E Town
06-14-2007, 07:12 PM
It all happens so fast, doesn’t it?
Take a good look around the high schools. On the fields, inside the gymnasiums, at the pool. What were once places teeming with activity, bustling with various sports, are now images of ghost towns. Of course, it means only one thing: The 2006-07 prep season is over.
Local high school athletes have already taken part in graduation ceremonies, and many of them will never play competitive sports again. For most student-athletes, however, it’s not about the college scholarship, Central Coast Section titles or all-league recognition. It’s about being a part of something bigger.
Something special. As hokey as it may sound, the majority of kids who play sports want to be a part of a team. Sure, it’s nice to win individual championships or be a part of a title-winning squad. Great in fact. That’s why we play the games, right? But lost in the bottom line of this results-oriented society is the journey.
Having driven solo across the country on a couple of occasions, I truly know how enjoyable the journey is. Never mind the daily 12-hour drives, the heat and exhaustion, or the pain that comes on your backside from being stationary in a car for half a day.
It’s all worth it because in the end, you can appreciate life and take satisfaction in the small details we all tend to overlook in our daily activities. When it comes to sports, it’s about the friendships you build. The sweat. The tears. The ecstasy and the agony. One minute, pain and suffering, the next, overwhelming joy and elation.
The bus rides. Oh, the bus rides. How many stories can one tell through a season of good ol’ bus rides? And how about the postgame treats? For the graduating seniors on the Sequoia and Burlingame High baseball teams, they’re going to dearly miss the delicious, warm, chewy, brownies and chocolate chip cookies after every game.
Mmmm, mouth-watering brownies and cookies. The journey is what it’s all about, because only a couple of teams end the season with a victory.
For most, there’s the inevitable final loss and the soggy eyes that come with the completion of years of effort.
A year later
Speaking of journeys, at this time last year I was in Omaha, Neb., with the San Mateo American Legion Post 82 Orioles baseball team.
While I truly enjoyed my time in the Midwest, who could forget the initial motel — and I use the word motel loosely in this case — accommodations? Some of the players’ parents were horrified with the grungy conditions, describing the seedy conditions like a crime scene.
“Horror house, Satanville and the land of the (crystal) meth lab” were just some of the more colorful phrases used to describe this motel, which made a Motel 6 look like the Taj Mahal.
A more refreshing scene
Anytime there’s a Triple Crown horse race on the tube — like last week’s Belmont Stakes — it makes me nostalgic for the exhilarating times I had while attending some races six years ago at Keeneland Race Track in Lexington, Ky., perhaps the most picturesque place in all of America. Once you place a bet, you can feel the anticipation and euphoria wafting in the air.
And forgive me please, but I’ve got to say this about the Southern Belles who graced the grounds with their sundresses and big hats.
Oh.
My.
God.
The five stitches under my chin? Happened when my chin dropped.
Take a good look around the high schools. On the fields, inside the gymnasiums, at the pool. What were once places teeming with activity, bustling with various sports, are now images of ghost towns. Of course, it means only one thing: The 2006-07 prep season is over.
Local high school athletes have already taken part in graduation ceremonies, and many of them will never play competitive sports again. For most student-athletes, however, it’s not about the college scholarship, Central Coast Section titles or all-league recognition. It’s about being a part of something bigger.
Something special. As hokey as it may sound, the majority of kids who play sports want to be a part of a team. Sure, it’s nice to win individual championships or be a part of a title-winning squad. Great in fact. That’s why we play the games, right? But lost in the bottom line of this results-oriented society is the journey.
Having driven solo across the country on a couple of occasions, I truly know how enjoyable the journey is. Never mind the daily 12-hour drives, the heat and exhaustion, or the pain that comes on your backside from being stationary in a car for half a day.
It’s all worth it because in the end, you can appreciate life and take satisfaction in the small details we all tend to overlook in our daily activities. When it comes to sports, it’s about the friendships you build. The sweat. The tears. The ecstasy and the agony. One minute, pain and suffering, the next, overwhelming joy and elation.
The bus rides. Oh, the bus rides. How many stories can one tell through a season of good ol’ bus rides? And how about the postgame treats? For the graduating seniors on the Sequoia and Burlingame High baseball teams, they’re going to dearly miss the delicious, warm, chewy, brownies and chocolate chip cookies after every game.
Mmmm, mouth-watering brownies and cookies. The journey is what it’s all about, because only a couple of teams end the season with a victory.
For most, there’s the inevitable final loss and the soggy eyes that come with the completion of years of effort.
A year later
Speaking of journeys, at this time last year I was in Omaha, Neb., with the San Mateo American Legion Post 82 Orioles baseball team.
While I truly enjoyed my time in the Midwest, who could forget the initial motel — and I use the word motel loosely in this case — accommodations? Some of the players’ parents were horrified with the grungy conditions, describing the seedy conditions like a crime scene.
“Horror house, Satanville and the land of the (crystal) meth lab” were just some of the more colorful phrases used to describe this motel, which made a Motel 6 look like the Taj Mahal.
A more refreshing scene
Anytime there’s a Triple Crown horse race on the tube — like last week’s Belmont Stakes — it makes me nostalgic for the exhilarating times I had while attending some races six years ago at Keeneland Race Track in Lexington, Ky., perhaps the most picturesque place in all of America. Once you place a bet, you can feel the anticipation and euphoria wafting in the air.
And forgive me please, but I’ve got to say this about the Southern Belles who graced the grounds with their sundresses and big hats.
Oh.
My.
God.
The five stitches under my chin? Happened when my chin dropped.