Vihaan Week 3 - The Dilemma
I talk a lot about badminton. If every time I thought about it increased my skill, I would be better than prime Kento Momota.
Despite the large impact badminton has had on my life, not many people know just how much effort was put into getting where I am today. I’m not going to lie, there were days when I cried because of a bad game, or because someone told me I wasn’t good enough, or because I was unsatisfied with the stagnation I faced in my competitive performance.
The insatiable need to excel at the one thing I truly loved prompted me into a state of intense work. I gained ~30 pounds in the span of less than two years– and i
f you’re a skinny brown boy, you’ll understand how difficult that is. I had won a few tournaments as well, inspiring newfound confidence in myself. This new growth demonstrated an advancement in skill and physicality that showed progress toward my dream: being one of the best in the nation.
I wanted to play against the most talented kids in the nation with my name emblazoned across my back. I wanted to feel the thrill of the lights shining down on me as the umpire declared in that booming voice, “Love all. Play.”
However, I felt all that slip away. What used to be training for around 10-14 hours a week diminished to less than 3. I was heartbroken because my parents told me that there was no room for badminton in the pursuit of “standing out to colleges” through rigorous schoolwork and extracurriculars.
As junior year progressed, I found myself thinking about badminton less. Partially because of the fact that the volume of work is insane, but also because that dream has faded. I used to want it so badly that it was the only thing I could think about. Now, I feel like a shell of my former self, lacking even half the ambition I had before.
I find myself losing the spark that kept me going through some of the hardest times of my badminton and high school career. I think, above all else, I’m just scared. Scared of losing the thing that was my calling, my purpose, my identity, for so long. Sometimes, I’m transported back into a time when working towards that impossible goal felt like a blessing, no matter how much my lungs were begging for air, or how much my quads screamed like they were on fire.
I don’t have it all figured out, but I want to make it clear that I never stopped loving badminton. The court is more than just a 6.1m*13.4m rectangle; it is worldly detachment, true freedom, unimaginable bliss, and most importantly, my identity. The goal was initially about being the best, but I now want the chase more than anything. As Sal Di Stefano puts it, “The man who loves walking will walk further than the man who loves the destination.”
Hi Vihaan, I find it common that students our age are further suppressing their hobbies and interests "in the pursuit of 'standing out to colleges,'" which can feel depressing and unfair. Especially in junior year, it feels as if we can only think about school, and even if we do not want to, we have no other choice because of the tremendous workload. As we live in such a competitive era and area, the dread of applying to colleges just seems to be inching closer, leaving so many people (including me) in distraught of what exactly to do to "secure our future." Your ambition for badminton is really apparent because of the way you described your love for the sport in your blog. I personally like seeing how everyone portrays their interests in their blog, and I think you did a great job at describing exactly what makes badminton feel so close to your identity. I like how you utilized metaphors in your blog and how you personified your lungs and quads. I also liked how you formatted your blog to be in a story-telling manner, which made the writing feel more personal and relatable. I enjoyed your reflection in your last paragraph that even if you don't "have it all figured out," you have always loved badminton. Especially in such a stressful year where it feels like every second matters toward the future, having something parallel to your life that you can depend on and love is so important.
ReplyDeleteHello Vihaan! I recall your comment on my second blog about considering writing your next one on badminton, and I am happy to see that you have gone through with your plan! Although I cannot relate to your statement of being a “skinny brown boy,” I completely understand the devotion that one puts into their sport when they fight desperately to keep it in their future. The way you describe the rushing feeling of playing badminton truly is captivating, and really put me in your shoes. I love how you recalled it as “wordly detachment,” because there really is no better way of fully capturing the deafening and yet silent sound of sports. It is almost as if everything outside the court goes quiet, but the cheering of the crowd and the voices in your mind are louder than ever before. Although many people may put extra emphasis on getting into a good college, I think that living our fleeting life to its fullest is the most important task of all. Although, this may just be my own way of rebelling against my parents–who are part of the aforementioned people who put extra emphasis on college applications.
ReplyDeleteAs someone who once had their eyes set on playing in college but gave up after seeing everyone surpass me despite my tremendous effort, I applaud your determination, and I respect your dedication to your goal. I know firsthand the difficulties of junior year (especially being in APENG), and the time that it is taking from hobbies. Additionally, I wish you the best of luck on your badminton endeavors. I hope that you find your spark again, because I can hear your passion and ambition simply from the way you describe playing badminton.
Hi Vihaan! One of the parts of your blog that really caught my attention the most was your description of the court as more than just a physical space. I feel the same way about cricket because sports have become such a large part of my identity. As a kid, whenever my dad would turn on any sort of sport, whether it was golf, football, or basketball, I would shout, “I want to be like Tiger Woods,” “like Stephen Curry,” “like Tom Brady.” Whether it was a blowout or an amazing finish, I would watch the game with so much intensity, shouting at the players as if I were the one dealing with their situations.
ReplyDeleteI think back to one afternoon last July in Dallas, when it was around 105 degrees and I was playing at the massive Grand Prairie Cricket Stadium. Even with few people watching, the final minutes felt incredibly intense as my team fought to clutch the game. When we finally lifted the trophy, it felt more than just a victory—it represented all the effort, sacrifice, and persistence that had become a part of who I am. Just like you said how “Sal Di Stefano puts it, ‘The man who loves walking will walk further than the man who loves the destination’,” every practice I squeezed into my schedule, every time I tried to improve with the little time I had, and every moment I chose to keep going felt like it had led to that trophy. Looking at it now, I see more than something we won; I see a reflection of the dedication that shaped my identity. That moment reminded me that cricket isn’t something I play; it is a part of the person I’ve become.