each night i shuffle through all the moments that stood out during the day. normally the process is a brief momentary transition between waking & sleep, but lately my mind races long after my eyes close. somehow, the past three days have been both a routine & a surprise. i spent monday buying streamers & balloons in orange & navy blue. i threw a pasta party for my team complete w/ homemade pesto & a framed collage of team pictures. they loved it & made me play the never-have-i-ever game w/ them resulting in conversations about when casual sex is okay (next to never), if you're ever too young to be in love (no) & how many people on the team had seen a therapist (close to 75 percent). when they left i did the dishes, overwhelmed by how those 3 hours in my living room were filled with more honest relating that the past 5 years of college have been. there's something about being 16 that i still relate to, the hesitant outpourings of stories and opinions that practically scream "someone, anyone, say they understand what i'm saying." maybe theres just some part of me that never got enough of the "me too" & now i just want to be the one to say it to every one of them so they know adolescence isn't something exclusive, that we've all been there, we all make it through. today one of my players came to practice in the clothes she wore to school. she had had a rough day & needed someone to talk to. i listened to her speak with my eyes darting around the stadium to make sure everyone else was actually doing the drills, but i wished it could've been okay for me to turn & look at only her, tell her it will be alright.

her friends call her scrawny; she's the kind of girl that most of her grade is probably afraid of, pretty & powerful but completely plagued by personal demons - ones i understand all too well. there's so much you grow out of, and equally as much that you never really do. i was watching oprah tuesday morning at the gym & terri hatcher was on, talking about her book burnt toast. she said something about how every woman has a lifelong journey of learning how to treat herself better. it's so true and it's something i still need to learn how to do. sure i get enough sleep, eat the ideal ratios of protein to complex carbs, and exercise at an obsessive frequency to clear the clutter in my head. i know i deserve real, good love and i've taken all the necessary steps to equalize my imbalanced brain chemistry. but pleasure? i'd rather give it. same thing w/ charity, advise, & random acts of kindness. perhaps the only thing i'd rather recieve is a compliment, and to be honest, i'm pretty bad at that. some guy walked by me today on the way home from the gym and he said "damn girl you look fine" immediately followed by "yeah, go ahead, roll your eyes." he was right, my eyes were already looking at the sky, not because he was some random guy, but because i still haven't learned how to say thanks w/ a smile. i look at my team, watch them act, listen to them speak. they say things like "if i gain weight nobody will be my friend", they hesitate to be great because they're living in the shadows of "perfect" older siblings.

they shy away from the ball at crucial points in games because they're afraid to ask for it and make a mistake. to all of this, i just want to say, stop, don't worry, you're wonderful as you are and still have more potential than you could ever know. it's okay, in fact it's necessary, to make mistakes - on the court and in life in general. the only thing that isn't okay is treating yourself that way, like you don't deserve better, or like you aren't capable of getting it even if you know you do. but if i did, i'd be the world's biggest hypocrite. i hold myself to impossible standards every single day. we lost a game on tuesday, our third and hopefully final loss of the season, and i spent an hour thinking of all the drills i could have done last week to make us a better team. truth is, we talk a bit too much during practice. and i'm always willing to forgive an absence. if i was more of a hard ass, if i had stricter standards, well, i'd be an entirely different coach of an entirely different team. they learn, have fun, enjoy themselves & their company, so why can't i be okay with the fact that i'm me? it's one example of many & sports are an easy metaphor for the highs & lows we all experience along the way. in the end, i think the season record speaks for itself. i think that the ability to come back after a bad half counts. i think that a laugh matters more than a perfectly serve, that a shot counts for something even if you don't score. that doing your best means different things on different days and that nothing is more important than enjoying yourself as you play.