I’ve spent the last 12 years immersed in the small world of competitive softball. I was entirely mediocre but loved the sport from the t-ball age. My parents surely had no idea what they were getting themselves into when they bought me my first glove, the glove that would lead to over a decade of tournament travel, private lessons, camps, plane tickets, hotels and countless pairs of ruined cleats. Bandaging my scraped-up knees from sliding, waking me at the crack of dawn for 7 a.m. games and spending hours under the sun at the ball fields, they supported me every step of the way. And their investment paid off when recruiting came around and the sport gained me admittance into Dartmouth. In fact, making my final decision to commit had more to do with the softball program than the school itself. I had lived with this sport for so long, but it was only a matter of time before my bubble would burst in my new surroundings.
I quit the team after two years.
Many Dartmouth athletes have spent the majority of their lives devoted to one sport, giving up much of their childhoods to reach a point of excellence. In doing so, they begin to equate their own identity with the sport, the two becoming interchangeable.
“All my life I was introduced as Taylor, the volleyball player,” Taylor Bradley ’15 said.
Jake Perkins ’14, a former alpine skier, “saw nothing besides sports when coming here.”
Rachel Decker-Sadowski ’14 described a similar identity complex.
“That was who I was — I was a tennis player and had been all my life,” she said.
At age 6, Decker-Sadowski answered every question about her future with, “I want to play Division I tennis, just like my sister.”
But despite liking our coaches, appreciating the beautiful facilities and clicking with our teams, the four of us began experiencing similar emotions at various points in our athletic careers.
For me, the one-dimensional lifestyle I had been leading became more and more unsatisfying. Adjusting to a college athlete’s training schedule can be difficult, but for some people at Dartmouth, this does not drive them away from their sport. The root of their dissatisfaction, I’ve found, is simply not having the opportunity to try other things.
Dartmouth immediately exposes first-year students to an overload of groups, organizations and communities. They all felt attainable, accessible and within my grasp. And the average non-athlete has nothing to hold him or her back from creating his or her Dartmouth — a foundation to stand on, made up of individual interests, passions and fields of study. As an athlete, when I came to Hanover, “my Dartmouth” was decided for me.
Freshman year, I watched my friends begin to shape their lives in this community. I felt like a little kid at Disneyland staring up at the rides and colors and people, but all I could do was go on the same teacup ride over and over. I wanted to try different rides, jump on the next roller coaster, but all I could do was sit in my teacup spinning until I was sick. The sport had swallowed me whole, trapping me in a routine that didn’t allow for the time or freedom to do anything else with my life.
Decker-Sadowski similarly felt that tennis restricted her ability to explore all Dartmouth had to offer. Drawn to theater and acting, she realized that if she continued playing tennis, she would never have the time to pursue the dramatic arts.
“It actually took one of my previous coaches telling me that if the sport wasn’t making me happy, not to do it,” she said.
Playing a varsity sport can also limit academic opportunities. While playing volleyball, Bradley was not allowed to take 2As or 3Bs, and in the spring, Decker-Sadowski could not take 2As or 2s.
Perkins said his team was given a list of acceptable time slots for classes, and he felt his sport’s ramifications in the classroom.
“I was falling asleep in class and my practice schedule always conflicted with office hours,” Decker-Sadowski said. “School comes much easier when you are not an athlete. Not only does it become easier, but it becomes more enjoyable.”
I was aware of the sacrifices I was making, but the sense of team loyalty instilled in me from an early age drove me to convince myself that somehow it would all be worth it. In an attempt to divert my shameful dreams of life without softball, I constantly reminded myself of something an upperclassman had told me my first week on campus: focus on what I can give to Dartmouth instead of what I can take from it.
For two years I had given to only this sport, and it felt unfulfilling. And it didn’t seem fair that I was giving to something that wasn’t making me feel complete. I felt this “giving” was holding me back from excelling in all other areas, including the classroom. Keeping these feelings hushed and tucked away from my teammates, coaches and friends only resulted in bitterness and resentment.
Dartmouth’s mission statement boasts the production of well-rounded, multi-dimensional, capable leaders, in and out of the classroom. I decided after my sophomore season that I would find out for myself if life without softball would make me feel like the complete, balanced individual that Dartmouth so passionately promotes. My resentment had built up so much and I knew it was time to make a change, even though either way I would be making a sacrifice. I walked into my coach’s office and quit, leaving feeling liberated.
I felt like I was swimming in time. I felt more engaged in classes, I felt healthier, I felt consistent. I had complete control over what I ate and drank, when I slept and when I exercised. On top of that, I had freedom in my D-Plan to choose the foreign study program I could have never attended. I could join the organizations I wished to be involved in, actually make it to my sorority events, take on internships without restriction and actually finish my reading without falling asleep.
Decker-Sadowski, who quit her sophomore summer, took on a major role in “The Real Inspector Hound” by Tom Stoppard her junior year, and now is a theater minor.
“I didn’t miss it,” she said. “I was burned out on tennis itself so I kept my decision.”
The transition for Decker-Sadowski was slightly easier because she spent her junior fall studying in Florence, though when she returned in the winter, she couldn’t understand how people filled their free time from 3 to 6 p.m.
Many of her friends were very supportive of her decision, as they felt that tennis had negatively impacted her health.
Bradley quit volleyball her sophomore fall, after feeling like the payoff wasn’t worth the investment of all her time. Bradley said others may have perceived her decision negatively, feeling that she had an obligation to her sport.
“There is always some judgement that goes along with it,” Bradley said. “Who wants to be labeled a quitter?”
Though Bradley struggled to find her place after leaving behind a defining part of her identity, she found the experience to be beneficial to her self-growth. Bradley remained involved in volleyball through the club team, joined volunteer groups and became Panhellenic Council president over her sophomore summer.
As Perkins quit his senior fall, his transition to life as a non-athlete was somewhat difficult.
“I wanted to maintain some aspect of influence even though I was no longer on the roster,” he said.
Despite his attachment to his team and the sport and his coach’s disappointment, Perkins ultimately felt comfortable with his choice.
“I definitely felt peace after I came to a final decision,” he said.
He became the director of Athletes United, which provides Upper Valley children with an opportunity to participate in recreational sports, and capitalized on Greek life, devoting more time to his officer position he held in his house.
“In choosing not to be part of the ski team, I have the time to be part of lots of other things on campus,” he said. “Through joining a fraternity, you meet so many different people with different backgrounds.”
Loyalty and devotion to one unit of people for an extended period of time can make it difficult to cleanly break away. Each of us had different experiences with the quitting process. Our coaches’ reactions varied, our team’s reactions varied. However, none of our friendships on our respective teams ended when our careers did. I realized that my teammates were never my friends because of softball — softball merely introduced us. If anything, I feel that our relationships are more meaningful now because I can talk to them as a removed third party from the team.
Perkins finds that playing a varsity sport limited his social opportunities. The strength of his bonds with his teammates “damaged my ability to create new relationships outside the team freshman year,” he said. “They’re still my friends, but my Dartmouth circle has expanded.”
I wouldn’t change one thing about my first two years at Dartmouth. I learned how to work hard, stay focused and persistent and how to give all of myself to something, which, despite what this article might suggest, I think is an admirable way to live. I suppose you could say along the way I found the best of both worlds.
“You know, I’ve learned that no sport is forever,” Perkins said. “At some point, you have to find other things that make you happy and fulfill you.”
When you can no longer discern your own identity from a game, it may be time to reevaluate your decisions.
“Redefining that identity was not an easy transition, but I’m so thankful I was forced to do it, because I would have had to do it after graduation anyway,” Bradley said. “It’s easier, and more forgiving to do it here than in the real world.”
Dartmouth isn’t a place to get stuck. Dartmouth is a place to grow, to change and to test things — most importantly, yourself. Honoring commitments is admirable, but honoring yourself — which for me came as soon as I said, “I quit” — is the only way to truly win the game of life.
The article has been revised to reflect the following correction:
Correction appended: April 18, 2014
The original version of this article misattributed a quotation about falling asleep in class and office hours.Decker-Sadowski, not Perkins, said this. The article has been revised to correct the error.
