Aubrey’s Analysis

The ending of the season is never an easy thing to swallow, especially when you’re a senior in high school who has dedicated years to a sport. It’s a moment you never see coming until you hear the final whistle blow.

You won’t get to wear that jersey you’ve worn for four years. You no longer get the excitement of picking your number. And as weird as it sounds, you don’t get to go through the grueling offseason with your teammates.

I know for some, leaving high school can be a checklist topic. Good grades. Check. Go to class. Check. Play this season because I’ve played every season. Check.

I also know that for others, it’s a lifetime to let go of.

Four seasons were spent pushing their bodies to the absolute limit so that they could get better than their competition. Four seasons of hard work outside of the classroom to maybe one day hoist a district championship, or even maybe a state title.

That same blood, sweat and tears that poured out over the last four years, it all comes to an end.

For me, I’ve been on both sides.

In Arkansas, I played my final games as a freshman in high school. My coach allowed some of the freshman players to suit up for a Friday night under the lights for the last two games of the varsity season. It was preparation for understanding the level of competition we would face next year, but I wouldn’t get that opportunity.

I continued to play sports in the spring as a baseball player. It had been years since I had played due to there being no middle school team, but I still played a part in some junior varsity and varsity success, with a district title to count for it.

We played well enough to reach the state tournament, but our season ended in the first round. It was at that exact moment that I knew I would no longer play with these same people or at that same school.

Transition to my new school. Here, I was the checklist kid. Do what you’re supposed to do and hit the road before your cap lands on the ground.

I still played sports, and I grew friendships through those final three years of high school, but my heart and drive for competition weren’t the same. I didn’t have my “brothers.”

Looking back, I should’ve had a better attitude about playing at my new school. Maybe then it would’ve meant something.

So here are my words of advice. Be diligent. Anything you do, do well, and may success attend your efforts.