Wednesday, October 21, 1998
Bruin Diaries
For Bailey, practice makes perfect
By Sam Bailey
What a fabulous place. Today is my easy day. Wake up around 9
a.m. for my only class. Take a slow cruise through campus, stopping
on occasion to say hello to my friends. Find my way to a 50 minute
lecture about statistics – actually pretty interesting.
Now I sit on Bruin Walk in the shade, a soft breeze going
through the trees. Campus is packed and I’m loving it. I have two
hours until my day really begins. Until then, it’s nothing but
T-Bell and friends. Life is good.
12:30 p.m. rolls around. I begin to think about what lies ahead.
Weights at 1 p.m. I remember our last lift. That workout wasn’t
fun.
I begin this workout with some exercises that stretch me out.
Loosen me up for the hell to come. "Leg swings." I continue with
sit-ups. It seems like I do a bazillion of these a day. My
teammates and I are supposed to do about 150 per workout – however,
somehow we manage to get in an extra 100 or so fairly
regularly.
We go on … four sets of 15 pull-ups, a few reps of bench
press, couple of squats, some lunges, tricep extensions. You get
the picture. A few minutes before 2 p.m., I finish. My entire body
totally exhausted. I leave the weight room and hustle up to Sunset
Rec.
I walk onto the pool deck and see the usual scene, a couple of
lovely ladies tanning on the grass. My team and I have a quick
meeting, stretch for a couple of minutes, change and dive into
another two-and-a-half-hour practice.
Warm-up only takes about 30 minutes, but it is always a treat to
see how far you can swim in such a brief time. Today we go about
2,500 yards, a mile and a half. Most of this is done in sets of 100
yards but today is special. My teammates and I test our lung
capacity, each swimming at least two lengths under water.
"We are the fastest team on the planet," I hear one teammate
say. I can’t imagine another polo team training harder than us. I
think it’s physically impossible.
We gather into groups of four, passing with both left and right
hands, loosening out our shoulders and warming up our legs. Five
minutes later, a heavy ball is tossed to each group, and my coach
instructs me to "jump" out of the water every time the ball is
thrown my way.
Four or five times around the circle and my legs begin to tire.
It seems, once again, the squats have gotten the best of me. But
there is no time for rest. I hear my coach yell out that we aren’t
getting far enough out of the water. He wants to be able to see our
suits.
After 10 more minutes of passing and leg work, I line up in
front of the goal to take a few shots. I practice shooting from
different positions, trying to make things as close to a game
situation as possible. For example, I have another teammate press
down on my shoulders for 30 seconds, then sprint 30 meters to the
opposite goal and take five shots. This is pretty tiring, but I
happily endure it, knowing what is to come.
In the past, our team has always set Tuesdays aside for
fast-break drills, calling it "counter-Tuesday." However, during
our pre-season team meeting, we were all informed that "it is going
to be counter-everyday!"
So now, on this beautiful Wednesday afternoon, we begin
counter-attack drills. The counter-attack is a main facet of our
game, and so this "party" will continue for most of the remaining
time of our practice. Occasionally we stop and mix things up a
little by practicing our man-down defense or man-up offense.
However, it’s really nothing but head-up sprints for the next 30
minutes.
Time is winding down – 15 minutes left in practice. My eyes are
bloodshot and burn from the chlorine. I’m not sure how my shoulders
are still attached to my body. My legs don’t want to move. But in
just a bit I’ll be done for the day. Nothing left to do. Any second
now my coach will announce that practice is over. I think I can see
it on his face now. He’s taking off his whistle. This is it …
"All right, find your own space," he says.
What a pleasant treat this is, more leg work.
"Right arm up!"
I extend my right arm up out of the water and hold it there for
about 20 seconds, treading water. I’m hurting.
"Left arm…"
I switch, but there is no relief.
"Both arms…"
My legs burn. I don’t like water polo anymore. If I were a
normal student, I’d already be home, done with any school work I
had, cheering the Padres on, with a 40 oz. St. Ides in hand.
Wouldn’t that be nice.
My coach calls out, "All the other teams are done right
now."
It’s true. As much as I hate it, I want that NCAA trophy. I want
the right to call myself a champion. I want the right to say my
team is the best, no team in the nation is better.
Finally it’s 5 p.m. I have no more obligations the rest of the
day. I hop into the A-Train, my roommate’s mini-van, and rock out
to the Latin disco sounds of Jorge Ben on my way home.
I walk into my apartment and find my way to the kitchen. Looking
through the empty cabinets, I realize that tonight’s dinner is
going be another interesting mixture. I throw together some chili
and white rice, which surprisingly doesn’t taste half bad.
However, luckily for me, my roommates and I haven’t finished all
the dessert. It’s a delicious, secret recipe of mine, topped with
Cool Whip.
I claim my favorite spot on the sofa. While enjoying an after
dinner breath mint, I sit back and relax. It’s so nice. I run the
day over in my head, plan my evening, and contemplate tomorrow.
7 a.m. practice.Photos by DAVE HILL
Sam Bailey writes about his experience on the this year’s
water polo team.
Sam Bailey and his teammates listen to a prep talk before
practice.
Comments, feedback, problems?
© 1998 ASUCLA Communications Board[Home]