Matt Berusch
Collage
Creative Writing
Oetter p4
4:16 a.m. January 22, 1992:
The first time I opened my eyes.
7:45 a.m. January 22, 2008, conversation with my mom as she drives me to school:
“Mom, I just don’t know. I don’t really feel like running after school today.”
“I don’t care Matt. You promised me you’d go. You are running!”
“Jeez Mom! Chill, fine I’ll go, but you better make me my favorite matzo ball soup tonight.”
3:25 p.m. January 22, 2008, mood:
Dreading 3:45.
3:45 p.m. January 22, 2008:
First day of track.
7:50 p.m. January 18, 2008, conversation with my dad after dinner:
“You know those kids will be way faster than you.”
“Yea, I know.”
“Then why are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, “ Who knows? Maybe I’ll get faster. It’ll also be great conditioning for soccer next year. I could try out again.” Who was I fooling? I was not about to embarrass myself in front of my club teammates again by not making the high school team.
“But won’t you be bored practicing everyday and never competing in a real meet?”
“Maybe, but hopefully I’ll be one of the best scrubs. I can’t be that slow.”
4:40 p.m. January 22, 2008, epiphany:
Those kids are not faster than me.
5:15 p.m. January 22, 2008, conversation with new teammates in locker room:
“Berusch, you got some wheels man!” They told me as I pulled my Acceleration Illinois tee shirt over my head.
“Nah, I don’t think anyone was really trying.” I replied through the sleeve hole of my sweatshirt that I was trying to pull on.
“Still man, I saw you win a bunch of heats,” he said fueling my ego.
10:00 a.m. July 19, 2007, thoughts as I start my 7th super-treadmill session:
Is this really going to make me faster?
I had been going at it for months. I was determined to get faster, stronger, and more agile than I was before. Everyday I went to Acceleration Illinois, a speed and strength training facility on green bay road in Winnetka. I went everyday for at least 3 hours, but normally four, a product of a move from Maryland just months before resulting in having little friends to spend time with during the summer. I went to lift, run on the super treadmill, work on plyometrics, sprint on the grass in a park close by, and even mixed martial arts. This, I told myself, was all preparation for soccer tryouts, to try to get an edge over the other guys. I even worked with the soccer trainer that Acceleration employed. However, I always knew in the back of my mind I just wasn’t good enough to make New Trier soccer team, that it just wasn’t meant to be. So what was I training for?
August 20-22, 2007, soccer tryouts:
They did not go well. I’m not sure what went wrong, although I’ve chalked it up to exercise-induced asthma, but I couldn’t breathe throughout the whole tryout. It was rough for me, and when I was cut, although not surprised, I was still heartbroken. I had played soccer my whole life, well since I was five anyway. It was the first time I had ever been cut from a team before. And I felt betrayed, screwed over, that the tryouts were unfairly biased because I had not played freshman year. Kids who played on my travel team, which I started for, had made it, why shouldn’t I make it with them? And while I’m a little ashamed to admit, after returning home, fresh with rejection I cried. To give me some credit, I did hold it together on the car ride home while car-pooling with a kid who had made it.
I was also confused. I had made my old schools JV team no problem the year previous. Why couldn’t I make it here? I felt huge resentment towards my parents. Why had they ripped me from my old home? Why had they uprooted me from my old friends? I had been comfortable in Maryland, I had great friends, been on a great school team, been on a travel team that I loved. All my anger from moving suddenly erupted like a volcano from hell. I was furious with my parents. My anger didn’t cool down for weeks. I was extremely bitter, but eventually I was ok again.
I think my question is whether or not I'm grateful for the move.
Hope your head is okay!!!!! The story seems like its really getting pulled together. I like how in your last paragraph you start to talk about the how you felt pulled away from your old community and that you felt so hurt from getting cut. I think you might be able to shorten the beginning part... with the dialogue of track... but I like the order that you wrote the story in. good job. Dont pin yourself down on that question.... but i can definitly see that working... are you going to ikeep going backwards in time... when are you going to circle back to the present?
ReplyDeleteMatt,
ReplyDeleteThis is coming together very well. You made a smooth transition from running to soccer but the connection is strong. I especially like the action you incorporate with your dialogue. Writing these sections out of order is a nice touch too. It keeps the reader guessing where the story will go next. After being rejected from soccer, will you return back to track...? It is open to go anywhere at this point and thats great. This last paragraph is definitely hitting on your question about moving. I am curious to see how "eventually I was ok again." This is great foreshadowing. Nothing I can pick out as needing work at this point except for the same comment Taylor made on the last post. I feel as if the story doesn't need your birth. Just start right in the action of your conversation with your mom, unless of course you are going back to your birth later or tying it it.
Great work!
thanks guys and haha i meant my sister fractured her skull lol
ReplyDelete