For three years in high school, in the fall, I spent my afternoons around 35 to 40 sweaty boys in smelly pads. I wouldn’t trade a minute of being an athletic trainer. To begin, athletic training is a profession that falls under the sports medicine umbrella. It entails medical training, but you don’t become an actual doctor. Many high schools have programs for students to be student athletic trainers, with a professional athletic trainer to guide them. For students, this involves filling water bottles, learning to tape, assisting the athletic trainer with injuries, and sometimes even telling boys pickle juice is Gatorade so they won’t get cramps. I was familiar with athletic training because my two older sisters participated in high school with their football and baseball teams. I had always planned to follow in their footsteps. But when I reached the 9th grade, the Lord called me to a different school. I was called to Coram Deo Academy (CDA), where I will graduate in 105 days. But CDA did not have an athletic training program. Over President’s Day of my freshman year, I used my day off to write an essay to my dean of students, Mr. Jordan, proposing an athletic training program for CDA, specifically focusing on the football program. The essay was about four pages long, littered with in-text citations, interviews with both my sister and her former athletic trainer, and Bible verses about serving. The main points of persuasion were that students are drawn to athletic training because it allows them to learn about sports, be part of a team, and explore the field of health. When I delivered this paper this paper to Mr. Jordan, my parents warned me that the program would likely not happen. I accepted this and tried not to get my hopes up as I set the essay on his desk in its pink portfolio. A few weeks later, I was sitting up as straight as I could in his office while the assistant athletic director took notes on his laptop as we discussed what the program would look like. It seemed it would actually happen. One more meeting with Mr. Jordan and after the first day of school sophomore year, my dad was driving me to football practice. It was weird for quite a while; being the only girl among 35 guys is an experience. Coaches didn’t know what to think of me, players didn’t know my name and I had no idea what I was doing because there was no professional trainer to guide me. Fill water. Place water. Watch water. Repeat. Mid-season, I started bringing ice to put in the water jugs; the guys liked that. I remember the first time I got to tape a small cut on a boy’s arm. I was so eager to use the tape I had bought in the Kavu bag I ordered specially for this. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I remember the urge to check on him the next day. Right before playoffs, I had an accident at one of the games and broke my leg when a player came rolling off the field. A couple weeks later I had surgery and that was it for my sophomore football season. That summer I attended the TCU student athletic training camp, where I learned how to actually use tape, how to make an ice bag, and other important athletic training skills. The following August, I got a call from a man who said he was the new athletic trainer for CDA. An actual, professional athletic trainer. Someone to mentor me and someone to talk to at practice! It was an answered prayer for all of CDA sports. I met him at two-a-days the next morning. His name is David ‘Doc’ Ortemier. He’s a kind, semi-retired athletic trainer who became another grandfather to me. I remember the first practice I worked with him, setting down my water bottle rack and feeling a magnetic pull to him, thinking ‘Someone to tell me what to do next; someone to teach me.’. Junior year season underway, I made friends with the boys, standing at the back of practice whispering and laughing. I bonded with upperclassmen and underclassmen, training connecting me to people I never would have met. During the season, I learned how to give an ultrasound, how to tape an ankle, how to record treatment, to give stim treatment and many more things, all because of Doc. When the season ended, I wept. Senior year, it was even better than I could have imagined. I got another student athletic trainer. Summer Rogers, who is now my best friend. We survived football camp in the 100º heat days with countless trips to Chick Fil A, naps in between practice, and jam sessions on the way home from practice with the AC blasting. It was two weeks of two-a-days with 7 am practice every day but Sunday and I could not have made it without her. It was the best season. My relationships with the boys grew and I felt affirmed in what I was doing from an athletic training standpoint. I can not describe how hard it was to walk off the field, losing in the state semi-finals. One game away from state champions. I sat on the bench after most of the team and other trainers and my friends had left. A coach came up to me and I told him I just wanted to stay for a few more minutes. Knowing I wouldn’t tape another ankle, I wouldn’t fill another bottle and I would never wear my football necklace on a high school field again. Athletic training is not an easy job. It is a serving job where you receive little praise, but each day was a constant reminder that I didn’t do it for the praise. It is a humbling job because you know no matter how tired you are leaving the second practice in August, you know the boys are so much more tired. It’s a frustrating job listening to people call you a ‘water girl’ when you treat and tape and care for boys every day, in more ways than just filling water bottles. It is a spectacular job because you learn to be a servant and put others above yourself. It was the best job because of the friends I made. It was one of the best experiences of my life to be apart of a team of guys and men that wanted to honor the Lord in everything they did, with every down they played. I was never athletic so this was my way of being a part of a team. I would never trade a single practice; because even the ones where it was 100º or I stood alone having nothing to do but watch, I loved the feeling of being on that field every Friday night.
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AuthorA preppy Texas girl ready to take on the world! Archives
June 2019
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