I Was the Only Girl, but I Was Determined to Make the Golf Team
I began golfing in the past five years. I went out for the high school team and made it on the varsity co-ed team. I was the only girl, but I was determined to make it.
The first day of practice was interesting. All my fellow teammates treated me as an outcast – even the coach. This was the coaches first year of coaching varsity golf and had no idea what to do with a female on the team. When coaching a sport you need to be able to help a team member when they are having difficulty with the sport. For golf, this includes touching the person to insure they are swinging the club properly. Being that the coach was male, and I am female he would never help me
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My eyes swelled up with tears because I was prepared to compete. He had just ruined all that I was training for. I assumed it was because I was the youngest player on the team. But, if you want to win, you start your best players. As more matches came and went, I still never got the opportunity to be a starter in a match. And my anger toward the coach grew. I despised him as a thief despises the police.
My first year on the team was mentally draining. The only time I ever started was during the last match of the season. I was so excited when my coach told me I would be starting. I remember the thoughts going through my head, I made sure my stance was perfect, my backswing was perfect, but my follow through was not great. As I swung the club back, I could feel the shaking in my hands. This caused my club to shake which eventually made me loose my balance. The ball went at a fourty-five degree angle to the right – the wrong direction of which it should have gone. My first drive was a horrible shot. I was so nervous in front of everyone. This was my chance to prove how good I was and I just had the worst shot of my life. I could see the look of disappointment in my coach’s face, and it reflected in mine. After that first shot, it could only get better – and it did. I did end up losing the match, but I only lost by one stroke. I was disappointed in myself for loosing, but I was also full of excitement because I did finally start and I only lost by one
In high school, I was involved in volleyball, basketball, and softball. Throughout my whole venture, I had this one coach who followed me through every sport. Her name was Coach Lolly Arevalo. She was five feet tall, dark skinned, big green eyes, and a little muscular body, she had a masculine voice that terrified all the athletes every time she scolded us. “Do not stop till I blow this whistle,” those words motivated each and every one of us not to stop. The very first game I had my freshmen year in volleyball was a big, extraordinary moment in my life. When we walked into the gym that night to warm up before the other team arrived, butterflies began to flourish in my stomach as the excitement began to kick in. The bleachers were filled with people wearing red and white shirts, friends holding fan signs with your name, and family members who wanted to see you play the game you love. The excitement I was developing become even more known when the other team arrived. The girls looked as though they wanted to smash your face
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