Tonight's Poet Corner: Expectations

Expectations
by Belinda Roddie

When I was eleven, I joined the youth soccer league
thinking I'd get grass stains on my knees, my thighs
clotted from the dirt while hugging a ball
between my knees.

My sister was good - no, she was great.
A fullback, defensive, kicking away
all attempts at a victory display. She was more than okay.
Put onto the field at the start of the game
every day.

I was midfielder for about five, maybe ten
of each of their games, before I was called out
and someone replaced me. Sometimes,
it was for twenty minutes. I didn't touch
the soccer ball much.

And one night, the coach
simply forgot to put me into the game at all.
He apologized to me profusely,
but it was that night when I realized
something that took me a little bit by surprise
in my pre-teen mind.

I didn't get green on my shorts or my jersey,
I didn't stop goals or offensive players.
I stopped pretending like I was some growing
athlete for show. The bottom line was,
I was a lousy player. I sucked. And ultimately, I had enough.

Later in the season, I didn't want to go out
on the field. My lungs were always on fire,
my tongue always hurt, and I breathed very roughly
whenever I ran too much. Plus the coach
continued to neglect me anyway. Five minutes for each game?
It was insane. It wasn't what my mother had paid for.
And there was my sister, feet blistering
in her cleats, continuing our team's mantra:
The Fillies refuse to lose.
Refuse to lose.

We got third in the league.
We went to the championships.
I got a big trophy with some gold-painted plastic
figurine bending the ball like a pro.
And I hate having it.

It's in my closet now, dusty,
and I think a few cobwebs are growing on it.
Since that season, I hate getting rewards
for work on a team that is so painfully minimal,
it was like I wasn't there at all.
I barely touched the ball.
I didn't stop a goal.
I didn't contribute.
Was I stifled in my chances? Maybe.
But the question still stands:

Am I far too noble to deny me reward
for any bit of energy I can afford?
Or am I correct in thinking a trophy
or medal is not mine to keep, or show off,

or deserve?