Childhood Stories from a Female Athlete
When I was seven years old, I played roller hockey. I was the only girl on a team full of boys from my town. I loved the sport. This kid, who I’ll call Thomas, was a natural player. Everything came easy for him. He could skate, stick handle, and had good vision on the ice. We were ages 7 and 8. At that age, I was the same size, if not bigger than most of my teammates. I was naturally talented as well. I could skate, stick handle and had great vision on the ice. I was quiet and shy. While the boys weren’t mean, I knew I wasn’t really welcome. They weren’t sure how to deal with having a girl in the boy’s club, especially at that age. Every movie on ABC Family or Disney or Nickelodeon had the same theme: No girls allowed! Or vice versa. So, real life was awkward. But I kept my head down, smiled, and blended into the shadows in between drills at practice. I just wanted the team to feel like they could be themselves even with a girl on the team. They really were very nice. I just put this extra pressure on myself due to some sensitive intuition.
One day we were at an elementary school practicing without skates on. I don’t really remember the practice. What I remember was the cool down. We were all following our coach as he walked us through stretches. Thomas was happy. He’d had a good practice where the team seemed to support his leadership and skill set. I was happy because the attention was on him, and it was as if I was not even there. Perfect. He was even gloating because the coach just commented on his flexibility. He’s good at everything.
Then, we get to a stretch I can do with ease. Literally didn’t even need to exert any effort. Unfortunately, Thomas did. He’s all smiles until he sees me, casually sitting there while he struggles to touch his foot with his hand.
“Hey!” Thomas shouts. “That’s not fair! She doesn’t even have to try!”
For a moment, I start gloating at my natural talent in an attempt to thwart my anxiety as the team turned their eyes on me. I thought, “Thomas is too kind a soul to be serious. Everything comes easy to him. Surely, this is a joke.”
No. Incorrect.
“Coach, she should have to do it with two hands. That’s not fair! Look! She’s not even stretching.”
My smiles fades as I realize Thomas is serious. I bend down lower into the stretch with a shocked but amused smirk hoping we can move on from this stretch soon. Thomas looks very frustrated. Is he tired or something? Low on blood sugar, perhaps?
Then coach walks behind me.
“Britt, you have to do it with two hands.”
My heart sinks. He cannot be serious.
I obey as my cheeks redden.
I can’t touch my toes with my other hand. Thomas smiles again.
“See? Now we’re even.”
And that was my first lesson in the male ego. When it’s challenged, they bitch until they even the playing field. I, on the other hand, was faced with adversity and caved without a thought of defending myself. It’s easier than fighting a room full of men. And it’s a team sport. The team needs their leader feeling confident. Right? Yes.
One notch on the self-sabotage belt for me. Age 7.
Love Yourself
– Britt