Culture - Intertwingled: Information Changes Everything - page 75

Chapter 4, Culture
“The power of authoritative knowledge is not that it is correct but that it counts.”
- Brigitte Jordan
They stride into the arena wearing the maize and blue. They are tall, strong, fast, and confident
they will conquer the world. It wasn't easy getting here, but after countless hours of practice,
weight training, and gut-busting cardio workouts, they have arrived. The price is high. It costs
thousands of dollars a year to play at this level, but without access to the best coaches, facilities,
and technologies, you might as well just go home.
It's six-thirty in the morning in January, and as I watch our fourteen year old daughter's volley-
ball team make their way to the court, my feelings are mixed. I'm not happy about waking up at
five o'clock on a Saturday to drive for an hour through the snow. A few years ago, I'd have
laughed at this elite sports scene. Now I'm a part of it. Claire is staying fit, making friends,
building self-confidence, learning teamwork.
Still, it's over the top. Our club makes me uneasy. What bothers me most is the uniforms. They
are beautiful. Since our club is run by the University of Michigan, our girls are decked out in
blue and gold. While a lot of teams satisfice with cotton t-shirts, we have personalized, light-
weight, wicking Nike jerseys with matching shorts, warm ups, and backpacks. As our girls pre-
pare to play, I can't help feeling we're on the wrong side of the tracks. And sure enough, we are
crushed by the t-shirt team, just like in the movies. Later, after a day of losses, I tell Claire not to
worry, it's the first tournament of a six-month season, the team will get better.
Of course, it was all downhill from there. Our coach was a hard-ass all season. One girl was be-
rated for not hitting hard enough. Later it turned out her finger was broken. Claire was told she
couldn't take a break even though she felt sick. Soon after she was vomiting into a bucket. The
girls were taught how to trick the referee. They were instructed to lie. The coach invited them to
voice complaints. Claire did so and found herself benched. The parents weren't any better. Our
alpha mom reduced other moms to tears, taunted the opposing teams, and paid for weekly
private lessons with the coach. This looked like pay-to-play corruption to us, but several of the
parents said that's simply how you play the game.
The next year we switched clubs. The new one was a little less expensive and a whole lot better.
When the coach told the girls it was okay to miss practice for homework, since education is more
important than volleyball, he actually meant it. When we lose a game, you won't hear a word
from our alpha mom. We don't have one. The girls practice in an old warehouse, no windows,
flickering lights. It's nothing fancy. Neither are the uniforms. And that's the way we like it. We
found our fit.