As I entered this sea of madness, tranquility disappeared. What
was once the outside world of normal adult and adolescent behavior
became a mind boggling aura of bubbly enthusiasm and never ending
anxiety.
As I entered this sea of madness, tranquility disappeared. What was once the outside world of normal adult and adolescent behavior became a mind boggling aura of bubbly enthusiasm and never ending anxiety.
Thousands of girls took the noise decibels of a quadruple birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese to another level and into oblivion as they chanted, “Sponge Bob Square Pants‚” at the top of their lungs.
I felt like the James Earl Jones character in Field of Dreams. Once I crossed over into this other world there was no turning back. No exit. No such thing as I made a mistake syndrome and I could turn back. Nope. None of these. I was here for the duration. Yikes!
How did I get talked into this? Am I insane? I could leisurely be watching Tiger Woods sink another putt on a nicely groomed golf course while consuming another bowl of chips with salsa and a cool beverage. Like a typical first year T-Ball player my first question was, when is this over? After looking at the program, much to my chagrin, I got my answer. It was an all day affair.
Like all the other parents in attendance I was attending a cheerleading competition, and, unlike most of them, this was my first, and as my wife assured me, not my last.
In my lifetime I’m almost sure I’ve attended 16,123 sporting events and watched boxing, bowling, baseball, basketball, football, soccer, roller hockey, hockey, handball, field hockey, water polo, swimming, volleyball, cricket, rowing, NASCAR, every event the Winter and Summer Olympics compete in, tiddlywinks and the World Series of Scrabble. Well, you get the idea!
Nothing compares to a cheerleading event. Not even close. This is charismatic chaos, tension you could cut with a knife, anticipation, victory and defeat. There‚s no Oakland Raider black hole fan section or 49er mystique, just every current music dance composition known to man and cameras turning on and off like blinking Christmas lights. Intensity is an understatement.
After watching group after group perform, I came to appreciate cheerleading as an art form with creative and artistic value, precision routines, gymnastic movements, extreme balance maneuvers and every member working in unison to form a cohesive unit capable of delivering victory.
And these youth girls want to win! Yep, just as bad as the Pop Warner football players they cheer for week after week. They didn’t show up to get a modeling contract or sign autographs. Serious business is the day’s agenda and having fun is the goal.
Yes, these girls are intent on achieving a pinnacle of success, even if it means taking over every restroom, both men’s and women’s. I discovered this when my four year old and myself heard nature calling and set forth to find our anticipated destination.
What we found was every boy’s and girl’s bathroom occupied with makeup, girls, uniforms, more girls, hair curlers, more girls, shoes, more girls, gym bags, and a never ending line of girls. Told there was a boys room in the other building we went there. Unfortunately, same scenario.
By now, my son was clutching a certain part of his anatomy like he was trying to squeeze Yogurt out of one of those plastic tubes, so we ended up at one of those fast food joints down the street, and you guessed it, the men’s room was out of service so we had to use the women’s.
Wow, these cheerleaders not only take over the whole gymnasium lock stock and restroom, they take over the whole town. Not to mention every local hotel, movie theater, restaurant and mall. If you try to find some film at the nearest Walgreen’s or Rite Aid, that’s nearly impossible. It’s highly probable that every last one was gobbled up by every mom in attendance before the store even opened.
Transforming myself back to the real world as I exited the competition I had a new perspective on cheerleading. Even though my ears felt like I just attended and Aerosmith concert, I fully understood that every participant that day had given her utmost performance in hopes of helping her team.
Dreams were made and some fulfilled. Others would have to wait for another day.
Driving home I couldn’t help but silently applaud all the cheerleaders, coaches, directors, judges and parents who gave their volunteer time in making cheerleading another sport to watch and enjoy, even though I couldn’t use the restroom.
“Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?” Uh, oh!
Rich Taylor is the CEO and head instructor of California Pitching Academy and a scout for the New York Mets. Reach him at rj********@***oo.com.
