October 10, 2011
Jump on Board, America
We aren’t used to crowds. We have a small following of faithfuls that includes our friends, families, and a few field hockey aficionados. Otherwise, America doesn’t know much about our sport. Unless of course you happen to live in a small Pennsylvania Dutch town, or in one of those isolated pockets of American territory, like my hometown of Berlin, New Jersey where field hockey made a niche for itself.
Field Hockey. Imagine a major sport mash-up: combine the eye-hand coordination skill-sets of other stick sports like Ice Hockey, Cricket, Baseball and Lacrosse with the tactical elements of soccer, add a marshmellowman-like goalkeeper between the metal posts, and you ought to have a blurry image of our game.
We wear skirts. Our legs are usually decorated with patterns of black, blue, and red. The turf is cruel. When we dive and tumble, it rips our hides raw. Yet, we dive and tumble anyway. The ball is even crueler – it is plastic, roughly the size of a baseball, inscribed with 356 small dimples and it moves up to 75mph during the course of a game.
As defenders, our duty is to put our bodies in the line of that nasty little bugger. When we get hit, our coach comforts us with his astounding logic: if you get hit, you are in the right spot. We don’t like to show weakness, so when we get knocked real hard with the ball, through pain-fomented grins, we yell AMERICA. It reminds us who we play for, and why the pain is worth it.
Look at anyone of us, and you are bound to find an awful looking mark with some gruesome story – broken noses, split eye-brows and chins, lost teeth – the scarring reminders of sacrifice for sport.
We are America’s Field Hockey Team. A group of passionate, competitive, fun-loving and determined women who don’t play for the big bucks, the crowds, or the glorious guarantee of victory. We play for that ever-old yet ever powerful cliché ‘for the love of the game.’
A formidable challenge lies ahead of us: the quest for Olympic Qualification. A first place finish in the upcoming 8 team Pan American Games from October 19 – 28 in Guadaljara, Mexico will secure us one of the 12 bids to the 2012 London Olympics.
We have never won the Pan American Games. In the six competitions held since 1987, Argentina, our South American nemesis, has claimed six golds while we have taken five silvers, and one bronze. We are ranked #13 in the world, Argentina #1.
The disparity seems daunting. Compare each team’s respective histories and you will be inclined to think it is a no-contest. Impossible, you may say.
Luckily, we don’t descend from that breed of pragmatist. We don’t base our decision to pursue victory on some preconceived notion of what is ‘supposed to be.’ Because, luckily, we are Americans, descended from people who hopped on a boat, worked their bums off, and made a better life for themselves. A nation of rebels.
So we aren't focused on history. We are focused on right now, on doing what we can with what we have. We train hard - on the field, in the weight-room, with the Navy Seals. We attend to the details of optimized performance - nutrition, hydration, sleep. Most of all, we enjoy every moment of the process, enthused and strengthened by the unity of team. We know this journey won't last forever, so we take each moment as it comes, seizing each opportunity as it presents itself.
We depart on Thursday from our home base in Chula Vista excited about the challenge that awaits us.
Because if all the games we have played, and all the knocks we have taken, have taught us one thing, it is that there are no guarantees in sport. All we can do is work our bums off, put our trust in each other and how we train, and go out there and give our damn best.
So in the spirit of America, jump on board. This is field hockey, baby.
October 13, 2011
Departure Days
On your mark, get set. . . .Wait…Longer… Longer. Just a little…longer.
Ok. Now. GO.
Praise the Pan American gods because we don’t have to keep holding our breathes like patient athletes in waiting. Departure day is upon us.
We woke early, packed the vans, and hit the road for a double destination trip. First, Houston for a night to be kitted out by the USOC in proper Team USA apparel, some dapper Nike kicks, a couple tops, a mean throwback zip up hoodie, and of course, the requisite kakis and navy polo.
Then, Guadalajara, Mexico.
Excitement was high. Even the ungodly early morning hour couldn’t tame our giddy chatter. We were like a bunch of kids on Christmas morning. Adele played on the radio. We sang. Loud. We got stuck in Southern California traffic. Adele played again. We sang. Even louder.
Jersey girl Michelle ‘Shelby’ Cesan, one of the Princeton quartet who took the year off from school to pursue ‘the dream,’ swaggishly informed us of Adele’s intention – “she wants to get back at her ex-man; she’s saying ‘hey baby, look what you’re missing now.’” The rowdy van cackled up a storm.
It was only after we claimed our section in the back of the plane that we politely settled down. Some read, some ‘Scrambled’ (the new team iPhone word game competition), some watched movies, while the rest, pardon the redundancy, rested.
We landed in Houston and immediately, went into work mode, doing what we do best (besides hockey of course) - unloading and loading our unreasonably large amount of ‘stuff.’ I swear post hockey-career, we have a future in the moving (unfortunately, not movie) industry. Our motivation for the effort was simple: food. The quicker we packed, the quicker we could appease the growing growl in our bellies.
On the busride, we momentarily morphed that growl to laughter when teammate Jesse Gey, who was called up to replace the injured Kayla Bashore Smedley last week, read excerpts from Ellen Degenes’ new book, “Seriously, I’m Kidding.”
We grabbed grub, went through processing, posed for our Pan Am portrait then finally shacked up in our rooms for a comfy night in the Houston Hilton, where all nestled and snug in our beds, dreams of field hockey fairies and Mexican Gold danced in our head.
On Friday, we awoke, early yet giddy again, and, clad head to toe in American Navy Blue and with our Team USA compatriots from the Men’s Field Hockey side (yes, we have a Men’s team), we headed south of the border. Destination, Guadaljara, Mexico. Journey, the 2011 Pan American Games.
October 15
Lights, Camera, Fiesta: Pan Am Opening Ceremonies
The only thing traditional about Friday night’s Pan Am opening ceremonies were the marching outfits of the Mexican athletes – tight pants belted with buckled leather, a decorated necktie, and orange boots capped impeccably with a gorgeous beige suede sombrero. The rest of the night was anything but traditional.
Mexican President, Felipe Calderon, and his entourage of Suburbans stream-rolled past the patiently waiting parade of athletes around 7:30pm. The show would begin promptly at 8pm at Omni-Life Stadium.
A crowd of about 50,000 amassed to celebrate the opening of the games, and when the clock struck 8, the soft Mexican night sky imploded with color and cheer.
My heart-beat quickened: this is Mexican revelry, I thought.
It was a rave-like fiesta – flashing, blinding lights in red, yellow, green, purple, and blue, flying dancers in silver space suits a la Britney Spears in the ‘Oops I did it again’ video, techno dance vibrations, and a Latin American singing sensation (from whom one athlete delegation had to be pulled off of).
We entered the stadium to a techno-infused version of Love Shack (at least it sounded that way to me). Rower Jason Reede, who we had mingled with during the long wait to march, led the USA with an emotionally elated grin plastered on his face. Melissa Gonzalez, our team beat-boxer and dancer extraordinaire, ripped up the rug with the enthusiastic Pan Am volunteers.
We took our seats. The crowd tensed with excitement as the Mexican delegation lined the entrance tunnel. Members of TeamUSA stood on their chairs, cameras held high, to catch a glimpse of their hosts. “Mexico,” the MC announced. The place erupted. It shook with so much pride and passion my skin tingled. My eyes opened to a different Mexico than I had known before – a proud, kind, welcoming Mexico who waved their sombreros high above their heads with jubilant cheer in their eyes. I didn’t see this Mexico through the typical American media lens of border control, labor, and drugs. This Mexico I saw through the lens of sport proudly welcoming 42 Pan American nations and over 6,000 athletes to compete on their soil for unity and peace.
And on Friday, this Mexico gave a fiesta unlike any celebration I have ever seen before. Words can’t do it justice. Hopefully, pictures will. Even the 6am wake-up for training on Saturday morning couldn’t taint the experience of Mexican revelry.
Finally, let the games begin.
October 24
It’s Monday morning, and finally, with pool play concluded and a spot in the semi-finals versus Canada on Wednesday secured, we have earned a day off from Hockey – a day to indulge ourselves in all things Pan America – the village pool, a Team USA water polo match, and perhaps an evening serenade by the village mariachi men. But before I indulge in such freedoms, I must recount the travail of the past few days.
Saturday was our 8th day in the Pan American Village. Paige Selenski had finished two books, and started her third; Michelle Cesan had watched two seasons of the Tudors; Katie O’donnel had perfected her pictionary skills with countless hours of competitive drawing contests; Caroline Nichols had compiled a 30 page cookbook from Cooking Light recipes. And I had twiddled my thumbs 4,808 times.
In total, the team had completed 4 puzzles, ate 26 meals at the dining hall, tapped off approximately 146 bowls of oatmeal squares and 4 giant size jars of peanut butter. But the only number that mattered is 3 – the number of ‘W’s’ in the win column, including Friday’s 2-1 victory over Chile, and Sunday’s 9-0 thrashing of Cuba.
Friday’s match with Chile wasn’t pretty, but we were hard-nosed and found a way to secure the ‘W’ over a solid determined opponent. A win is a win. Winning matters.
Yet, despite the excitement of the win, the team mood, particularly that of Katelyn Falgowski and myself, was quite subdued on Saturday. Perhaps, it was the anticipation of Sunday, and the yearning to share what would be a special day for both us with our families who couldn’t make the trip to Mexico, that weighed on us.
Sunday was a big day. In Chapel Hill, North Carolina my sister, Meghan Dawson walked across Navy Field arm in arm with her two little sisters, Melanie and Hannah Dawson, to celebrate her Senior Day. All three would take the field for the showdown between UNC and Michigan, Meghan and Melanie in Carolina Blue, Hannah in Michigan Blue.
Meanwhile in Mexico, I walked on the field for my 150th Cap for Team USA with longtime friend and teammate Katelyn Falgowski, a North Carolina Senior (and Meghan’s best friend) who was missing her celebratory day to compete for her country. Not only was it #23’s senior day at UNC, October 23 was her 23rd birthday. Her parents would walk across Navy Field in her honor. And cheering them on in Chapel Hill were my parents, Dave and Karen Dawson, who had made a rule when the first of their 8 children went to college – seniors take precedent – the trip to Mexico wasn’t even an afterthought.
Luckily, family comes in all shapes and forms, and our Team USA family filled the void of those who were unable to make the trek to Guadalajara. Showering us with good food, cake, laughs, hugs, and the best gift of all, a 9-0 dub over Cuba.
Now, one step closer to fulfilling our mission, and all the hoopla of the weekend expired, I hope you will permit me the freedom to indulge in the peace of a day away from the field, and the computer screen.
October 28
Today is the Pan American field hockey final. The predicted match-up between the infamous Argentines and us, the ever-resilient Americans, slated for 5:30pm in Guadalajara. Silver has no value in this tournament - only gold buys Olympic Qualification.
I wish I had something profound and captivating to write. Perhaps you would enjoy a poofy segment on the thrill of victory over Canada in the semi-final, or a propaganda-like piece on the certainty of American dominance in overcoming the historic prowess of the Argentines.
Unfortunately, I cannot give you either. I am channeling less Candance Bushnell / Rosie the Rivetor, and more Albert Camut today. We are expected to be where we are – the region’s #1 versus #2.
We are excited, yet relaxed. We understand our situation. We understand ourselves - where we have come from, where we are at, where we intend to go, and what we have to do to get there. Likewise, we understand our opponent – who they are and what makes them thrive.
I can however, contrary to what I have said before, make two guarantees. First, the game will go one of two ways - we will win, or we will lose. Secondly, we will focus on executing our roles. We focus on the task and what the moment demands of us. We will fight.
Either that will be enough, or it won’t be. There are no ‘supposed to be’s’ in sport. There is only the game, and the execution of the task.
Tonight, we will know where we stand – atop the dias or not.
October 31, 2011
October 31, 2011
We won. They say we stunned them. They say we made history. I guess we did.
I guess it is only fitting that girl who usually has words for everything is speechless. The reality of our victory has lodged itself in my voice box. I am a stuttering shamble of joy. There are no words for that game. No masterpieces to be written.
Our masterpiece was written on that field in Guadalajara, Mexico Friday night. It was carved from the focus of our eyes, the determination of our step, and the resilience of our focus.
Inspired by the chants of “USA” that overcame the overwhelming ‘boos’ of the Argentine-infused Mexican crowd, we proudly delivered an exceptional piece of disciplined teamwork.
Had we thought of outcomes, and the implication of those outcomes, the seeds of expectancy or doubt may have lodged themselves into our minds and immobilized our efforts. So, we made a brave choice early in our preparation to control the wanderings of our mind.
It was difficult. Early in the game a United States favored score-line tempted us with the thought of winning. Yet we clung to the powerful lessons learned through hours of tortuous mediation with the USOC’s man of mindfulness, sports Pyscologist Peter Habrl, to control the proverbial ‘monkey mind’ and focus on the now.
Goalkeeper Jackie Kinzter professes the simplicity of this everyday faith: “In the late minutes of the second-half, as Argentina made its push to win with a series of penalty corners, Peter was in my ear, the whole time. I focused on my role, being balanced, seeing the ball…”
Ultimately, the win came down to this sensory experience of faith. We did not relinquish absolute control - instead we accepted control of the details, invested our focus in our role, and trusted that if we did that, the outcome would take care of itself.
And on Friday night, it did. Finally.
We stood atop the dais, wore Gold medals around our necks, embraced one another with teary-eyed smiles, and listened to our National Anthem vibrate through the stands.
It was only when we returned to the locker room that it hit me -we are going to London.
Elated and relieved, I contented myself with the idea that we still have a lot of work to do.
I just sent this to my team. Awesome.
ReplyDelete