All my life, I have been completely uninterested in sports. While all my friends flourished in youth leagues and charged soccer balls head first in gym class, I sat out. If you had asked me why I shied away, I could have given you a number of reasons I thought were true: the rules were arbitrary, the games were boring, I was too stubborn to be coached. And while all of this was viable, what truly kept me from sports had to do with what I myself lacked— I was bad at sports.

By that I mean, I believed that all the prowess my friends possessed to kick and swing and throw was genetic—that their skill had to be effortless, and mine was simply not. But, I was good at other things, like music and writing, and that was sufficient for me.

That all changed my freshman year of high school, when I decided to try out for the tennis team. On the courts, I clumsily missed every shot, got back in line, and stared in awe as the starting line up seamlessly returned each of them. These girls made it look so easy, while I floundered. It was just like all my life.

But something strange happened when I got home that day: I cried. I was bad at tennis, and this was upsetting to me. For once, I didn’t pretend I was fine with my inadequacy; I wanted to be good at tennis, and I was going to try.

So I continued to show up, and I just made the cut. I found myself inspired by the girls around me, who were not only talented, but worked hard to improve. There were our captains Anya and Kat, who courageously stepped up to singles matches. There was Chloe, who swung with a force that made you dizzy. And there were girls my age, like Shannon, who taught me I didn’t need to play my whole life to be skilled—I could start now. I spent most of that season watching these girls play from the sidelines, taking note of how they swung and placed shots. Sometimes, after their games were finished, I would get called up for an exhibition match. This was my chance to practice what I learned, and I would give it my all, relishing in every thunk of the ball against my racket.

I remember how, after one hard swing, the strings of that racket burst open—I had finally taken control of my racket in a way I never believed possible for myself. At that moment all my previous frustration was worth it, blown to pink nylon shreds.

My junior year, I wasn’t just watching anymore—I was starting. We were playing a tough team, and our doubles pairs were equally matched, resulting in a third set and a tie breaker—which we lost. I couldn’t help but weep when I got in the car. Now, when I look back on that moment I realize the unusual beauty of what those tears meant: I cared about tennis. All of these years I had opened my mind to something new and challenging, and allowed myself to be unashamedly bad at it. And after years of hard work and experience, I was finally able to admit that I not only liked sports, but I could be good at them, too. 

Joining the tennis team taught me that I am capable. Ever since that racket-breaking shot, I had been doing things that scared me, whether I realized it or not. I took challenging classes by myself, like AP History and Music Theory. I talked to new people, and I tried new sports. It all comes easier to me now, knowing that, when I inevitably make mistakes, I can embrace the sweaty palms and tears. Then, I’ll rebound with new knowledge and confidence, allowing myself to break not only strings, but self-made barriers.

Here’s what Lila said about her essay:

I was first inspired to write about tennis for my college essay at the end of my junior year, when I published an opinion piece on the Colonel Chronicle about my experience joining the team. It was writing this reflection that sparked an idea within me—I realized that tennis had helped shape who I am. If this essay looked familiar, it’s because I took a lot of inspiration from that original article!

I’ll echo an idea that Sarah Jeffers shared in her college essay reflection, which is that, while you will be told left and right to “avoid cliches,” you should ignore it. Anything can be a cliche—we are all humans who are bound to share similar experiences. My story about growing from sports, while not uncommon, is entirely valid and made unique by my own personal perspective. Overall, focus less on the event that “happened to you”, and focus more on how you yourself handled it. Now that’s a good story!

Whatever it may be, your personal story is interesting, it is powerful, and it involved challenges. Reflect on these events, and focus on how you have grown from them. Any lesson learned can be an important one if you write it well enough!