In 8th grade I got into the IB program at Ft. Myers High School.
At the time, it was the possibility of getting two years of college done as a HS student that appealed to me. I wasn’t terribly concerned about being ABLE to do the work. I guess I figured that if I wasn’t able to do the work, I wouldn’t have been admitted to the IB program.
At that point most of the kids I attended elementary and middle school with ended up at either North Fort Myers High or Fort Myers High. Because we were a soccer family and my little brother had plans to go to North, we followed their soccer seasons. It was easy, because we knew all the players and families; they drove trucks and hunted on the weekends. It was closer to our house than Fort Myers was. Despite the Ft. Myers soccer program being decent at this time, I couldn’t have named more than two guys on the boys team. But I could tell you just about every guy that wore a North jersey between 1994-1997.
If I am honest, I wasn’t *really* able to do the work the IB program required. I scraped along for three years, miserable. I was in a class with doctors and lawyers kids, but I was woefully under-prepared in math and science. Unlike a lot of those kids, I worked a lot. My mom helped a friend deliver newspapers on a commercial route overnight on Saturday Night/Sunday morning. In the winter of my sophomore year he spent a couple of months in the hospital. My mom picked up his daily route and my sister, brother, and I helped. This consisted of leaving our house at 2am with books and lunches in tow, to run papers and then head to school. The route ended with a stop at a gas station to brush teeth, change clothes, and wash newsprint from our hands. During those months, several days a week, I showed up at school on only 3-4 hours of sleep.
In the end, I probably wasn’t smart enough to be in the IB program. I might have been able to outwork my deficiencies, but I just didn’t devote myself to schoolwork like I really needed to, as a consequence my GPA (of a 3.0) landed me in the bottom half of my IB class at Ft. Myers.
As a sophomore, I had started playing soccer and did well, given my lack of experience. My sophomore and junior years were filled with training and I found my way into a lot of training sessions, because no one wants to play goalkeeper. Eventually, the idea of playing college soccer started to become a possibility, which encouraged me to double my efforts. Despite this, I couldn’t make the varsity squad at Ft. Myers. Undeterred, I continued training like a maniac and eventually ended up at state ODP tryouts. There I learned that to be considered a college prospect, I needed to be on a varsity team.
Within a week of ODP tryouts, we’d decided to transfer to North. Later that year as a junior, I sat for IB exams whose outcomes I knew didn’t matter. It was liberating.
The following fall, I enrolled at North. Despite knowing all the guys on the soccer team, and many others, I felt pretty alone. It’s hard to transfer your senior year. Cliques and groups had been formed 2-3 years before and I wasn’t the kind of person who’d rule any school. I didn’t have the confidence to walk into a packed cafeteria and sit down for lunch with kids I’d known all my life.
But soccer was different.
I was welcomed.
I didn’t feel like people were thinking in their heads that they were better than me. On that team, I played an important role. I was mature and steadfast. I have since coached high school girls and this is what I have come to know: all it takes is one person, playing one position. On some teams, it might be a “big gun” striker, on others, it might be an enterprising midfielder. You can build a team around one player. On that team, I think it was me playing in goal. By being a calming presence in goal, the rest of the team was given the time and space they needed to mature into decent soccer players.
That year, the North girls were just as good as the North boys. We ended up winning the district championship game and a winter tournament. Even better, we hung with some crosstown rivals and I posted double digit shutouts. The best part was that I found a team I really liked. I felt like I belonged. I grew up in the country doing chores and fishing. These kids grew up in the country doing chores and fishing.
Several years ago, several North High Alumni began commiserating on Facebook about how we ought to revive the old Alumni game. Back in the day, the game used to be a big deal during winter break. This was so far “back in the day” that the current team would played against a team made up of alumni. Seriously. This is akin to thinking about how cars haven’t always had seatbelts and pondering how more people didn’t end up hurt in the aftermath of the Alumni game. In any case, some alumni on Facebook got an Alumni game organized for January 14th.
It was really fun. I played well. Actually, I was brilliant. Full stop. No need to qualify that statement. Only one person got hurt and no one fought with anyone else.
I traveled from Chicago to SW Florida for the game. Only one other person (a girl from my team) traveled from out of state. The guy that did the in-town arranging has mostly stayed put (outside of a brief forray to college in the late 90s). He’s stayed in contact with a lot of people who he has known all of his life. Which is strange to think about.
A lot of us have kids now. Other than being parents, I have so very little in common with these people now. But it didn’t feel that way. The overarching feeling I had socializing with these people was that we were old friends catching up.
The more disorienting thing to consider is time though. Several of us have our 20 year high school reunions coming up next year. In one sense, it feels like it was such a long time ago when we were teenage gladiators, willing to fight for the jersey on our backs. But in another sense, its hard to believe that that was almost 20 years ago. I try to remember what my mom and her friends were like at this age, but I am having the hardest time. You could make the argument that 20 years out from high school now is different than 20 years out from high school then, which is probably valid. Regardless, it’s weird to say.
Like, when did I get old enough to talk about anything that happened 20 years ago? When did that happen?