My father jokes I’m a poor excuse for an athlete. I get winded going up the stairs, would rather sit on my couch than lift weights, and certainly don’t have the killer instinct for competition my peers do. But ever since I can remember, I’ve played sports. Maybe not successfully – I’ve never won a shiny NCR medal or played on the All-Stars pitch – but for the past two years, I’ve been to every rugby practice and game, because being a teammate? Being there to cheer from the bench, run water onto the field at halftime, or just be someone that makes the rookies a little less nervous? That’s how I define success – and that’s what I found in the rugby family. Let’s clarify what I mean by a “poor excuse for an athlete”; I was a runner from age six through eighteen, and rowed for my first year of University – and seeing the finish line first was an experience I never had. My first night of rugby, though, put those other feats of mediocre athleticism to shame – of the near 15 balls that were thrown my way, I caught a grand total of zero. My captain eventually just handed the ball to me, so I could try running with it, and I promptly tripped over my own feet, slamming into the ground with such force that the ball immediately left my arms. It was like two magnets with the same polarity; the ball and I repelled each other, and with great force. After showing up to practice for two years, I’m thankfully catching at a slightly higher success rate. But while I wish I could say I was the next Alev Kelter, I’ve honestly spent as much time as an alternate on the bench as I have on the pitch. Though I have of course grown as a player, the rugby family has been far more vital in shaping who I am, as compared to what I can do. The best part of my games have been screaming “Big Scrum” from the bench, braiding hair before starters take the pitch, and holding bags of ice to bruised knees or shins. Those moments, where I remember that I am a teammate, not just an individual, stand out just as much as scoring my first try or making a conversion kick. The influence of the “rugby family” even crosses national borders. I’ve spent the last 4 months in Tübingen, Germany, and before I’d even landed, I was DM-ing the local rugby team to see if they had a spot for one more player. It’s there that I’ve been playing for the past few months – and I can tell you, the rugby spirit certainly carries over the language barrier. My first practice with the team, one of the older players immediately walked over to introduce herself, and help me navigate the locker room. She slowed down her rapid-fire German so my jet-lagged brain could comprehend words, and offered to be my partner for the contact drills that night. And after hours of travel, culture shock, and homesickness, the effect that her kindness had cannot be understated. This is what rugby “family” means to me. It means support, freely given and kindly received, between grades and experience levels and language barriers – the sport of rugby has been as much about that, as it ever has been about winning. As I enter my senior year, I hope to carry on this tradition of kindness, passing on the lessons I’ve learned (and maybe improve some catching skills as well).

I have never qualified for a state championship. I have never played on the All-Stars pitch, never been to nationals, never worn a shiny gold medal with “NCR” engraved in it. I was a runner from age six through eighteen – and though I got a bit faster over these years, I never seemed to find myself crossing the finish line first. When I rowed my freshman year of university, every day was a dogfight for my seat in the boat. My first night of rugby, though, put those others to shame – of the near 15 balls that were thrown my way, I caught a grand total of zero. he one time the ball was physically handed to me, so I could practice running with it, I managed to trip over my own feet, slamming into the ground with such force that the ball immediately left my hands. It was like two magnets with the same polarity; the ball and I seemed to repel each other, often with great force. After showing up to practice for two years, I can now say I’m catching at a slightly higher success rate. But while I wish I could say I was the next Ellie Kildunne or Alev Kelter, I’ve honestly spent as much time as an alternate on the bench as I have on the pitch. Though I have of course grown as a player, rugby has been far more vital in shaping who I am, as compared to what I can do. Every sport has challenged my ego – it’s not always easy to find joy in something that you aren’t the best at. But rugby more than all others has challenged my heart – to find happiness when others succeed, to do what I can to work hard and earn a spot, and, after giving everything I had at practice and still coming up short on the roster, to take a breath, smile, and cheer from the bench. The best part of my rugby games have often been screaming “Big Scrum”, braiding hair before the starters take to the pitch, and holding bags of ice to bruised knees or shins when the game is done. Those moments, where I remember that I am a teammate, not just an individual, stand out just as much as scoring my first try or making a conversion kick. I am 21 years old. There are a thousand places I haven’t been and a thousand things I haven’t done. So for me to sit here and say rugby gave me my purpose in life feels rather heavy handed. I could go through a life-changing event tomorrow, which causes me to re-evaluate everything. But I can tell you the sport of rugby has instilled in me the values of hard work and support, and that those values will stay with me as long as I live. They are the values that have led me to make decisions about my budding career in social work, my application into the Peace Corps, and my decision to join a rugby team while studying abroad in Germany. I am a dynamic person – I hope I do not wake up in ten years to be exactly the same as I am now. But for today, this is what I’ve got. This is the closest I can come to telling you who I am - a mediocre athlete, maybe, but a hard worker, a teammate, and a pretty decent person too.

My father has always joked I wouldn't know athletic success if it hit me in the face. Now, before you judge him, you’ve got to understand he’s absolutely correct - the closest I've been to a first place ribbon is when my friend got one. But I’ve been to every practice and every race, ready to support my team, to work hard, and to have a little fun. Because that is what success means to me. I joined my first running team in fifth grade, and the sport carried me through high school. And though I shot up like a weed, I never seemed to find myself crossing the finish line first. Fiftieth, twenty-second, maybe something in the top fifteen – never anywhere near the front. But that was never too important. My coach said it best. “I can’t train you to be an Olympian,” he said. “But I hope I can train you to be a friend.” And I was. The best part of my race was always after I’d crossed the finish line – running back to another part of the course and cheering on the girls who hadn’t finished yet. So I never qualified for a state championship. But I learned how to succeed in other ways -- in being a teammate that others could trust. Knowing all that, you’d have to agree; there is no logical reason I should have been a collegiate athlete. But I have the great luck of being tall. So after two weeks of tryouts, I was named a member of the Novice Rowing team. For those who don’t know, there is a great difference between recreational and competitive collegiate sports. My new coach encapsulated it best with his so-called shark metaphor. “You’re on a beach,” he’d say. “Everyday people, they’re in the parking lot. They’ll never get near the water. Some rowers will dip their toes in the water, some will wade out a little bit. A few might even get up to their waist. But we want you out deep – we want you swimming with the sharks.” His intention was to have us push ourselves to the next level. Get cutthroat, get dangerous. Swimming with the sharks meant doing anything in pursuit of being the best. So for 20 hours a week, I gave everything I had. My life became fighting for a seat in the boat. As the months flew by, I got stronger, more competitive. Maybe I wasn’t swimming with sharks yet, but I was certainly further into that water than I’d ever been. The discipline and dedication had paid off – I earned my seat in a boat two weeks before the Big Ten championships, and brought home a gold medal. What I lacked in competence, I made up for in work – I never missed a practice and pushed myself in every race. This, I learned, was another form of success -- the ability to keep fighting. My discipline was not enough to be asked back for a second year, so I figured I needed a new sport; rugby. Keep in mind; I had never played a sport with a ball, a field, penalties or contact. I was a disaster waiting to happen. The first night of practice, I made an impression. Of the 15 balls that were thrown my way, I caught a grand total of zero. The one time a ball was physically handed to me (to practice running), I managed to trip over my own feet, slamming into the ground so brutally that the ball immediately left my hands. And yet I came home grinning, yelling to my roommates about how I was now officially a rugby player. This experience was best summarized by my coach. “I can teach you how to play great rugby,” she said. “How to fix your mistakes and win some hardware. But if you’re just here to learn a new sport and have fun, that’s fine too.” And so it was. This sport showed me what it meant to make mistakes, but get up and keep going. Success, I learned, can mean doing what's best for you -- it can mean having fun, even when you're not great. I'm pretty far from a traditionally "successful" athlete. But 3 sports later, success looks different to me. It looks like being a strong teammate, a hard worker, and someone who has a little fun. I don't know how long I'll be able to play sports -- outside of college, there aren't a ton of athletic teams out there. This scholarship would let me continue redefining success by taking off the burden of paying for college. It would give me the chance to be successful in athletics (in my own way).