| Song equals the burden of my life (5/09) | | Print | |
| Written by Cherry Manoonsilpa | |
| Friday, 22 May 2009 | |
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The main reason is that a sport is not allowed to be without a coach. The Catch-22, however, is that in order to hire a coach, we need money. How do we get money? We need to become a sport to receive funds, which brings us back to square one. Without a coach, Song technically became a “club” and we stopped receiving money from the school. How did we survive? Students stepped in when we lost our coach, thinking it would be temporary. But now, five years later, we students are still stuck with the coach position. Every little thing a coach would normally take care of such as leading practice, choreographing a routine, teaching technique, planning trips, etc., was left for us. If students hadn’t taken control, all would have fallen apart. Because of this, Song has been the source of all my agony since the beginning of the year when good friend and fellow co-captain Emily Lewin and I were unexpectedly thrown into leading the team. We were determined to make this year the most intense, so that Song could return to its glorious state of being one of the top ten teams in the nation. Even though Emily and I had high, though realistic, aspirations, things didn't quite go as planned. Our lack of a coach made it difficult to schedule a practice spot, we were kicked out of the dance studio, the front of the school and the hallway before adopting the garbage-ridden courtyard. Looking back at how we were forced to move around like a group of fleeing bison, I realize that all I want is a sense of order. We look at other teams and laugh at how they have to obey crazed coaches, but deep down, we pray for someone to step up and show us some of that discipline and provide that uplift of pep-talk when we're faltering. What am I ranting about? We need a coach, a real coach. In the past we’ve had promising prospective coaches who said things like, “You have so much potential!” and “I want to take you guys under my wing.” But where are they now? Who can say, but one thing they've brought to me is a realization that is applicable in every part of my life: I hate people who say they’ll come through, but don't. Now I have my guard up, though it's odd to have to be so indifferent while talking to possible helpers. I want to meet a coach who will volunteer to overcome obstacles, even the lack of funds, to be with us. Just as Emily and I have been doing. As tiring as this year was, next fall the grueling process will inevitably start all over again. Even though I want a coach more than anything, I can't say I’ve been left with only frustration. When the time comes, I’m going to walk away with the best memories of high school: performing in front of screaming crowds and uppity judges, laughing with my team after a competition about the mistakes we made and the bonding moments when we blew off practice to sit on the cement and help each other out with more personal issues. After I graduate next year (which could not come soon enough), I absolutely will miss the hard work of keeping Song together, just because of the commitment put in by the whole team. I’m going to miss the team. Keeping the Cardinal Song team going has taught Emily and I and all the members self-discipline and independence. Let’s be realistic though, self-discipline alone cannot drive a small group of teenage girls to finals in national competitions, at least not without help. But we’ll keep pushing on until a coach is found. We may migrate like the bison who are practically extinct, but we refuse to follow the same fate. Share this article:           |
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to listen.
