Nothing is more difficult than joining a new club in college. It is terrifying when you are going to a new environment without knowing what the next four years will look like — you are meeting new people, and most of them are older than you.
There is nothing more difficult unless the new club is a new sport you have never played. That was the situation I placed myself in during my first week here at Pitt.
In high school, I was what you would call a sports junkie, but wasn’t exactly the best at them. Don’t get me wrong — I could hold my own in most competitive games, but I was never the star player.
I played baseball throughout my high school career, but I had always known playing in college was never what I had aspired to do. I knew I wanted to get involved in some sort of competitive sport in college because, as an extremely competitive individual, I needed to compete. That is how I found myself at the club sports fair, roaming on Cathy lawn, trying to find my “thing” for the next four years.
My first stop was club baseball. I had quit in high school, but maybe this was the beginning of the greatest redemption arc the MLB had ever seen — it was not. I went through the other sports I had some interest in — handball, frisbee and spikeball. But right before I left, I noticed a sport I had heard of once before on a random YouTube video. It was called hurling.
Hurling is the Irish national sport, I was told, and the fastest game on grass. It was explained that the goal of the game is to hit the sliotar into the goal for three points, or between the uprights for one.
The sliotar is advanced by passing between teammates, or carrying the sliotar yourself, although it’s only carried for four steps before either a pass, shot or hitting it back off your own hurl. Right away, I understood the game is played in chaos.
While similar to lacrosse, there are no nets on the hurl, so possession is subject to one’s skill. And like field hockey, in which passing is the main way of transporting the ball, full shoulder-to-shoulder contact is allowed, so bodies fly left and right. I loved it.
The sports nerd in me took over. This game used a bat-like object known as a hurl to hit a ball, which they told me was called a sliotar — pronounced sli-ter. Their information came at me fast and had me hooked — they required no equipment payment.
They were four-time national champions. I wanted to try something new, to meet new people, and I wanted to win. Where do I sign up?
I spent the next few days mulling over whether I wanted to go or not. It was terrifying going to a new place, doing something I had never even thought about. But in the end, I decided college is a place for new experiences.
I showed up at the Cost Center and was immediately handed my own hurl and helmet. The guys were super nice. They had simplified everything for me and the rest of the new members as we learned the game of hurling.
I loved how difficult the game was, how competitive every single player was, even during practice and with the bruises I could feel forming all over my body. This is my new team. This is my new sport.
The year went by quickly and so did my development. Like learning any sport, there were major hurdles and struggles, but every single triumph made my love for the sport grow stronger. This commitment to the sport was respected by my teammates, as I was voted in as vice president of Pitt hurling after my first year on the team.
One year down, and I had seen how much better I was, but I had only one goal on my mind — bringing home a fifth national championship.
Fall semester rolled around, and I was the person behind the table convincing new members to join our team. We ended up recruiting some great new members and began our journey to nationals in Denver. Not only was it my first year playing at nationals, but we learned that the finals were being broadcasted by ESPN.
This sport I had only played for just over a year could possibly get me and the rest of my team on an ESPN broadcast.
The year came and went, and suddenly we were on the plane to Denver. We were all packed into separate five-person hotel rooms, and the energy from every single one of my teammates was contagious — that Friday night, it was difficult to even sleep. Saturday, we arrived bright and early for our round-robin games against Montana and Catholic University.
We ran through game one against Colorado and took care of business, but in game two, my coach wanted me to play goalie, a position I had barely ever played before. I was excited but nervous, the same feeling I had felt two years earlier when I stood in front of the hurling table. My team and I played well and secured the first seed going into the playoffs on Sunday. We were one game away from playing on ESPN.
We knew our goals entering the tournament, and we were 40 minutes away from reaching national television. The energy on Sunday was noticeably different. A confidence had grown throughout the first day and was visible on Sunday morning.
We knew just how much we had practiced and prepared for this moment. We knew winning was the only option. The whistle sounded, and from my spot in goal, my second ever game at the position, I witnessed my team put in three goals before our opponent, Cal, had even gotten the sliotar past midfield. After the game, we went back to our sidelines, texting our friends and family to tune in to watch us play on ESPN.
In the end, Purdue was just a little too much to handle, and Pitt hurling fell in the championship game to the reigning national champions. But my team could do nothing but hold our heads high.
I had gone from joining a new club, a new sport, on a whim to playing on ESPN on television in front of my family and friends. I was given my very own highlight package in what was now my third game at the goalie position. All because I took a risk at the beginning of college.
I believe Pitt hurling will look better than ever next year to avenge the national championship, on the road to Pitt’s fifth title.
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