Second Place: “I Love Kicking, but do I Hate Football?” by Lucas Orlovitz

Lucas Orlovitz of John Jay Cross River HS (NY) mid kick off

The difference between the way you talk about football last year and this year is crazy,” my mom said to me before the sun came up one August morning. On my way to another double session before dawn, I echoed a thought I’d been frequently having, “I can’t wait to get through practice today, hopefully I won’t have to do much” I said to her as we drove to the high school. She then reminded me about my lack of motivation, compared to last season, saying, “Last year you were so excited, you spoke about how hard you wanted to work and how good you wanted to be. This year, all I’ve heard you say is that you want to get through practice and do nothing” This talk with my mom rocked my world. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to know what happened. Why did it happen? I had so much passion for this game, and now, I loathe it. It fills me with anxiety, anger, and pain. Getting through practice has become a task.  After weeks have passed, and I’ve reflected on my thoughts, I think I can answer my own questions, and while I know I still love kicking footballs, I’m ready for my football career to be over. 

     I saw an orange kickoff tee in my local Target one day, and my dad was nice enough to spare a few dollars and get it for me. I had a little football, and I took both to my elementary school and started kicking the ball. My dad and I debated if fifth grade me could make an extra point. I remember another night with my dad at Port Chester High School, when I couldn’t get the ball over the crossbar. I went home and watched videos trying to teach myself how to kick a football, and with some help along the way, I learned. That night still sticks with me, a reminder of my passion for kicking. Eventually I grew to love kicking the football, more so than anything else in my life.

     I dreamt of being on the field on Friday nights, of kicking the ball through the uprights, of having thousands of people watching just me perform. For an occasional few seconds, being the focus of every person in the stands. It drove me to work, to be the best I could be, and I worked at it, I worked some more, and then I kept working at it. Nothing else in the world feels like the sensation of the ball coming off your foot, seeing it rotate in a clean, end over end manner, and floating through the uprights. That sequence of events still brings me an incalculable amount of joy and pride. But playing football has been another story for me. 

     The last two seasons of varsity football have been incredibly tough for me. Football has filled me with stress and anxiety to the point that something I love so much, kicking the ball, has been surrounded by a negative aura. What I deal with from day to day is not something unique to me. Whether it be the constant berating from coaches about what I do at practice, which for me, are long and monotonous, or the dehumanizing conversations I’ve had with them, it’s reached a boiling point for me. My coaches see me as having no value, providing nothing for the team, and therefore, I am treated like nothing, despite my successes. The numerous times I’ve contemplated quitting is upsetting. I don’t though, because I don’t want to disappoint that ten- or eleven-year-old kid whose dream it was to be the kicker. I don’t want to quit on my teammates either, who respect me and what I do. But as I look to the future, and see my career finishing, I am not filled with disappointment, or sadness. I almost feel joyous, like a burden is going to be lifted, and my life is going to be better, more enjoyable. I will continue to give football everything I have, despite football taking so much from me.