cheers and applause poured out from the crowd, but it left me choking back tears, distraught. All those Sunday afternoons on the field, those carved-out study breaks, it all felt squandered. I pondered how this could have happened. To make matters worse, I watched as two of my friends, who were also freshmen,
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It was an honor to receive the letter. It was, however, strange to watch my coach handing out varsity letters like candy. There was nothing to do but laugh--at myself, at this sport, at this night in which we ritually discover which of us is worthy and which of us is not. All that I could do was sit back and accept reality in all its unfair realness. Life had sucker-punched me in the gut once again. Don’t get me wrong; I was mad. I went home and, rather than celebrating my own achievement, I felt hypnotized, stuck. Then, I let it go. No longer would I let that thought plague my mind. It wasn’t easy or immediate, but it was easier and more immediate than the last time I had that feeling. This whole “life-isn’t-fair” experience changed my perspective. I’m much better at managing stress and not letting small setbacks weigh on me. Nowadays, I often refrain from using the words “that’s not fair.” Instead, I try to accept that life is not, and never will be, fair. I apply what I learned from the lacrosse banquet to everything, whether it’s studying, sports, or whatever life throws at me. As I reminisce, I’m nearly laughing at how I learned such a valuable lesson over the letter
It was an honor to receive the letter. It was, however, strange to watch my coach handing out varsity letters like candy. There was nothing to do but laugh--at myself, at this sport, at this night in which we ritually discover which of us is worthy and which of us is not. All that I could do was sit back and accept reality in all its unfair realness. Life had sucker-punched me in the gut once again. Don’t get me wrong; I was mad. I went home and, rather than celebrating my own achievement, I felt hypnotized, stuck. Then, I let it go. No longer would I let that thought plague my mind. It wasn’t easy or immediate, but it was easier and more immediate than the last time I had that feeling. This whole “life-isn’t-fair” experience changed my perspective. I’m much better at managing stress and not letting small setbacks weigh on me. Nowadays, I often refrain from using the words “that’s not fair.” Instead, I try to accept that life is not, and never will be, fair. I apply what I learned from the lacrosse banquet to everything, whether it’s studying, sports, or whatever life throws at me. As I reminisce, I’m nearly laughing at how I learned such a valuable lesson over the letter