In school I was a no non-sense girl when it came to sports. The evolution was amazing because I started out as a shy little girl to a fearless warrior. When the game started the goal was to win. I attended the same school from Kindergarten to Grade 12 and was always the 3rd tallest in my class behind Luke and Tim. When they hit a growth spurt I wasn't far behind. I was very thin and was often teased with the usual nicknames like "Stretch", "Bean Pole", "Baby Giraffe"... you name it I was probably called it. People even called me things like "Pipes" because when I flexed as hard as I could my tiny bicep would pop up or "Wings" because my arms looked like they were touching my knees when I was standing up straight. When I stretched them out to the sides they seemed never ending. I refused to be the tall girl that slouched because I was proud of my height. I barely had any muscle definition I was just lean and mean! I would get teased all the time about how big my feet were, how gangly or uncoordinated I looked but the point was I didn't care! The more people teased me the more relentless, determined and aggressive I became when the game was on. I learned early to channel that anger and let it out when it was most productive... on the battle field! Soon the teasing stopped.
My classmates would line up against the gym wall to make the teams. The usual cast of characters would get picked early on: Tim, Luke, Dusty, Jordan, Jerett and me. All of the other girls would get picked last except my best friend Tamara who was the prettiest girl in the class and always seemed to have someone crushing on her. I loved getting picked before the other boys! It was like being a girl was an oversight and if I could contribute then I could play. The feeling of being respected for my contribution to the team, instead of being the eye candy, definitely built my confidence. (Tamara was sporty too so she wasn’t just eye candy)
I have to admit that sometimes it was hard fitting in with the girls because when my team lost in gym class I took it hard. You would too if you loved gym as much as I did. I would count down the days for the next battle. When I was in a funk the other girls would just go on to their cutesy drawings and tell me things like “who cares”, “it’s just a game”, or “you can win next time”. I wanted to win every time! Didn’t they know that?!? Playing sports with the boys every recess would have been ideal but I knew that sometimes I would have to do skipping and hang with the girls to have friends. Plus I wasn’t a complete “tom-boy” . Sure I liked to play sports but I also was a bit of a fashionista with my accessories. I wore a lot of pink and was very particular about my 80’s neon fashion rocking the side ponytail, slouch socks and bike shots with lace.
When I hit junior high I was on all the teams: volleyball, track and field, badminton but not basketball. During try-outs the unthinkable happened. I was cut from the team by the teacher everyone called Mr. Zamboni behind his back. He was the teacher that drew the short straw and HAD to coach the Junior Girls Team. I was so hurt! How could he do that? It took the wind right out of my sails and I was contemplating not playing sports forever. My Sister Mandy was not having it. She hated to see me defeated and was determined to make me as strong as possible. She told me about how Michael Jordan was cut from the varsity team and to use that pain as fuel to prove everyone wrong and that I should do the same with Mr. Zamboni.
She used to call me outside and would throw the ball at me until I would catch it. It didn’t matter if I was ready for it or not she was throwing it. If I was running away from her she would throw it. If I would go in the house she would come after me and throw it. If I hid or ignored her she would find me and throw it. Her methods were questionable but over time she wore me down, by imprinting my entire body with basketball bruises, and we got to work.
She started out easy using the hoop on our garage to teach me layups, dribbling, shooting and her very effective form of passing. The driveway was quite the slope so you went from shooting a 10 foot layup, an 11 foot outside shot and a 12 foot three. So, most of our shooting practice took place at the nearest playground that was often referred to as Bosch’s. After school and in the summer we spent hours playing and practicing. She taught me all the things she had learned and although a lot of our sessions would end in fights we both refused to give up on each other. The next year I made the junior high team and ended up being one of the best players on our squad. When she heard one of my teammates bragging about how many points she scored my sister piped up and said “you’d have a lot more assists if you would pass the ball and maybe you would have actually won the game!” She has never had a problem with speaking her mind. We continued to work on my game as she learned new things.
By grade 9 I hit another growth spurt and had improved tremendously. I made the Senior Varsity Team... it was the same team she was on and to top it off we played the same position. She was in grade 11 and what she lacked in height she made up in heart. She was the best rebounder and post player on our team. I was taller than her at that point and the battle was on! I respected her so much and wanted to be like her. Not only was she tough and tenacious but she could trash talk like nobody I had ever met. She probably taught Gary Payton what to say! Sometimes I would get so fired up because she knew the exact buttons to push for me to lose my temper. For those years I think we were barely sisters because we just were so used to battling each other as teammates. Soon I was used to playing mad and my teammates knew it. During a rebound they might take turns hitting me to make me play better and give an extra boost to the team.
I wanted to gain Mandy’s respect so I kept getting better and playing hard. I never knew how much she cared about me because we were both too proud to show it. When my parents got divorced she took a part time job at a restaurant to make sure that we both had money to play sports. She wouldn’t give me an inch of room for error and I wouldn’t show her that I cared what she thought. In a small town it is easy to get trapped in the easy life so she set a very high standard of achievement and was like my second Mom when it came to reinforcing her plans.
I learned all the concepts of being a good teammate from her. If she hit me in practice it wasn’t personal it was to make me better. If I got knocked down she was the first one there to pick me up. She did her part to make sure I did my best and wouldn’t give up on me. She pushed me to make me stronger and picked me up when I was down. She stuck up for me when I needed support and battled me to make me better. I went on to play in many practices, games and tournaments long after we were teammates. I never forgot the passion, drive and desire she had. For me the motivation never changed when I looked at my coaches I saw her face I wanted them to be proud. When I looked at my teammates I saw her face because I wanted to beat them and make them better. When I looked at my opponents I saw her face and wanted to destroy them by doing my best.
She planted the seeds that helped me achieve many of the goals I have reached. My Sister - The Ultimate Teammate.
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