A ROMP IN THE HAY: Time to Fill ‘The Void’

Hello. My name is Jon Hay, and I’m a failed athlete.

Well, perhaps “failed” is too harsh of a word. Like many of you out there, I had my moments of athletic glory in high school. I dabbled in multiple sports and spent two years starting for the varsity lacrosse team. Athletics gave me highs, it gave me lows and it basically dominated my non-academic life.

Unfortunately, I—along with most Harvard students like me—have known since the day that I got accepted here that I would never be playing a high-commitment, organized sport again.

“No big deal,” I tried to convince myself as an incoming freshman. “Harvard features—based on my rough estimate from the freshman activities fair—about seven unique extracurricular activities for every one undergraduate. I’m sure we’ll all be busy with other things.”

But nothing can prepare you for The Void.

The Void. It’s the emptiness inside of you that results from the absence of something that consumed three hours a day, six days a week, for up to 40 weeks a year over four years and that’s not even including athletics before high school. As far as I can tell, if sports were a major component of your life before you came to Harvard, The Void is about as inevitable as a Saturday morning hangover after a Friday organic chemistry exam.

I’ve tried a lot of things in my efforts to fill The Void. I care about beirut enough to know my career win-loss record (it’s good). I’ve simulated so many franchise seasons in my EA Sports games that even Rickey Henderson finally retired. I own such a multitude of sports jerseys that I ended up with the nickname “Jersey Jon.” Of course, I maintain that the last laugh will be mine when I finally meet a cute girl who swoons at the sight of my authentic Paul Pierce Roswell Rayguns jersey—one of just 500 produced by Nike, thank you very much.

When none of this worked, I finally decided that, if I can’t play a sport at Harvard, I might as well comp the Crimson and write stories about the people who do.

If you haven’t tried anything to fill this emptiness yet…well, it’s time to start. It’s tough at first, I know. Suddenly, the only thing you have to show for all those years of hard work, dedication and practice is a starting spot on your intramural basketball team. And freshmen? Yeah, the fact that you’re no longer as active means that you’re going to gain that freshman fifteen. But if it’s any consolation, Milwaukee’s Best would have given you that belly eventually.

As tempting as it might be, the worst thing that you can do is to submit to The Void. If sports still matter to you, then you need to find a way to keep them in your life. Go out and toss a baseball around. Join an intramural team and bring home that Straus Cup. Or, throw on your old high school basketball jersey every few weeks and head down to the MAC for a spirited—if occasionally ugly—game of 5-on-5.

Of course, I am by no means trying to imply that replacing organized sports is as easy as simply finding other ways to stay active. In addition to the athletic aspect, sports serve as one of the few sources of competition in our lives that doesn’t involve the median and curve of our Ec 10 hourly exam. They often also provide us with a close-knit group of teammates as buddies, thereby eliminating the strain of having to form friendships using only our stereotypically limited social abilities as Harvard students.

Unfortunately, the reality is that there just aren’t a lot of opportunities at Harvard for those of us who lack a surplus of athletic ability to reap these benefits of organized athletics. For many sports, JV is not a viable option as it either takes place at too high a skill level for the “average” player (see: men’s basketball) or else is such a small commitment that few people take it seriously (see: men’s lacrosse). Many of us choose instead to play intramurals, but we generally consider ourselves lucky if our opponents even show up.

So what does this all mean? Since some of you are probably disappointed that I’m taking the place of King James and his Bible today, I should at least try to have a point. Well, as an added bonus, it appears that I have two. (You can thank me later. Cash is appreciated.)

First, if you are one of the many student-athletes at this school who is blessed with sufficient dedication, ability and motivation to be able to compete at a high level in your sport, please make sure that you cherish every moment. Even when you’re dealing with early-morning practices or difficult training, relish the fact that you are able to do what you love. Savor what you have—believe me, we know you work hard for it.

Second, if you are one of those people who find themselves with that feeling of emptiness that I am describing, just know that you are not alone. So get out there and do something about it. Grab a few buddies and start a game of football in the snow. Cheer on the Harvard varsity athletes as they take on the rest of the Ivy League. Try your hand at a new sport. Whatever you do, make sure that you keep athletics in your life in any way that you can. Fill The Void.

Hopefully I’ll see you out there.

—Staff Writer Jonathan P. Hay can be reached at hay@fas.harvard.edu. The King James Bible will return next Friday.