Whilst Australia's cheerleading community is anything but small (nationals pulled in 12,000 competitors and a crowd of 18,000 spectators), it isn't very well known across the wider population. These numbers are even smaller when you get down to where I live in the western suburbs of Melbourne. There are multiple reasons for this, including stereotypes perpetuated by movies and popular culture, as well as the general lack of awareness of this sport even existing. However, I am aware that another reason for a lot of girls (and boys) not being able to participate in cheerleading growing up was because not everyone could afford it.
See, cheerleading is an expensive sport. Annually, cheerleading costs me up to 3k a year. Term fees, uniform costs, competition fees, flights and accommodation for any interstate competitions, choreography, and music; it all costs a pretty penny. And if you're going to the national or world championships? Well, that's a whole other ball game that I don't need to get into. On top of all of this, my gym is on the other side of the city from where I live, and I train 3 times a week, though this sometimes increases depending on the time of year. Petrol isn't free, so you do the math.
My point is, cheerleading isn't cheap. And once I got old enough, it was (obviously) my responsibility to pay for my participation in this hobby, which as a full-time student, wasn't easy. I work a lot of nights and weekends, and I had to sacrifice a lot more than people realize to do this sport. But we all do. Being a high-level competitive cheerleader, or high-level athlete of any sport comes with sacrifices.
Being a Flyer
See, the coaches don't have time to take things through with you step by step. You get told two things: what to do, and then to do it. A lot of the time, they won't tell you exactly what you should expect to feel, how you'll be caught, how you should land, or give you any time to wrap your head around it. There are little safety precautions or measures in this sport other than the arms of a few girls standing at the bottom, and there is very little time for slow progression and steps. You can cry or panic, but in the end, you still have to do it.
My other problem is that I'm scared of heights. And though I feel ridiculous admitting that (it is my job on the team after all), it's something that I frequently struggle with. Sometimes I tear up out of sheer panic of a hard skill, or I'll break a sweat because I just don't understand what I'm being asked to do. I am terrified of heights, and I'm terrified of making mistakes; a terrible formula for a high-level flyer.
So why do I do it?
As selfish and completely inaccurate as this claim may be, most of the time when a team is on the competition floor, spectators aren't looking at the bases. Unless somebody in particular catches your eye, or an athlete draws attention to themselves, chances are, the crowd just isn't staring at them. They're looking at me. Not me specifically, but the flyer. One of the best feelings that I will ever experience is hitting a stunt at the world championships, and hearing a crowd of over 15,000 people cheering. And for a split second while I'm still in the air, my eyes adjust to the lights and I stare at the people in the crowd. And as arrogant as it may come across, even though there are 20 other people on the floor, it feels as though they're cheering for me. The feeling is addictive, and it's indescribable. It's why so many cheerleaders are never ready to retire.
However, this also comes at a cost. When a crowd of 15,000 people are watching you succeed, you're probably the first person they see when something goes wrong. They won't (usually) notice a base messing up the grips or taking a step in the wrong direction. But what they do notice is my head bounce across the floor, or all of the split-second mistakes that I frequently make at multiple points in a routine. They watch me succeed, but they also watch me fail. The whole stunt will be scrutinised and gawked at, but it's my face they'll remember.
Being Part of Team
Team sports are common. Basketball, soccer, netball, all the rest. But cheerleading takes it to another level. There is no such thing as personal space. We need to get super close and personal. A good base is standing chest to chest with their counterpart, breathing each other's air. As a flyer, I have had bases unintentionally shove their fingers up every crevice of my body. A good team of any sport aims to build a level of chemistry and trust within their athletes. However, unlike other team sports, I'm not just trusting them to do their job because I want to win. I'm trusting them to do their job because as I'm being thrown up 10ft in the air, my safety is on the line. I need to trust them.
And I do, I trust those girls with my life.
Looking at it from an unbiased point of view, cheerleading is a weird sport. For 2½ minutes, you are holding and tossing humans up in the air, flipping and twisting across the floor, and contorting your body in ways that it probably shouldn't. You're chucking the most ridiculous and theoretically dangerous stunts and tumble passes, and each year is all about how we can make it harder. And no matter how much you're dying inside, you're smiling at the crowd and trying to make it look fun and easy. You train all year to put a routine on the floor that is over in less than 5 minutes, just for the chance to win a piece of painted metal. No cash prizes, just a medal hanging around your neck. You'll tear a few ligaments, maybe an ACL. Maybe you'll crack a rib or break a nose. You'll get bruised, cut, scratched, concussed, and frequently beaten by a foot to the face. All of this and nobody in the wider Australian population will have any idea of who you are or what you do.
So yeah, It's a weird sport. But god, I love it.
Butter: 2 Tbs
Salt
Pepper
Method
1. Put your pot of water on the stove. Add your salt and olive oil, and once the water has boiled, chuck in your fettuccine. Don’t let the pasta get too soft as it will cook further with the rest of the ingredients in step 5. Scoop out 3/4 of a cup of pasta water before you strain.
2. At the same time, begin dicing up your bacon. Get out a frying pan, add a bit of olive oil to the middle, chuck your bacon in there and a shit tonne of garlic, and let it all simmer until golden. Remove your bacon and leave on the side (do not clean frying pan).
3. Slice up your chicken breast into edible bites, and season it with some Italian seasoning. Chuck it into your saucepan and let it cook in the bacon fat on medium heat for roughly 5-10 minutes. Remove when cooked completely through (now you can clean the frying pan).
4. Melt your butter on low heat being careful not to let it burn, and finally add in the cream, parmesan, and pasta water until it reduces and thickens. Add a touch of salt and a crack of pepper for a bit of extra flavour.
5. Now, add your cooked fettuccine from step one and coat it in your mix. Continue this until you get the consistency you want. If you wish for a thick and creamy consistency, don't leave it on the heat for too long as this will dry up the sauce.
6. Serve immediately and add all the parmesan you want (you know you want to).
Bon appetit, bitches.
Here are a few lessons I've learnt over time,
1. It is okay to grieve the loss of what you thought was to be
2. Accept what you can and can't control
This one is super important, because even when things happen that are out of my control, I take the weight of it on my shoulders and behave as though it reflects on me. But truthfully, there are forces outside of myself that influence and shape outcomes. I can't waste time dwelling on things that I have no control over. All I can do is focus on my own behaviours and actions.
3. Assess other options, and get planning
The beautiful thing about life is that you have options. There is always an alternative way of achieving something, and there is always a pathway to get there. Whilst it would have been great for things to work out the first time, it doesn't mean that it's necessarily your best or only option. There is always more than one solution to a problem, so when shit hits the fan, assess other options and get planning.
Like I said earlier, very rarely do things actually go to plan. You fail, your anxiety gets the better of you, you make mistakes, or perhaps there's a worldwide pandemic. Whatever the reason is, learn to cope with it and build from it. It's not to be ignored, it's there to remind you that you are alive, you are only human, and this is life. If things go wrong, try try try again.
4/14/2020
Battle of the Barbie: I spent 9 hours watching and ranking Barbie films so you don't have to
This post is probably going to be one of those things that I should have left in my folder with all the other documents that will never see the light of day. Or who knows, maybe this is just the beginning and I'll review more movie franchises in the future. Either way, I hope it was worth ruining the value of my blog over.
Another year has passed and as of today, I am another year older. Yes, I have finally hit the ripe old age of 21, which means that it's time to start thinking about retirement funds, menopause, and getting those damn kids off my lawn.
I had always thought that he was the issue. But what if it was me causing all of this? I feel so fucking lonely, but he keeps saying I'm imagining everything in my head. I think I'm going crazy.