Finals time is not generally a time of joy. So when in passing people ask how I’m doing and I respond with excitement, I’m not surprised to get a few strange looks. Of course, I don’t have time to explain the reasons for my happiness to everyone I pass, so here it is.

I’ll start from the beginning. I’ve been playing the violin since I was seven years old. That’s fourteen years of practicing, rehearsing, struggling, performing, fighting with my brothers, who are also violinists, going to band camp, teaching at band camp… the list goes on forever. It’s also been fourteen years of not being able to play sports in which I might hurt my fingers, and always putting the safer sports I’ve been allowed to try second to my one true love: music.

My first experience on a sports team was a bit of an accident. When I was little, my mom didn’t let me eat sweets, because, well, I was a bit of a pudge ball and she was bit of a health nut. Whenever my dad took my brothers to their Little League games, I tagged along so I could sit in the dug out and eat the Famous Amos cookies that other parents brought for the team. Since my mom didn’t come to the games, this worked out very well, until one year my dad caught me stashing cookies in my pockets and said, “Livy, next year, if you want to come and eat the Famous Amos cookies, you have to play on the team.” I shrugged. I had no particular interest in baseball, but I wasn’t about to give up my delectable treats. If baseball’s what it takes, I decided, I’m there.

So I played. Since all the other girls played softball, I was the only girl in the league.  I remember my coach, the father of one of my teammates, giving me a rubber band once to use as a hair tie. As any girl knows, that doesn’t work out too well, especially when you try to get the rubber band out of your hair. But I learned. Soon enough, I could spit farther than any boy on the team. I became queen of the outfield. Of course, I always wanted to be shortstop, but I knew I had no real talent.

My next experience on an athletic team was Cross Country – I ran all through middle school. I was easily was the worst runner on the team, which, coincidentally, was again all boys except for me. One girl joined for a couple weeks, realized she couldn’t run with her asthma and left. By the end of 8^th grade, I had serious knee pain and after being examined by a doctor, I was told there wasn’t much I could do to fix it – hours upon hours of practicing violin had caused me to have terrible posture, and unless I wanted to stop playing and try to fix it, it would affect the way I ran.  Again music was ruining my ever so promising career as an athlete. If I wasn’t going to stop playing violin, he said, I shouldn’t run at all from there on in. And I haven’t, until a few weeks ago when I began running a mile (I started out at 12 minutes and as of today I’m down to 8:38, oh baby).

Ninth grade came around, and I joined the swim team. There were four lanes in the pool, ordered in terms of speed. I rocked out in Lane 4. At about 15 pounds lighter than I am now, I shared Lane 4 with Andy, who was so obese that he was forced to join the team by his doctor. We quickly became best buds. Both of us tired out fairly easily, so we spent about a good percentage of our time devising ways of getting out of doing the assigned sets. I learned how to hold my breath longer than anyone on the team due solely to the fact that I practiced it every day – when I got tired, which was often, I took a deep breath and dipped under the large gush of water shooting out into the pool. I would hide there from Coach Duffy until Andy came back from his lap, and then I’d slip back into the set as if I’d been there all along.

Two years later, I developed tendinitis in both arms and for the first time in my life had to take time off from playing the violin. My physical therapist told me I needed to build up my arm muscles and encouraged me to join the crew team. I laughed. No, really, she told me, just try it, you might even like it. Doubtful, but I was up for anything. I joined a boat house on the Harlem River designed to teach inner city children how to row. After realizing that I wasn’t terribly qualified to teach rowing and didn’t have any particular interest in learning, we switched gears. I brought several of my old violins to the boathouse, and instead of erging, the kids started honking out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” on the dock. It was beautiful.

When I arrived at Amherst I became co-captain of the Warrior Monkeys, an intramural soccer team. I had no actual skill, so I resorted to aggressive defense and verbal abuse (Once, in the heat of battle, I actually shouted “I had sex with your mom last night!” as a large, athletic, lax-playing member of the other team was about to score. I don’t know what came over me, but it did work). We didn’t win the championships, but my boyfriend’s team did and I stole his “Intramural Champion” shirt. I wear it to bed at night and pretend I’m a star.

Outside of my dreams, I’ve never won an award for athletic performance. I’ve won my share of musical competitions, but when it comes to sports, I’ve got nothing. Not even the smallest medal for being able to down more Famous Amos cookies than any boy on my Little League team. Until last Saturday night. The girls frisbee team presented me with the award of “Most Likely to Leave Sparkle Motion and Join Army of Darkness,” an award that was not even on the voting sheet, but created especially for me on the insistence of a member of the boys team (Thanks Andy!). I was ecstatic – my very own paper plate! I couldn’t believe it. I have been working for this all semester, tossing with the boys during the day and going to the boys’ practices in the afternoons. When they announced the award, I jumped up and hugged both captains of the boys’ team, not even thinking to hug either female captain.

After all the awards had been handed out, the boys welcomed me to their team. The new captain hugged me and told me I’d be added to the email list (Don’t forget, Monty! ). A member of the girls’ team came up to me and said she wasn’t sure if I would like it or be insulted. Are you kidding me?! I could not have asked for a better award.