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IN FOCUS: ARTICLE |
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Athletes or Eye Candy?
by Kari Croop, 07.29.03
Um, excuse me, but what happened to cheer-ocracy? |
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About a month before I was supposed to start cheerleading camp, a brown, padded envelope arrived in the mail. Inside was a folded, white cotton T-shirt announcing my squad's new motto: "If you don't think cheerleaders are athletes, you really missed the game."
We'd decided to get the shirts on a whim — mostly because we thought they were funny. But there was an element of truth to the slogan: technically, cheerleading was a sport at our school. You could even letter in it. But we'd never really considered our brand of cheerleading athletically demanding.
Most of us were in cheerleading because we liked being a part of the excitement of Friday-night football, or because we liked to dance, or even because our friends were doing it. I didn't really know any girls who got into it because it was good exercise. I mean, how many calories can you really burn making spirit fingers?
Let's Get Physical
Personally speaking, I was no athlete, with average height, above-average weight, and below-average muscle tone. I couldn't even run a full mile without walking. There were a few exceptions on the squad — mainly, my friend Jess, who was the type of girl who'd apparently been born with well-defined muscles and zero percent body fat — but for the most part, we treated cheerleading more like a social activity than a sport.
We weren't total wimps when it came to physical strength. (Have you ever tried balancing someone above your head using only your hands and positive thought?) But I'd say we fell somewhere between true athletes and mere eye candy.
Everything changed the year Mrs. Ramp arrived. Unlike our last coach, who was about 50 years old and way out of touch with what it was like to be 15, Mrs. Ramp was young and recently married. She'd just left grad school and was excited to be coaching her first squad. We thought she was great and liked her instantly — until she opened her mouth.
"If you want to be winners, you've got to do the work," she barked, slicing our chitchat with a shrill blow from the whistle around her neck. "Being taken seriously starts with getting serious."
We exchanged nervous glances as she laid out our plans for the summer, which included aerobicizing three times a week before practice, using the football players' weight room, and running laps in the gym. Um, excuse me, but what happened to cheer-ocracy? Maybe those T-shirts weren't such a good pick-up after all.
Cheerleaders on Strike
As the weeks progressed, it became clear that Mrs. Ramp would have to go. The problem was, no one could figure out how to get rid of her. As one of our squad's captains, I struggled to find a solution that would work for everyone. But aside from a long list of things that were probably illegal, it seemed that our only other option was to stage a cheer d'etat.
My friends Jamie, Aimee, and Suzi left first. Alli followed, and then Laurie. After a brief moral dilemma (I'd never been a follower and most definitely wasn't a quitter), I decided to go, too. That left our other captain, Jess, with one super-peeved coach and a squad that had dwindled to half its original size.
A Cheerless Existence
The rest of the year was kind of weird for me. Now when I went to games, it was as a spectator and not a participant. And it felt strange to be sitting in the stands, watching the girls go through cheers I'd been practicing all summer. The worst part was, they all seemed fine, like they didn't even need us. Quitting had been so hard for me, but in the end, I guess it hadn't accomplished that much.
Who knows? Maybe if I'd stuck around, I'd be fitter, healthier, and happier. Maybe I'd be miserable and sore. But I'll never know since I took the easy way out.
You know, I've still got that T-shirt, and every time I wear it, I can't help noticing the irony. Because when you think about it, I really didn't think cheerleaders were athletes. And that's too bad, 'cause I do miss the game. |
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