My dorm room in Niagara Hall is in an interesting location. It is nearly adjacent to the soccer field, so my roommate and I have the wonderful pleasure of being able to hear anything that goes on within and around the boundaries of the stadium. On Saturday mornings, I am woken up by music being blasted through the speaker system—it’s the same couple of songs, over and over and over. To be completely honest, I don’t even set an alarm anymore, because I know what’s coming. On weekday nights and afternoons, the jarring sounds of whistles and shouts become background noise to the millions of thoughts running through my mind. The little league soccer teams are going at it, the once-calm parents suddenly becoming crazed fans who cheer on their child’s every move. I can hear all of it… and usually, I can ignore it, tune it out. But sometimes, every once in a blue moon, when I’ve got nothing else on my mind except for empty thoughts about the future, I tune in.
Listening to the soccer field is weird because there’s a whole world down there that I’m not a part of. Some kid just scored a goal, and the crowd is going wild and the announcer is screaming “What a shot!” and I’m just sitting on my bed, unable to match these sounds to any one view. The soccer field is a movie without a screen, without images—it’s just audio, because of the line of trees that blocks my view. So I sit there on my bed and listen to the Geneseo soccer team practice, listen to their coach shout out drills and listen to the shrill whistle, and I can’t help but be reminded of when I was in 6th grade, and was the star of the soccer team. Times were simpler, more innocent. I went to school the next day after a game and bragged to my friends about the goal I scored, and they all looked at me like I was some kind of celebrity. Me! But now I am one of thousands, shuffling from class to dorm, a small fish in a big pond… happy with where I am, but wistful for the days that once were. —Anne