Sure, I could have made it to the top. Standing 5-foot 10-inches, weighing 180 pounds, I was about as perfect an athletic specimen as Dolph Lundgren in Rocky IV. Once upon a time, I too had delusions of grandeur. Like Michael J. Fox in the cinematic masterpiece Teen Wolf, I dreamt of taking and making the game-winning shot, scoring the blonde bombshell Pamela, yet ultimately expressing my love for my childhood sweetheart Boof.
But as quickly as this dream was contrived, so too did it wither and die. Rather than harnessing this piece of Italian steel against the likes of Harvard or Brown, I, like many athletes at Dartmouth, retired my green and white cleats. And instead of battling on the ice-covered turf of Hanover, I now find myself fulfilling PE requirements by spinning (with or without spandex shorts) and contorting myself into ungodly positions in yoga. Why did I sink so low?
A recent article alludes to the reason why I no longer play competitive sports ("Captain, five more quit baseball team," Feb. 9). While it depicts a disturbing development within one specific athletic team, it skims the service of a much deeper crisis here at Dartmouth. Dartmouth sports, despite their intrinsic amateurism, have become a cold business lately. Coaches and support staff have forgotten the real reasons that students compete. Today, it seems that they are focused primarily on keeping their jobs and winning.
The result is an increasingly unforgiving atmosphere whereby teammates are consistently pushed against one another, second-stringers are no longer appreciated as valuable members of the team, and the game itself loses any element of the enjoyment it once had. The student reaction to these circumstances is clear -- athletes are quitting at an unprecedented rate. According to team captains, we find that the overwhelming majority of '07 athletes left their respective teams. Last season, five of 32 football players from the Class of 2007 played while one of five men's basketball players still play. One of five field hockey played this fall and three of 10 male lacrosse players still play. The numbers more than speak for themselves.
Considering the ever-growing demands of Division I sports (and the Ivy League's moratorium on athletic scholarships), fewer athletes consider the benefits of competition to outweigh the implicit sacrifices. While student-athletes are devoted to their respective sports, the honor of playing or representing Dartmouth no longer carries the weight that coaches assume. Athletes are forced to forfeit many of the experiences that lured them to the school in the first place.
In light of these demands, one would assume that coaches are working hard to make the incentive to play greater for their players. Discussions with current athletes lead me to believe that this is not the case. Coaches purposely schedule practices early and often (even during the off-season), effectively choking off any attempt at a social life. Even more disturbing is an apparent lack of loyalty to players. Many athletes point to coaches who routinely bench and cut players who have given years of service to the Big Green. In view of these developments, both starters and bench-warmers find themselves questioning the value of their commitment.
It would be unfair to say that this trend is universal. Some coaches do know how to balance a desire to win with what is best for their athletes. Ex-athletes from all realms of the sporting world annually flock to the men's rugby team because it provides an enjoyable, team-oriented atmosphere.
But there is clear evidence that something is wrong. Athletes who have spent the better part of their lives competing now find themselves making the difficult decision to quit. They are not lazy. Rather, they are not given the right atmosphere to compete. I do not advocate that coaches should pamper their players. There are, however, ways of conditioning players without degrading the motivation to play.
While varsity sports can be one of the most rewarding extracurricular pursuits at Dartmouth, these benefits usually come with a hefty price. Unless coaches enhance the incentive to play, dreams of glory will continue to fade as the sacrifices demanded no longer seem worthwhile. Athletes will continue to face the realization that Dartmouth sports are not what they had hoped them to be. Soon enough, they too will feel the bitter pain of yoga.
