Golden Ball

By Chris Kelemen

The story the Frog King I would say in many ways is similar to mine, but I’m not relating not to the frog but instead to the princess. In the start of the story she has a prized golden ball that she ends up looking for. In order to get it back she has to swallow her pride and work for it. The same thing that happened to the princess happened to me, but instead of a golden ball, it was my starting position on the varsity football team. Football is a part of our culture. To be a starter is an honor and a responsibility at Woodberry butI didn’t keep that. 

The first game against Benedictine wasn’t really a big deal.  But I felt like a king when I walked out on to that field. I was on top, the starting position was mine and the eyes were on me. It was almost like I was shining like gold for everyone to notice. Benedictine was a solid start, but that wasn’t the game everyone was talking about.  The LCA game was supposed to be the game of our season, and it was finally here. It was a calm crisp night on LCA’s turf field under the lights. You could just feel the tension between our teams. I was still wearing my shiny starters crown and I was ready to show LCA that Woodberry reigned supreme.

LCA chose to get the ball first, so the defense and I took the field. The first play of the biggest game of our season the QB dropped back and caught me peaking in the backfield. He promptly threw it over my head to their scholarship wide receiver.  Once he had the ball, there was nothing I could do but chase after him as he easily took it for a touchdown. Just like that, my bubble popped and all the confidence I had was gone.  My mistake had caused a touch- down.  How could I ever recover?  My confidence was replaced with worry, doubt, and fear. In thirty seconds I went from shining gold to dirty copper. No longer was I golden and it was humiliating, not only was I taken down, but everyone looked on as it happened.

From that point in the season, I lost my starting position and hardly played. I was humiliated; I let one play consume me and ruin my season.  I was determined that I wouldn’t let anything like that happen again.  It was an uphill battle for me, but I was going to polish myself back up and find that golden glow again.  I worked out all summer and came back this season stronger, heavier, and with renewed confidence.  I was ready to take back my starting role and to come out ready to play.  It just so happens that LCA was our first game of the season and I was ready to get back what they had taken from me the year before. I was told I was going to be the starter for that game and to get my head right. This time my bravado was tempered with a healthy dose of humility.  I was ready.

At game time I was ready to get my shine again. I was playing pretty well with a few open field tackles, but I was still waiting for my time to strike, where I was back on the field I hadn’t found that feeling where I was golden yet. My opportunity finally came late in the second half.  The Quarterback stepped back to pass and threw the ball to the receiver I was guarding. I seized the moment and stepped in front of the ball and picked it off.  I kept my focus and brought the ball down.   I did not take it far, but my play changed the momentum of the game. The pick led to the winning touchdown. I finally had my full confidence back, and it felt like I was a new man. The feeling was back and I was shining but only this time it came with knowledge of the road that it took to get there and how easy it is to fall back down it.   

Katabasis

By Paul Parker

A couple years ago, my parents gave me the privilege to use my family’s seventeen-foot boat after I passed my boater exam. The boat gave me a huge sense of freedom. I was able to go practically wherever I wanted to go and do whatever I wanted on the water. Whether it was pulling friends on the inter-tube, boating a couple of miles offshore to catch fish, or, in more simpler terms, getting away from reality, I cherished my boat and everything that came along with it.

            It wasn’t till this past summer when I made a thoughtless decision that cost me my boat privilege and my status. On the regrettable night, I drove my boat with some of my buddies to a party on Figure Eight Island, and I chose to ignore my parents' curfew and instead came back hours late. And just like that, I lost it all.

            No longer having access to the boat keys profoundly impacted me. I realized that the boat was one thing, but my status of having and using the boat was another thing. After my parents made it clear that I wasn’t going to be able to use the boat for the rest of summer, I was put back into my childhood days. Seventeen years young and desperate for freedom, I felt like I was thirteen years old again. I lost the amazing feeling of being on top of the world. I also wasn’t able to see certain friends anymore, nor was I able to go fishing. I wasn’t the person anymore that I used to be. Rather than picking up girls and friends to go on boat-cruises, I was doing yard-work and other chores so I could re-gain the trust I once had. For the most part, that’s how I spent most of my summer days.

            After spending my summer days doing harsh chores and being on my very best behavior, I gained my privilege of using the boat back, my status that I had dearly missed, and had also gained some wisdom along the road of ashes. Ultimately, I learned to think about the consequences of my ideas before I do anything. Needless to say, I’ve managed to stay out of trouble ever since. 

Inner Beast

By Egan Valliant

“You have NO friends and NOBODY likes you!”

Everyone in the hall went quiet. It wasn’t the words that made my stomach cringe in disgust. I knew (for the most part) they weren’t true. Did some people not like me? Yeah, a few, but nobody liked me at all? No, I had a decent group of friends. It was the way he said that with such certainty that made the hairs on my arm stand up. The words made me wonder if anybody actually did like me. My mind started to run.

I can’t just hit him can I? Actually, it’s almost Christmas break. I can’t even get in that much trouble. Especially if I use the excuse that I was being “bullied.” You know what? I’ve been putting up with this kid’s shit for too long, might as well.

         The conversation in my head seemed a minute long. Snapping back into reality, I still was unsure if I was going to fight this kid. I had no idea what to think, until I looked at the kid's face. The grin said, “I’ve beaten you. You’re embarrassed, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Something inside me snapped. I had a deep urge to inflict pain on him. I wanted nothing else. I wanted to be the alpha dog, and assert dominance. My heart was beating louder than ever, and after every beat my veins got tighter. Not only did I want to fight, I needed to fight. Nothing in the world was going to calm me down and I accepted that. When I got ready to charge at the kid, I felt like I was opening a cage, unleashing a wild animal. Within seconds I already had him pinned on the ground, squirming desperately to free himself. He wasn’t getting away

            Should I punch him in the face? No, I’d get in too much trouble. I can’t just let him get up and walk away right now, though…

            I felt the urge to inflict more pain, and I started swinging at his ribs and hit him ten or fifteen times, each making a solid “thud." Normally when a fight breaks out at Woodberry, kids try and break it up within seconds, but not this fight. I think the kids who were watching were pretty amused and thought that it was good that I finally stood up for myself. After the longest two minutes of my life, I realized there was not much more I could do if I didn’t want to get in seriously disciplinary issues with the school. I stood up, and simply walked down the stairs to Lower Turner.

            I’m normally not an aggressive guy, but something took complete control over me that night. Something wanted me to inflict pain on someone who inflicted pain on me. An inner-beast.

My Armor

By William Humphries

       Robert Bly the author of Iron John says there are three colors that have a logical and symbolic progression in a man’s life. The “redness” of a man, which is fiery and competitive, happens during a his younger years. Then the “whiteness” signifies a man has found a sense of meaning and lives by the law. Lastly he comes to the “blackness,” which is maturity, meaning he understands all three colors and uses them wisely.

      A heated game of wall ball in the fifth grade led to my achievement of a knight's red armor. A calm game became full contact, when I beamed the bright yellow tennis ball at Chris’ head. Our armor clashed against one another and pushes became punches. We ended up in the principal’s office with ice bags on our heads. It was my first fight and my parents tried to make sure it was my last. However, my red armor would lead to other conflicts with different knights in Middle school.

       From then on I never let go of that fire and competitiveness I gained on the schoolyard that day. Pick up basketball and football games became extremely physical and competitive, only because I wanted to be the best. Every boy has a fierce competitive side to him and I wanted to win every time, showing I was a better player than anyone else. Even in activities I didn’t care about, I had to win or do my best trying.

      Every knight sits on his high horse mighty and tall until he gets knocked down. This has happened to me multiple times and the more I realize it, the less ‘red’ I become. My mom says, “you are to big for your britches aren’t you?” She used that saying once when I was driving over the speed limit and I had just received my license. Moments such as that make me realize that I don’t have any right taking it that far. I still have my red armor, but I am less extreme than I was in middle school. When I do get overly competitive or fiery, I catch myself right after, when back in middle school I would never catch myself because I believed it was the right thing to do. For example, my Average Joe’s basketball team had a game last week, which we played hard and lost. I didn’t fight with anyone or complain, but rather accepted defeat. I have certainly matured over the years and it's moments such as this when I spy a little ‘white’ armor. However, I realize that even if I am receiving my white armor right now, I will never let go of my red. I will always be competitive in everything I do; it will just be in a way that is respectable and noble. 

Always Wear a Helmet

By William Jenkins

               My eyes shutter open while I pull my pillow over my head to block out the noise of the Morning Prayer, which echoes throughout the neighborhood on loud speakers.  These were my years in Malaysia, when I went to Mont Kiara International School.  One memory that will never fade was the day I had a magical encounter that ultimately saved my life.  It happened on my last day of school in Malaysia, when something should have gone wrong but didn't.

               Kicking up the bike stand and listening to the rust scrape and squeak, I was on my way out of school for the last time and headed to my friend Cole’s house to meet up with friends.  Once at Cole’s house none of us hopped off our bikes because we were too eager to ride around his neighborhood.  As the dust clouds were kicking up Cole’s younger brother stood like a rock in a stream and would not let me pass.  He bombarded me with demands that I wear his helmet even though he let his older brother go without one.  This sort of thing never happened with him. He was always quiet, especially around older kids, so it was very strange to see him get so worked up about my helmet.  So with a sullen face, I ran over, snatched the helmet, and sped off to catch up with everyone, I didn’t realize at the time that Cole’s younger brother might have saved my life.

               I had thought about just taking the helmet off when he was out of sight, but for the first time it did not bother me at all.  With the hot sun beaming down on our backs, we began the decent down the giant hill. With the high pitch whistle of air reaching my ears I realized I had passed everyone.  After the first seconds of fun I noticed the stream of traffic below and I needed to hit the breaks, but when I did nothing happened.

               The crunch of the metal car hood made me think it was my leg at first.  Then the horn and screech of the breaks snapped me back into reality.  I was laying down in a daze and couldn’t really see that well.  All I could make out was the large dent in the silver Toyota and the pool of blood below my stomach.  The first person I made out was a large man with a turban looking directly at me with an angry expression. The high-pitched voices of my friends yelling at the guy and calling their parents for help rattled in my head.  He immediately sped off and left me there with my friends who got me to my feet and took the helmet off to examine the damage. 

               When I woke up in a hospital nothing made sense.  I kept asking the nurse when I was going to have surgery without realizing it had already happened.  My dad came rushing in and hugged me so tight, whispering “William you dumb ass, thank God you were wearing a helmet.”  
           I don’t think it was luck when Cole’s younger brother handed me his helmet: it had to have been some other force.  I could have died or been injured even worse had I not had a helmet on that day.  I’m very grateful to have magic save me before that bike ride, and I have always worn a helmet since.

Girl Problems

By Ryan Kim

            In middle school I attended a few of my school’s arranged dance parties. I remember walking into the gym and admiring the paper streamers that adorned the ceiling. The top 100 hits of 2009 blared out of speakers next to the DJ’s booth. These dances were the premier event on the middle school social calendar, but I was an awkward five-feet tall and wore glasses, and I had the fashion sense of a brain-dead monkey. This left me with very little confidence. But the girls took a liking to me anyway, and before I knew it, I was in the middle of the dance floor doing the Cha Cha slide.

            After that dance I felt and acted like a completely new person. I outfitted my closet almost entirely with Aeropostale and Abercrombie and Fitch. My friends told me that the aura of pure doucherey I was giving off was stronger than the cologne I had begun wearing. Kids who I knew to be socially awkward became inferior in my eyes. I didn’t care that not so long ago I had been one of those social pariahs. I felt invincible with the digits of several girls in my phone.

            There was one girl in my grade who refused to talk to me. In fact she barely acknowledged my existence. Her name was Allie. I had approached her about a date multiple times with about as much tact as a drunken elephant. Finally one time I decided to bring her some flowers. She finally relented and agreed to to a movie with me on friday. That friday we settled down in the back of the theatre to watch some random action movie. Once the movie picked up I went in for a kiss, which was the limit of my experience. She relented, but with clear trepidation. I then tentatively moved my hand up to her breast. She immediately slapped it away with a shriek and dumped her soda all over my lap before storming out. My face burned so hot you could have fried an egg on my cheeks. The laughter from those who witnessed my humiliation rang in my ears as I called my mother to pick me up. I couldn’t sleep that night. I couldn’t begin to imagine what the other kids in my grade would think.

            News of my humiliation spread like wildfire through my grade. The next week at school the girls cast looks of pure disgust at me. My guy friends on the other hand found my predicament hilarious. They took every opportunity possible to poke fun at me. They jokingly called me names from "strike-out" to "lap-stain." In one night I had lost my self-perceived status as social king, and I was once again at the bottom of the social totem pole.

            One day at lunch my friends advised me to go apologize to Allie. I knew I had to make amends for my heinous actions. I walked over to where she was sitting and gave her a heartfelt apology. It killed me to have to apologize in front of all of her friends, and this latest public humiliation only compounded the previous night's mistake. I felt my face begin to burn once again, and I looked at my feet unable to maintain eye contact with Allie. I turned away quickly and went back to my table after delivering my apology. Allie called me that night and forgave me because I’d had the courage to apologize to her in front of her friends. I asked her if I could possibly take her out again to make up for our last date, and to my surprise she agreed.

            Just like the princess in the fairy tale I had been flaunting my golden ball. My confidence with girls lead to my downfall. I had rushed to action without considering the consequences. Like the princess, I had been throwing my golden ball too close to the edge of darkness, and I ended up losing it. I was only able to get it back by apologizing to Allie in public. I dated Allie for the rest of the year, and I was always careful to think about how my actions would affect her.

Cycling for a Loss

By Thomas Lee

            As I whirled down the hill, I cornered on every berm and gained speed. I was as confident as the princess was with her golden ball in the Frog King. All of a sudden, I flew through the air like an angel, but I crashed down with the illusion. Groaning in pain, I thought, “I can’t move.” I panicked and tried to move again.  I lost my golden ball in that crash like princess lost hers: I no longer had my confidence.

            As I slowly made my way towards my team’s bus, my teammates mocked my pain. The more ashamed I felt, the deeper my golden ball sank into the thick mud of the single-track trail.

            After that day, I found myself wandering from place to place, never recovering my lost confidence. I wobbled side to side on my bike. Reminding me of my crash, my teammates tore me down brick by brick. Each time I lost more of my will to fight to improve until I slumped in the corner counting the days until biking was over. I still hadn’t found my golden ball, and at this rate I would never want to ride my bike again.   I lacked the drive and the ability to stay on the bike and generate the power I used to. ­­I know I needed to rebuild my confidence, to search for my golden ball, which I finally found,  muddy and decaying, where I left it the year previously.  It was in no condition to showcase, I held onto the shattered remains of my confidence.  

            I rode with that dirty ball tethered to my left hip while I sped down the hill. Unable to lean into a turn with aggression and determination, I went straight off the trail and into the tree, but I miraculously stayed on, clinging for dear life. Afterwards, my golden ball felt nicer, softer. It felt warm to the touch and I thought, “I got this.” The finger that hit the tree throbbed with pain and I was shaken to the bone, but my confidence didn’t drop. The golden ball was still there, and a little more mud had fallen off to reveal a bit of the gold.

            I was still a nervous wreck as I lined up at the start finish line for my race. Images flashed through my head. I saw, cuts, bruises, blood, broken bones, and ambulances. The images intensified and my ball turned as cold as ice, and I no longer wanted to race. I wanted to sit down. 
            “On your mark! Set! Go!” the caller screamed, and I was off to the first downhill. The faster I got on the downhill, the higher on the berms I rode until I slipped of the edge. I rubbed my skin raw on the leaves and twigs, but some more of the caked mud was scraped from and my ball. As the mud dropped off the ball, blood dropped from my smashed knee.  I kept crashing and sliding out on turns, still hesitating and shaking. I was still afraid of failure, embarrassment, and pain. Riding by myself I approached the infamous ‘six inch bridge’ on the perimeter trail. As I gingerly place my front tire on the bridge my rear tire slipped off the bank. Down I went into the stream. It took me awhile to emerge from the cold, life-sucking waters, but I did it with my ball intact. I rode back to my room like a defeated but proud warrior. The golden veneer started chipping away from the golden ball, but I could see new platinum shining through. My ball now more valuable than before.

 I began slowly climbing my way back to the top of the leader boards when the inevitable happened. I crashed just as I did the year previously, injuring my knee, eye, and both elbows, I could barely move with the cuts and the bruises that formed. Blood  dripped down my legs and arm. I was a wreck. A group of teenagers rushed to my aid and helped me up. They asked if I was fine and I responded, “Did any of y’all get that on video?” When they said no, I thanked them for helping me up and was off to finish.

 After the race, I still had all my confidence and more. I had a new-found respect for the course and the other racers. In the end I never fully regained my old golden ball, but I found something better, a platinum one. Unlike before, I now respect the course and I take everything seriously. I may have lost my early confidence, but I found humility and respect which can and should be applied to everything in life.