These girls are athletes too
By: Cynthia Cannon
I’m raising a fine athlete.
My daughter, Holly, is a cheerleader.
About three years ago, Holly took me completely by surprise at the dinner table one evening. "I want to be a cheerleader, Mom," she announced, as I sort of continued eating my dinner, talking about social studies and math homework or whatever the topic was to avoid the statement at hand.
Within a few weeks, her dad accompanied her to the municipal building. Holly signed her name on the dotted line and tried on a few pleated skirts, while dad wrote a check to the rec cheering team. I remained at home contemplating this sorry state of affairs.
How could my daughter be a cheerleader? This radical feminist that I am – well, not enough to stop shaving my legs and wearing lipstick – but enough to know that I did not want my daughter shouting "rah, rah, shish-boom-bah" for a "boy" team. She must have inherited my mom’s genes, I thought. It was enough for me that my mom was a cheerleader in the mid-1950s, skirt down to her knees then, saddle shoes, the whole nine yards.
My nagging just wasn’t getting anywhere. When I asked, "Why can’t you play soccer, Holly, or how about softball?" Holly happily filled her water bottle and slipped on her wrist bands and headed for cheering practice. To add to my discontent, when friends asked the proverbial question, "What sports are your kids into this season?" I received a "huh?" or worse, they would repeat, "I asked what ‘sport’?"
It’s three years later and Sunday evening and I tuck my little girl – whose approaching 13 and not so little anymore – into her flannel covers. Soft ringlets of curls from her sweet head fall around me. I smile a lot thinking about how we rolled them in those tight curlers at the cheerleading curling party the previous evening. The cheerleaders have to wear their hair uniformly styled for competition. Holly’s team, the Hillsborough Dukes Junior Midget squad, choose to wear their hair in tiny ringlets high on top of the head.
In early October, the Dukes won the Mountain Valley Conference regional competition. On Sunday, we headed to the New Jersey State finals competition at Sovereign Bank Arena in Trenton.
The Dukes displayed great sports-woman-ship Sunday. Every build (that’s the move where one cheerleader is held high above heads on one or two feet and fly up and down) was right-on. Every back tuck, back flip, cartwheel and round-off was perfectly executed. Each dance was in step with the rhythm of the "Jock Jams" music, every smile was in place, and the Dukes’ cheers were loud enough to be heard in the cold autumn breeze outside the arena.
Yet the judges scores revealed that Howell Township and Toms River cheerleaders were more on the mark, so those teams will be advancing to the finals. Holly, informs me, too, that Toms River Angels are trained by a "professional" choreographer.
So while my girl snoozes away, dreaming about the next time she’ll put on her cheering shoes that are now tucked under the bed, and slip into that sharp red, black and white uniform, I’m feeling very proud of her.
Let me not be the last to say, "Cheerleading is a sport."
In fact, cheerleading is an amalgamation of all sports for it holds the secret to claiming any victory – positive spirit. In this sport, as in others, the players rely on each for support, both physically and emotionally.
Bridges the cheerleaders build are supported by strong biceps, hamstrings and, above all, trust. The flyer relies on her bases to cradle her fall or tragic results could follow.
The mind, body and spirit of each team player has to be in synch. One "flying Dutchman" is off and the whole team doesn’t look tight.
Cheerleading teaches us that we’ve got to actively participate in life in order to achieve positive results. In her nearly 13 years, I’ve seen Holly cheer from many different sidelines. I watched her cheer her brother, Sean, as he recovered from cancer treatments. I heard her cheer and encourage disabled kids as they play and learn at summer camp. I’ve caught her smile as she tells me to "Cheer-up, Mom," and stomp my feet with the cheerleaders at the football games.
I’m still going to wonder why cheerleaders can’t trade short skirts for sleek Adidas pants.
But next time a friend asks me about the sports my kids are playing, I’m going to stand tall at the top of the bleachers, decked in my red, white and black, and shout above the crowd, "Bring it on, Holly!, Yeah!"?
Cynthia Cannon is a Packet Staff Writer in the Lifestyle Department and an avid fan of all athletes.