Being Cut

Suck it up, please.

He arrived 10 minutes before his fate, so Filip Olsson stood outside Severna Park High School and waited for coaches to post the cut list for the boys' soccer team.

Olsson, a sophomore, wanted desperately to make the junior varsity, but he also wanted justification for a long list of sacrifices. His family had rearranged a trip to Sweden so he could participate in a preparatory soccer camp; he'd crawled out of bed at 5:30 a.m. for two weeks of camp and tryouts and forced down Raisin Bran; he'd sweated off five pounds and pulled his hamstring.

Finally, a coach walked by holding a list, and Olsson followed him into the high school. He walked back out two minutes later, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his eyes locked on the ground.

"It felt," he said later, "like a punch in the stomach."

{...}Because of increased complaints from parents, many high school coaches now strive to make cuts more scientific. Until she retired last season, longtime Eleanor Roosevelt girls' soccer coach Kathy Lacey made her players run 1.5 miles in less than 12 minutes to make the team. Mike Bossom, the volleyball coach at Centennial, scores players with a number -- 1 through 5 -- for each drill and then logs the scores on a Microsoft Excel spreadsheet.

For the first time this season, Severna Park Athletic Director Wayne Mook required his coaches to record running times and player evaluation grades, then hand in that paperwork to him. It is an arduous process that many coaches find tiresome, but Mook instituted it for a reason: After a player was cut from the girls' lacrosse team last spring, the family hired lawyers to meet with the school.

"In this day and age, you have to cover yourself a little bit," Mook said. "When I meet with a parent whose kid has been cut, I need something to show them. I need proof."

{...}While his mom, Annica, waited in the car, Olsson walked out to the school track to find Keough and Malm for his 10 minutes. They told him to work on his speed and his foot skills. They suggested he try a personal trainer.

"They think some one-on-one work would help me, so I'll do it," Olsson said. "I'm probably going to come out again next year. Getting cut hurts pretty bad, but that's what it takes. There's nothing harder than making your high school team."

{my emphasis}

Far be it from me to state the obvious, but---ahem---it's a freakin' high school soccer team. There are plenty of things that are harder than making your high school soccer team. Nuclear fission would be just one of those things, ya dig. Same with balancing the budget. Or, if we're still limiting the discussion to all things high school, well, perhaps getting a decent grade in Chemistry class might be harder than getting on the soccer team.

Oy.

I can understand about working toward a goal. This kid wants to play soccer. That's not a problem. But there comes a time when you have to realize it's simply not going to happen. I admire his perserverance, but I would think after trying out twice, and failing both times, hiring a personal trainer---for a sixteen-year-old!---so he can get on the JV squad is beyond the pale. Give up the ghost, kid. If it hasn't happened by now, it's not going to---particularly when you try out next year, you're going to be competing for a spot against fourteen-year-olds with fresher legs than yours? Do you really want a pity spot on the team? One they handed you because they felt sorry for you? Do you really want to warm the bench the whole time?

Soccer is physically demanding. Anyone can tell you that, and considering I spent a goodly portion of my time growing up attending my brother Mike's grade school, high school and college games, I can tell you from experience that it's cutthroat throughout the entire process, but is particularly nasty in high school---and this was twenty years ago! My brother's school was the Nebraska state champion, year in and year out. It took a lot to make that team, not only because soccer is a demanding sport, but because the coach had high standards. There was absolutely no shame in failing to get on the team. I can't tell you how many of my brother's friends over the years went from playing with him to stopping by to say "hello" to my mom, my sister and I while we sat in the stands at one of his games. We didn't look at them as any less a human being because they'd been cut. No one did. It was all about the team being as good as it could be, and even they understood that their presence might have hampered that.

This kid wants to get on the team. I can understand that. But, as far as I can tell, it hasn't occurred to him what his presence, if he were allowed on, would do for or to the team. It's a personal thing for him, not one where he wants to play on the school's team to help them win games. That, to me, is a pretty significant shift in attitude.

I think this kid would be well-served to go and find an indoor soccer league team he could play on. He'd actually be playing and having fun, instead of subjecting himself to torture over and over again. I also suspect he might learn a little something about being part of a team as well.

Posted by Kathy at August 22, 2005 01:31 PM | TrackBack