With first semester rapidly coming to a close and life after college only several short months away for us seniors, you begin to hear certain things more and more frequently. For instance, “It’ll be strange not starting the weekend on Wednesday” or “Where will I get free beer or wine five nights a week?” I’m thankful that I won’t know the answer for another semester, because coming to terms with the end of college life may be almost as difficult as accepting another harsh truth about getting older. Proceed with caution.

While perusing the course catalog before registering for classes for my final semester, which is already a little scary, I came across an interesting looking gym class. It was called SPARQ (speed, power, agility, reaction, and quickness) training, and it seemed like a perfect class for any people who fancy themselves athletes. There was a fee for the course, however, so I mulled it over for a couple hours. After a few beers and a glance at my bank account balance, I decided that I had no reason to get fast. Of course I’d like to stay in good shape, but I don’t really need to run with parachutes or improve my lateral quickness or any of that. I then became very sad.

I’ve always lived somewhat vicariously through professional athletes, emulating their batting stances or touchdown dances, but I’ve become much more interested in the day to day goings-on in the sports world, on the field and off, since coming to college. Sports news/highlights used to be about even with Facebook and bad television in my procrastination hierarchy, but sports has gradually pulled away from the rest. All of the games and practices I had to go to in high school helped me achieve the proper pro sports-my sports balance, which I’ve since lost. I’ll play soccer on Walker beach from time to time and the occasional intramural game, but even now, three and a half years removed from high school, I often feel as if there’s something missing in my life.

Among those as intellectually enlightened as most Pomona College students, admitting one’s admiration or envy for “dumb” athletes can be met with ridicule, as if athletics is more of a hobby than a worthy lifelong aspiration. Even so, it’s been several Pomona students, and watching them come to the sad realization that their most serious sporting days are behind them, who have helped me understand the extent to which I’ve missed organized sports since leaving high school. I’m reminded of a particularly fiery recent Pomona graduate (let’s call him Vladimir) and his on-field antics during a game of recreational baseball last year. He was on the eve of graduation and noticeably upset by the prospect of life without his favorite pastime. After a somewhat controversial call (which had absolutely nothing to do with him, as he was on the bench at the time), Vladimir jumped to his feet, yelled “This is all I have left!”, and charged at the players involved in the dispute. I laughed about it then, about how serious and emotional he was, but I’m beginning to realize that perhaps Vlad was on to something.

A few days a heart-breaking defeat to Redlands in the first round of the SCIAC playoffs, I kicked the soccer ball around with a senior member of the men’s soccer team. He was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he would never attend another practice or never again feel the pregame nerves in the dressing room, and it was clearly an emotional time for him. Seeing that brought me back four years, when I was in a similar situation but never really acknowledged the fact that it was over. I didn’t get it then, I didn’t get it after watching Vladimir’s outburst, but I’m starting to get it now. I’ve got my entire life in front of me, and infinite opportunities to do something special, but in a way it feels like my life ended four years ago.