My little sister, Christa, turned 23 yesterday and possibly got the best birthday present her or me could ask for - a come-from-behind series clinching victory by the Penguins followed by a 10-1 Pirate triumph in San Diego. OK, maybe this is my idea of a perfect birthday present, but I know that it made her day just a little more memorable.
For the 23 years that Christa has been tugging at my side, we've had our fare share of spats and injustices wrongfully writhed upon each of us by the other. Then we both turned double-digits in years, and that was over with. But most of these conflicts centered around two main pet peeves of mine: when she would sing in the car and when she would do something wrong in athletics.
Growing up, Christa had a tremendous athletic up-side and it's something that I truly envied, if not was jealous of. I remember helping teach her things like dribbling a basketball, learning breaststroke, shooting with your left foot - all things that never came naturally to me. Christa picked them up like learning to use the correct side of a pencil. By the time she was seven or so, she was playing baseball on a boys' team, setting records on our swim teams, and scoring goals on travel soccer teams. I had a very difficult time embracing the idea my parents fed into me that she was just trying to be like her big brother. If that were the case, she would stop winning so much. Christa had always rolled to the beat of an up-tempo drum. Everything that she participated in was at a swift pace. She has not slowed down since winning the belly-flop contest at Chapel Gate for 13 straight season. If people got in her way, she would quickly put them in their place. Just ask the gentlemen that she beat-up from grades 2-8 (conversely to girls beating me up at the same level.)
Christa and I lived very active lifestyles and were constantly on the go, rarely overlapping schedules directly but always on each other’s radar. I believe the turning point or season in the brother- sister bond came during my first ever head coaching position with the Chapel Gate Gators. I had just graduated high school and Christa had just turned 13 the previous April, which meant she moved-up in age groups on every level. Christa was a celebrity at our summer pool for her quick wit and quicker strokes and on frequent occasions, was called upon to snatch a victory for the Gators in any of the events. She would always swim breaststroke in the medley relays or IMs and would put on a show for the spectators. I was never one to whistle or whoop and holler at/for Christa when she swam, and I was approached about this by more than a few members of the team and parents. "Why don't you cheer for your sister?" that would ask.
"Because when I cheer for her, she goes slower," I would respond. That usually ended the conversation.
You have to understand that being a Gator coach meant being the clerk of course AND the card distributor AND the sheep rancher all in one. In our team area, the first 20 events or so looked like Macy's on the day after Thanksgiving. Cara, Juliann and I would take turns actually watching the meet, so many times, when the fireworks were ignited between the lanes, we were pulling an 8-year old boy from under a picnic table. On those occasions when I did get to watch Christa, I would just notice how strong she was or how she caught up to a 16-year old in a relay I put her in because no one else would swim it. She truly was a treat to watch.
From that summer, Christa and I have carried this mutual respect and admiration for what the other accomplishes and pursues. She got on my back during my graduation from William and Mary just as I gave her a surprise visit at the University of Indiana She was there for me during the frigid cold of the Detroit Marathon just as I was there for her during her senior season at Toledo for the conference championships. And now, even as athletics remain paramount in each of our lifestyles, we continue to understand each other’s priorities – Steelers, Pirates, Penguins, Panthers – in no particular order. Just this season, I would get home late from practice turn on the Pitt game, and…wait a minute…who’s that behind the visitors’ bench on national television? Oh that Christa; she makes me proud…hasn’t slowed down one bit.
So here’s to Christa, the best sister a brother with diminishing athletic talents, teetering on the brink of unintelligence could have. I’m sure I’ll write again when she turns 24 – still moving at 100mph.
1 comment:
She sounds AWESOME
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