No one is invincible. · 4:16am Oct 5th, 2013
So, I’ve had a bad day, to say the least. I’m not gonna bore your with the beginning, I woke up, showered, school, blah-blah-blah. Fast forward to about 7:30 PM. Kickoff, of the Varsity game of my high school, against a different team in our conference. The team is horrible. We’ve never lost to them, and have never scored less than 45 points against them. The rumor on the street was that the 3rd string Varsity (me), might get in. My smile widened, and my mood improved, until I started joking around with a fellow 3rd string lineman, even laughing at a point. I’m usually so serious during a game, this was definitely a first. The whistle blew, for the end of the second half, or halftime. We walked over to the secondary field, and took a knee, listening to the coach. My good mood improved, as the coach said that he’d try to work in the 3rd string lineman. I found the starting lineman in my position, and we talked all throughout the rest of halftime, about the plays, what to do in them, and who to get. I actually felt confident, for the first time in my life, that I knew what I was supposed to do. After two more touchdowns, the coach announced that he was going to put in the 3rd string. I smiled, and made my way to the front. He chose the right guard and tackle, center, and left tackle. All that was left was me. I waited for him to call my name. He looked at me, and then turned his head.
“Nowad!”
My eyes widened. ‘That’s not my name…’ I thought to myself, but then I shook it off. I guess it made sense, he was more experienced than me… Luckily for me, Nowad had to play Defense instead, so he couldn’t play line. I regained my smile, and waited for him to call my name. I could live with being a close se-
“Capprioti!”
My brow furrowed, and I looked around. Did he know I was here? He had to, he was looking straight at me. I shook it off, my pride a bit damaged, as I heard he was injured. I guess that made sense, too, he was older. But, at least I was gonna get called. Right? There wasn’t anyone else to go i-
“Burr!”
‘Something’s wrong’. I desperately thought. Burr was 5’8, 160 pounds. He was the opposite of what a left guard is supposed to be. Nevertheless, no other names were called, and soon, Burr was put into the huddle, along with every other 3rd string player. Every one, but me. God, that sounds so insignificant, but it hurt me. A hell of a lot more than it should have. I worked my ass off in practice for this moment. I went as hard as I could, in any drill, scrimmage, even picking up the bags after practice. I hated being that kid that always tried too hard, but I needed to show coach that I was ready. I wrote down and studied the plays beforehand. But none of it mattered, I guess. The friction burns on my knees, the horrible bone bruise in my forearm, the countless bloody knuckles, I guess I just wasn’t good enough. I tried to swallow that, and watched the plays, fighting back rage. I figured out what the defensive lineman were doing, and how to perfectly counteract it. My horrid mood somewhat improved, as the coach said he’d start rotating everyone who hasn’t gotten in yet, into the play. I checked the clock. 5 minutes left in the game. I snorted. Well, at couple plays was better than none at all. Time passed, and people went in, some people came out. I grew worried again, and checked the clock. 2 minutes, 4th and 10. They lined up to punt, and did. We got the ball on the 35 yard line. I walked over to coach, expecting him to put me in. The entire feeling-bad-for-myself thing completely went away. I was seething with rage, at anyone, at anything. I was ready to level someone. There’s no way the coach couldn’t see that in my face, as he turned to survey the crowd behind him. His last glance was at me, before he turned. My face turned white with shock. He couldn’t… He had to put me in… Right?
1:30 left in the game.
I took a step back.
1 minute left in the game.
He… Why?
45 seconds in the game.
Why is he doing this? I tried my best!
30 seconds.
He told us, if we tried our best, we could play!
15 seconds.
I’m not even a bad player! Hell, I've played games that were definitely Varsity-level!
10 seconds.
I could feel the raging anger in me quickly freeze into ice-cold pain.
5 seconds. The players begin to walk off the field.
My head drops, as I hear the buzzer, indicating the end of the game. A sharp pain hits me in my right chest, as if someone has stabbed me with an icicle. The pain radiates throughout my body, and I realize now what it is. It’s what happens when your will to fight dies.
I lower my head, and I walk to the endzone. I make my way through the coaches speech. I bite back the pain, and the sadness welling up in me. I almost make it to the bus, when my friend’s older brother comes up to me, with a slap on the back, and a grin on his face.
“Hey! How’d you do in the game, man?” He asks, completely oblivious.
I almost draw blood from how hard I bite on my lip, to keep from crying. “I, ah, I didn’t get in.”
He leans his head towards mine. “Ah, what?”
I repeat my sentence.
His smile fades for a half second. “Oh. Sucks.” He turns, and goes to talk with one of the starters.
I make it onto the bus, ignoring any attempts by my fellow linemen to join in the conversation. I make it back to school, dress out, and get into the car, where I’m greeted by my mom, and sister. They ask me a couple questions, which I respond to, with moderate politeness. After a lull in the conversation, my mom asks an almost final question.
“So, it really sucks that no third stringers went in, right?”
I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath before responding, my voice cracking with emotion. “Every single third stringer went in. Except for me.” I add at the end, a bit of the hate coming back into my voice.
He made a weird sound in her throat, before I was barraged by a dozen questions from the rest of my family, which I manage to ward off, for long enough.
As soon as the car stops, I almost sprint inside, rip off my clothes, run upstairs, and turn on my shower. I let out a strangled gasp, before the tears fell.
Do you know how hard it is to hold tears in, as soon as you begin to cry? How bad it hurts, how many emotions that fight for control, as you grit your teeth, trying to keep yourself from showing weakness?
You have to be a strong, resilient person, with a hell of a lot of mental fortitude to stop something like that.
And I’ll tell you something, that I learned about myself today.
I’m not.
You see, this is what I don't understand...
Crying is not a sign of weakness... crying shows that you were hurt in any way shape or form...
Being human only makes that worse, you see, because anything can hurt us, even from the simplest things...
But that doesn't make you weak... crying shows that you are human. Crying shows that you have a heart, and you have the capacity to be hurt...
It is a completely natural part of life...
Now, what I don't understand is why people beat themselves up because they cry.
Beating yourself up only makes you hurt worse...
You are your own worst critic, my friend. Telling yourself that you are weak is gonna hurt more than anyone else telling you those words: Your friends, your family... anyone...
This coach of yours is an ass. If he told you he was going to put you in the game, he should have put you in the game. And because he didn't, it is HIS fault, not yours... it's his fault for not being a man of his word, and it's his fault for not giving you a chance...
But, I digress...
It's good to let out your emotions... your body needs to be relieved of the pain once in a while...
There is always the next game...
1395395
It's not about me being weak. It's really something about me that I can barely explain myself. This is one of the two examples in my life that I've tried 100% on something, gave it my all, and fell short. This isn't about Superman getting in touch with his emotions, it's about him finding his kryptonite, and realizing that he's not perfect.
Regardless, I can't thank you enough for the well-thought-out, and timely response you gave this.
1395465 Of course, my friend...
However, I felt like I was just jabbering a bit...
1395469
You can never have too many words of support.
1395473 True dat~
1395395 I mostly agree with this, and i mean no offense it's just my opinion and how I was raised.
You've hit a breaking point, nobody likes to be forgotten. Because I don't know this couch I have to give him the benefit of the doubt and say I honestly think it was a mistake and he forgot. If this is the first time this has happened (I understand how had the first time can hurt) don't let it get you too down. The first time I was frogotten that I can remember was on Christmas day at my aunts. The kids were to open presents from oldest to youngest ( there was a total of 5 of us kids counting me, I was the oldest) so we started, first my 2 cousins get theirs, then my sister who's 4 years younger then me, then my third cousin and they start over again.
That's right, I've been forgotten about by my own family. I've been left behind, I've missed family reunions, my grandmothers funeral, my cousins weddings, the birth of my nephew, but enough about me.
Be careful with that way of thinking. I'm 27, and I grew up thinking crying was a weakness. Because of this I depleted a behavioral disorder, this leaves me with issues when it comes to emotions. It's rare that I have a honest smile, or a true laugh
. (I sound more messed up then I thought) I say talk to your coach and see what happened, keep a level head about it, and if you need someone to talk to look me up.
1395505
Believe it or not, I am right there with you my friend... Growing up, I had a father who treated me like shit every single day... pretty much acting like I wasn't part of the family... I was excluded from a lot of things, too many to count, really... and it really was hard...
I say what I said because it's pretty much the opposite of what I do... I bottle my emotions like no tomorrow... and I would hate to see someone sink down into that kind of funk... it's hard to get out of...
1395512
I've been working for ten years to get out of it myself. I've lost rl friends because of it which has set me back a few times. It's nice to know that I'm not alone but at the same time I rather be alone in this so nobody else has to go through it
. Why can't these things just work themselves out so I can go back to writing silly things?
1395522 God, dude, I know how you feel... there is a quote I like to live by:
This quote is so true in so many ways...
1395735
Nah, you're entirely right. I was pretty whiny, but that's just because it was a heat of the moment-thing. I really just wrote that because I felt as thought I needed to. It's like I told my other friend, who read this: This was definately over-dramatic. I wrote it because I needed to get my emotions out of my head, or I'm gonna go insane. To be entirely honest, I added in the crying part because I feel like some people could relate to it, and because it added to the heat of the moment. Regardless, I'm fine now. I'm just pissed that 100% obviously isn't enough, and I don't know how to how to give any more.
1398312
Yeah, haha.
I feel you, though for me, I'm the guy who gives a hug to a sad friend, makes a joke to cheer others up, even if I look stupid in the process, I believe that is my purpose among my group of friends...
1496365
Hah.
That was me. Well, in the timeline of this post, that is me. That was the me that wrote this.
1512881 If I see a friend crying, I hug them, even if they don't want one, I do...I'm annoying, but I still defend my friends with every ounce of strength and courage I have in me. I fought for a friend once, and got suspended...asshole was bullying Tori, Tori's my best friend.