When I was five, it was my dream to be the first girl to ever play for the Boston Red Sox. I loved the Red Sox so much that I genuinely wished my dad had succeeded in trying to name me Madeline Elizabeth David Ortiz Morrow.
Of course neither of these events happened, whether that be due to practicality or the fact that my goals in life have shifted around a bit. I quickly realized that I was not a standout little league player destined to the MLB. Instead, I shifted to the realistic path of playing softball and being a baseball fan.
Then I remember one specific day in fifth grade I was talking to my friend about how my dad took me to my first ever Red Sox game. After passing a couple of his quizzes, he started to ask me facts “I should have known if I was a real fan.” When I didn’t meet his standards, he completely brushed me off.
Similar experiences continued as I got older. After mentioning any interest in watching sports, I was immediately met with a test to prove my enjoyment worthy. I eventually started to stop talking about and watching sports, as there is nothing enjoyable about feeling undeserving of enjoying something you love.
I continued to play sports throughout high school, but stopped following professional sports all together. Fast forward to my first year of college: My best friend cannot stop talking about the upcoming NCAA college basketball season. I knew nothing about basketball, although I promised to watch one, maybe two games with her.
After getting a rundown on many players I had never heard of, asking an embarrassing amount of questions and staring at a 14 inch TV until my eyes hurt, I still wanted to know more. By March, I had learned so much about the players and coaches and was truly invested in their stories. My bracket was awful, but I was able to be reminded of why I loved following sports as a young girl.
When I was hired to be a sports reporter, I thought I would switch sections fast. The only knowledge of sports I had accumulated was half of the regular season and March Madness for women’s basketball. When I started covering volleyball, I was so lost looking at volleyball stats, and felt like a total fraud.
However, throughout Trinity’s volleyball season, I familiarized myself with certain players, and by the NCAA Tournament, I can say I was 100% invested in their success. I went from having to ask what a “dig” was to hoping I was assigned to cover the team for my weekly article.
Rediscovering my love of sports was not what I expected out of college, but through following women’s basketball and covering Trinity athletics for Trinitonian, I can’t imagine my life without them. I now walk past my Caitlin Clark calendar and Paige Bueckers poster every day in my dorm. I check on athletic teams even when I’m not covering the games. I genuinely love women’s sports.
The message I want to send isn’t to five year old me, it is to other people my age who are developed enough as people to reclaim the things they love. After recovering from whatever guilt and shame came with being a confused teenage girl, I feel I am finally able to pursue my interests without the intense fear that I don’t belong in a space. I am so excited for March Madness, and am guaranteed to cry when Paige Bueckers plays her last game at the University of Connecticut; I love following Trinity teams such as women’s volleyball, basketball and swimming and diving into their championship tournaments. I cannot wait to follow my little brother playing college baseball next year.
Sports have acted as a way to communicate and meet new people bonding over a mutual love of the game (or mutual hate of the Yankees). Your journey watching players grow and admiration of a team’s hard work can’t always be quantified. Sports is so much more than being able to pass a sexist test of statistics, and does not need to be defined by such experiences, there is so much more to them.
