Number 11

Alcaro 7

Skylar Alcaro

E. Doyle

English 11 AP (5)

21 December 2018

Number 11

Travis Konecny, not your average ice hockey player, is small, 5'10", under the average size of most players in the NHL. Despite him being "short", he is tenacious on the ice. Full of energy and speed, he skates around looking for the puck, as a predator would chasing its prey. He's feisty too. He's not afraid to challenge his opponent. One wrong move and he'll pounce on you like a lion. Most importantly, he's passionate. Emotion, drive, desire--he fights until the seconds dwindle out of every game. "Good" is not enough; he needs to be the best. His work ethic is one of his best attributes. He is constantly trying to become better. The adversity he has faced throughout his career has made him the outstanding athlete he is today. I too have had bouts of adversity.

* * *

I had just hopped back in the game off the sidelines after playing about ten minutes in the first half. Beads of sweat began to drip down my face as I ran for the ball. At one point, my vision became blurry, a stinging sensation occurred in my eyes for no longer than a second. As I ran faster, it seemed the ball was picking up speed too. I never thought such a small object could aggravate me so much. Finally, I reached out towards the ball and pulled it on to my stick. Sprinting up the field, I made it 10 yards until out of my peripheral vision I could see Liv, my right wing, calling for the ball.

"Got me! Got me!" Liv shouted to reassure me she was ready for the pass.

In one swift movement, I flicked the ball in her direction. I watched the ball's every movement to be sure it got to her stick. The moment she had the ball I sprinted through for her, giving her a passing option. When she finally passed me at the 20-yard line, I looked up to check the time on the scoreboard. We had just under twenty-one minutes to play in the second half.

Liv reached the 15-yard line and made a pull right, beating the defender and she was now in the circle. Off the left post was Blaise demanding the ball. Liv quickly passed the ball before the defender was able to steal it off her stick and in a split second Blaise one-timed the ball towards the net only to be left with the goalie blocking her shot.

* * *

Last year, my best friend Lucy and I were the only sophomores to make Varsity. I learned many things about the sport and about myself. We had lots of fun on and off the field and we developed many relationships with the older girls along with the two new coaches.

One of the experiences I enjoyed was playing a lot. I was playing forty-five to fifty minutes out of a sixty-minute game. As a sophomore that was a lot of time, especially since I was playing over many juniors and seniors. I never took advantage of that fact; I continued to work hard at practice and gave 100% every day. I ran until my body went limp, until my breath gave out and I was gasping for air. During our end of practice scrimmages, I would treat it like a real game, diving for balls, sprinting back after every free hit, making the perfect pass. After the first game, I was rewarded with a starting center forward position. From that moment, I started every game during the season.

When the season ended I was already looking forward to playing next season. I jumped right back into field hockey during the winter. I tried out for an indoor team and made it. I was so excited to be back at it. The perfect training opportunity I needed. I was able to focus on getting better. Not only did I learn new information, but I also improved as a player. I learned many new skills that could help me stand out. As spring came, I tried out for another team so I could keep playing. My ability to play all year long developed my into a better field hockey player.

Finally, came summer. My team and coaches were able to put together a training camp at a local gym to get in shape for the season. These workouts were twice a week all summer and really got us into shape. I took every opportunity I could to better myself as an athlete. I wanted to be the best I could be; I wanted to make the upcoming season even better than the last.

The season had finally started and it seemed as though my extremely hard work had paid off. I made Varsity again! There was one catch: I was not starting and was not playing nearly as much. At first, I was not looking into it and it did not really bother me. Maybe Coach was trying to mix things up. Maybe she wanted me to try a new position. That was not the case. The season progressed and nothing changed. I was stuck playing nearly half the amount as last year, and I was not starting.

I felt like I was being punished for something I was not even aware of. It broke my heart and my confidence that I was barely playing the sport I love so much. Not to mention, I worked hard during the off-season to improve my skills. I did everything I could and took every opportunity to make myself better. I felt like I put so much effort in for nothing. I wasted my time.

I began to go to practice early and stay after to work on even more skills. I began to run more and more to get faster. I began watch professional games to find things I could work on.

I finally went up to my coach and asked her what I needed to work on to improve, what she saw that I was doing wrong. The answer was not what I expected at all.

"All you need to work on right now is off-ball movement, just getting open for teammates if they need help. Other than that, your fitness looks great! I love what you're doing when you have the ball. Your skills have improved so much since last season," Coach encouraged with a smile.

All I could do was smile and say thank you. As I turned and walked off the turf and made my way through the gate, I was baffled. The only thing she told me was that I needed to be more open for my teammates. I was expecting something along the lines of fixing my techniques, becoming faster; I need to be more defensive. That was totally unexpected. I was open for my teammates, I was there and ready. That was such a miniscule change. It definitely was not a reason for me to be penalized.

The following days I practiced what she told me and made the change, I was doing what she asked. When Friday came, we had a game. I was ready to prove to my coach and teammates that I had improved. The time had come. I was finally ready to validate that I deserved more minutes.

During the game, I did everything she asked. I even took some feedback while I was on the sideline. The minutes began to dwindle and I still was not playing. I finally reached my breaking point. I am doing what she asked? Why am I not playing? All the emotion building up inside of me had finally reached the top of the bottle.

When the game ended and we had our team chat. I walked off the field mixed with anger, sadness, and discouragement. I got to the car where my dad was waiting and tried to hold in the tears, but I could not. I sat in the car and cried. At that point I really had no clue what I was doing wrong. What was I doing that was penalizing me? As I sat there my Dad began to talk to me,

"Why are you crying? There's no need to be upset. Look at it this way, what do you think Travis Konecny did when he was only playing ten minutes a game last season? When he was on the fourth line? He hustled every time he stepped foot on the ice. It didn't matter if he was out there for ten minutes or ten seconds, he played his heart out every time, he took advantage of his time on the ice. He never gave up. He gave 110% during games AND at practice. See where that got him? He is now on the top line playing with some of the best players in the NHL, he plays so much more just because he hustled his heart out. It doesn't matter if you start or if you play much, what matters is that you are giving your all and hustling as much as you possibly can. Then you know you are doing all that you can, it's not in your control than. You know you're doing everything you can and that's all that matters."

As I sat there and listened to my Dad speak I really began to think. Why am I getting so upset over this? It is out of my control now. What would Travis do if he were in this position; he would work his butt off.

From that point on I began to work harder than I ever had before. I put in double the amount of effort, sprinted to every single ball, did everything with precision. I was NOT going to let it beat me. I was going to achieve what I wanted. I was NOT backing down.

Finally, Coach was starting to see all that I was doing, My drive, my motivation, my emotion. Everything was paying off. Every moment I spent improving myself was beginning to be recognized.

My coached pulled me aside during practice. "If you keep playing and practicing like you have been, you're starting for the remainder of the season. You have shown me you want this more than the other girls do. Keep it up," she told me in a trusting tone.

I could not disappoint her.

I walked away trying to hide my smile. I lifted my head so high I could see the clouds. I was so relieved; it felt like a weight was lifted off me. I could stop stressing about what I was doing wrong. I could stop feeling discouraged and unmotivated. All I could think was finally. Although I had been rewarded, I could not stop working. I had to keep the flow going and keep the improvement up. My coach believed in me, so I would believe in me.

* * *

I continued up and down the field gaining and losing possession until I heard my coach calling my name to get subbed.

When got back to the sideline I checked to see how much time we had left, expecting there to be just a few minutes. It turns out there were fifteen minutes left. What felt like ten or fifteen minutes was only five. However, that was all the time I would play during that game.

* * *

Despite my coach's reassurance, despite my dad's encouragement, I was still benched before the end of the game. While I was disappointed, I had to remember what my dad said: "Remember Travis Konecny." So that's what I did. He inspired me to train harder, so now he inspired me to use my disappointment as fuel for my next step. I would keep going.