Things only a sports team fresher would know
Started from the bottom and still here
Somehow, my first year at university has almost come to an end. But more importantly, as of September, I will no longer be a sports fresher. From the first social as VK virgin, to finishing the year a SU night addict and with marginally better chat, I decided to put to paper what being a silly fresher has taught me.
Never has the term ‘it’s only first year’ been more relevant
Tuesday evening studying Italian literature, or putting together a half time dance routine for tomorrow’s match? Not a hard decision. Soon your course takes a back seat behind all-important Wednesdays and notorious fresher challenges. Presentation on a Thursday morning? Oh please. With a hand from last night’s snakey b, you’re practically teaching the lecturer about democracy in Europe (which after sobering up by 2pm, makes you question if anything that left your mouth was comprehensible). As for missing that Spanish seminar every Wednesday because it clashed with matches… well, lo siento, pero no lo siento.
Anyone seen my dignity?
If you get embarrassed easily, just don’t even bother with any big sport at university. Despite your best efforts to disappear under your seat on the bus, you will be made to sing a version of ABBA with headphones on, that will result in pulling zero of the guys in earshot. Or a personal favourite, walk around the streets of Italy with a vagina painted on your face, complete with sanitary towels as hair accessories and tampons up your nose. ‘Character building’ I believe is the term. And that stuff is relatively tame.
You talk about your sport 90 per cent of the time…
…even when you don’t mean to. You’re chatting with your mates about drunken stories when someone remembers that time their friend from school wet themselves. You pipe up about your mate who did exactly the same and how funny it was on tour.. oh wait, there it is again. Cue the eye rolls. There’s just no way of avoiding it. Your best nights out/drunken antics are either at sport socials or involving sport people. Your flatmates have nodded along to you banging on about what happened last Wednesday and practically know everything about your team. Or a little too well, particularly when they start getting off with your captain in front of you. No thanks.
Thursday is a write-off
Literally who came up with the idea to put sports matches followed by the messiest night of the week, ON A WEDNESDAY? Any respectable sportsman/woman knows that Thursdays are a no-go. By the end of the year, you realise how much of a bloody hero you were making almost every one of those two hour Spanish history lectures at 9am in first semester, with VKs still 100 per cent in your system. Plus you appreciate how being on campus is the absolute dream on a Thursday, rolling out of bed for your 11.15am ten minutes before. #Winning.
People who don’t do a sport… just how?
Students come to university and just do their course? Seriously? How do you make friends with people outside your flat and course? I just don’t get it. Even if you lack any sporting skill, there will be a team at your level. Or if you don’t want to socialise, at least turn up to matches. And for those who cannot face the thought of beveraging, whilst you’re missing out on a good game of Amy Winehands, freshers are never physically forced to drink alcohol (safety) and plenty of sober sports players rock up to socials with their four pints of milk. Delicious.
Side note: don’t get with another fresher
OK, actually just don’t tell anyone about it. Seriously. That shit will come back to haunt you when you socialise with his team.
Despite everything, you’re probably going to miss it
Yep, I may be getting ahead of myself, but the thought of not turning up to next year’s socials with that nervous excitement of wondering what I will be made to beverage, or humiliating questions I will be asked, kind of makes me sad. OK, eating scotch bonnets I won’t miss, but having my Wednesday evening planned for me, resulting in hilarious stories and being too drunk for my own good is the highlight of my week. So to next year’s fresh: make the most of the best part of university whilst your degree doesn’t count. Oh, and watch out, because next year I’m a senior. And I will probably make your life hell.