2B — Monday, April 16, 2018
SportsMonday
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
I’d give anything
I
’m the baby of the family — by
a large margin.
Janet
is 40. Vinnie
is 37. TJ is 34.
Mike is 33.
James is 29.
And growing
up, I wanted
to be just like
them.
When I was
eight years
old, I asked
my dad to buy
me a soccer jersey — not Ronald-
inho’s, not Thierry Henry’s, not
Wayne Rooney’s. No, I wanted a
Rockville Centre Nitro jersey. That
was James’ travel team. And when
my dad asked me what number I
wanted on the back, I told him 23.
That was James’ number.
Two years later, when I made
my own travel team, it came time
to pick my own number. I wasn’t
allowed to choose anything below
25, so I chose 31. Janet wore 13. I
wanted to play like her.
And two years after that, I start-
ed playing basketball.
Mike decided I needed to learn
how to shoot a proper jumpshot.
So he took me out in the backyard
one day and forced me to copy his
jumper over and over and over
again.
Our hoop hung above our
garage. I hit that garage more than
I hit the rim. I went inside whin-
ing about how it was too hard, and
then I copied his jumper every day
after — or at least tried to. I was
better at rebounding than shoot-
ing, to put it lightly.
Even that skill, inadvertently,
was the product of my siblings’
creation.
About a year after trying to emu-
late that jumper, my mom woke
me up for school. I showered, put
on my St. Agnes uniform and went
downstairs, only to see that the
clock was 20 minutes ahead of my
normal routine.
My mom walked into the living
room and told me to grab a bas-
ketball, put on my coat and come
outside. I met my mom on the pave-
ment, and she told me to shoot.
As soon as the ball left my fin-
gers, my mom was crouched down,
backing me further and further
away from the rim. I asked her
what she was doing, and she told
me she was sick of seeing me get
outrebounded in rec league even
though I was taller than all of my
siblings.
Then she took the ball, and told
me we weren’t going to school until
I boxed her out like TJ used to.
As for Vin, well, baseball was his
sport. I have no shame in admitting
I might have set a record for Little
League strikeouts. But one day he
walked in the door and asked me
how I was. I told him I was good,
end of sentence. Then came the
sarcasm that I’ve gotten used to
— “I’m doing good too, thanks for
asking.”
I was nine. I haven’t failed to ask
someone how they’re doing since.
I tell you all of this so that you
can understand why my plan was
never to end up in Ann Arbor.
As I grew older, the admiration
for my siblings materialized in
different ways. As a junior in high
school, it just so happened to mani-
fest itself in my college application
process.
Vinnie and TJ had gone to Cor-
nell, so I wanted to go there too. I
told my guidance counselor I was
applying there early decision. That
wasn’t good enough for him, so he
rattled off a list of colleges I should
also plan on applying to.
Eventually, he told me to con-
sider Michigan.
I was incredulous. Michigan
was a “sports school,” I told him.
Then he showed me the average
SAT score of admitted students,
and I realized how wrong I was.
I think Mr. Moss would laugh at
me now. I never got into Cornell. I
came to Michigan, and joined The
Daily a month into my freshman
year. I’ve been writing about a
“sports school” ever since.
***
Before I decided to come here,
my dad and I ended up visiting Ann
Arbor in the middle of my senior
year.
After our campus tour, he pulled
the rental car out of what was a for-
eign parking structure and turned
right on to what was a foreign
street.
Coincidentially, as he stopped
at the first intersection, I told
him that maybe I could write
for the business section of the
school newspaper. It was a passing
thought.
Now I know there is no editorial
business section at the Daily. Now
I know that was the intersection of
Maynard and East William. Now
I know that if he drove straight,
I would have seen 420 Maynard
about seven months prior.
But he turned left, and we
watched the Michigan basketball
team play in the Big Ten Tourna-
ment at Cantina. I never imagined
covering that same tournament
three years later or going to a bar to
write about that same team a year
after that, and I realize now why
an 18-year-old with braces and his
dad were getting funny looks.
When I got home, I was still
apprehensive about going to col-
lege so far away from New York.
My siblings told me to go, to enjoy
a big-university experience that
they had never had. I put off the
decision as long as possible, then
told my dad on the drive back from
visiting SUNY Binghamton that I
was going to Michigan.
***
I arrived in Ann Arbor with
a new plan: I was going to join
a fraternity, enjoy the college
experience and apply to the Ross
School of Business.
By the end of September, I
had a C in Econ 101, and I hadn’t
received a bid to a fraternity.
Desperate for a way to fill my
time, I stumbled upon the contact
information for the sports editors
at The Daily.
I typed up an email that I now
know was too formal. I attached a
resume. I explained that I’d never
written for a newspaper, but I’d
really appreciate an interview.
I got a response from Greg at
2 a.m., which now makes perfect
sense to me.
“Just come to a meeting this
Sunday, there’s no application,”
it read.
I went to that meeting, found
Greg, was ushered into a confer-
ence room full of strangers, and
the icebreaker began. The third
person to speak enlightened us
about how he/she had received
a hickey the size of a tennis ball
that weekend. One guy was wear-
ing a suit and tie (Hey, Jake).
I questioned what I was get-
ting myself into, until I didn’t. As
the icebreaker moved on, I real-
ized I was surrounded by some
characters. They were weird, but
in the best way. I knew this was
a community I wanted to be a
part of.
I didn’t know then that the
same community would teach
me chairmonkey, land me inside
the National Cowboy & Western
Heritage Museum in Oklahoma
City, thrust me into Wild Tymes
in St. Paul, make me fall in love
with Lincoln, introduce me to
Kansas City barbecue, send me to
Tampa to cover a bowl game, or
allow me to find some some of my
best friends.
But here we are.
***
I called my parents this
November.
I started crying like a baby.
I had two papers and a pre-
sentation due the next day, one of
which was already late.
I hadn’t had time to work on
them, because I’d been working
at The Daily all week.
I told them I wanted this to be
over.
My mom said everything
would be ok. My dad said it would
be over soon.
When I was a freshman, I
told them I wanted to chase this
newspaper thing as far as it could
go. They both gave me their sup-
port. They’ve done so countless
times since. And I couldn’t have
done any of this without them.
But there I was on some
November night, letting stress
consume me enough that I
uttered six words I never imag-
ined saying in my life.
I want this to be over.
The notion seems blasphemous
to me now.
Because it is over.
And I’d give anything for
Janet, or Vinnie, or TJ, or Mike
or James to have gone here, so
I would have never questioned
coming here myself.
And I’d give anything for
Mr. Moss to have told me about
Michigan’s student newspaper in
his office that day, so I could have
emailed the sports editors earlier.
And I’d give anything for my
dad to have driven straight, so I
could have seen this building an
extra time.
And I’d give anything to know
I wasn’t getting into a fraternity
the first day I stepped on campus,
so I could have walked into this
newsroom sooner.
And I’d give anything to take
back that phone call, if it meant I
had just one more day.
Santo can be reached by email at
kmsanto@umich.edu or on Twitter
@Kevin_M_Santo. He wants Meg
to know she deserves a column too.
And he wants to thank anyone who
has ever read one of his stories.
COURTESY OF THE SANTO FAMILY
Kevin Santo always wanted to be like his older siblings growing up.
KEVIN
SANTO
One of the girls
I
thought I would always be one
of the guys.
Grow-
ing up, that’s
what every-
one said
about me. My
guy friends
who wanted
me to know
that I was just
like them,
and my girl
friends who
wanted me to know that I wasn’t.
Everyone knew me as the girl
who loved sports. So naturally,
that’s how I began to see myself.
But as much as that was true, I
couldn’t shake the feeling that
there was something wrong with
me.
Paired with the joy of playing
soccer at Catalpa Park with my
dad, playing basketball with the
guys after church and playing
catch with my brother in the front
yard was the anxiety of arranged
playdates with girls my age, icy
glares down the school hallway
and awkward mistakes about my
gender.
While it would have been easier
to write about the first three, that’s
not what this story is about. In all
honesty, if I were a boy, it likely
would have been. But as a girl in
a boy’s world, it’s more important
for me to elaborate on the latter
three. They are the ones that stick
with me to this day, and not in a
good way.
***
I used to have so much trouble
with girls that it would have made
more sense if I were a boy.
When I say that all of my friends
were guys up until high school,
I’m not exaggerating. I wasn’t pur-
posely avoiding girls. I just didn’t
have anything to say around them.
All the girls I knew only wanted to
talk about shopping, clothes and
makeup. They weren’t shallow. We
just had different interests.
The more I hung out with them,
the more I felt invisible. I couldn’t
add to the conversation, because
I didn’t know how. So I kept to
myself, and the group kept going.
In those moments of uncomfort-
able silence, I began to wonder if
I was supposed to be interested in
those things, too.
I still remember when, at the
age of 10, my mom told me that
one of the other parents had said
it would be good for me to spend
more time with girls instead of
boys. But she didn’t explain why,
and at the time, I didn’t under-
stand either.
In middle school, I was the
only girl who wore pants instead
of a skirt for our school uniform,
and who kept my hair in braids
or a ponytail instead of wearing it
down. I didn’t think much of those
choices back then. I just wanted
to play outside with the guys at
recess.
I didn’t just play sports with
them, though. I could keep up
with them in conversations about
sports, too. I spent most of my free
time as a child watching soccer,
basketball, football and baseball.
I started with the professional
teams from my hometown of
Detroit, and then learned about
the national scene by reading a lot
of stories on ESPN and viewing
many hours of SportsCenter.
My standing as a genuine fan
allowed me to gain the respect of
the guys, along with acceptance
into their group. So instead of
walking from class to class with
my best girl friend, I strolled down
the hallway with my guys.
The move wasn’t received very
well. I still remember how my
body tensed up as I saw those
girls staring at me disapprovingly.
One of my guy friends told me not
to worry because they were just
jealous. I didn’t understand that
either.
Now, I think I do. Gender roles
are so quickly ingrained in us
that we try to enforce them in
ourselves and each other before
we hit puberty. I think those girls
thought they were trying to help
me.
So did the older gentleman who
saw my guy friends and I having
a snowball fight in the parking lot
one winter day.
I was still a child at the time,
and I was wearing a hat that cov-
ered my hair. He saw two of my
friends double-teaming me and
happened to yell toward my broth-
er that he should come rescue the
other little boy.
I froze. My brother looked at
me. I’ve never seen him look so
defeated. As he told the man that
I was his little sister, I ran inside
and cried.
***
When I joined The Daily fresh-
man year, I thought it would be
easy to be the girl among guys.
I went to every weekly section
meeting during my first semester,
but I didn’t pick up any stories.
During my second semester, I
stopped coming to meetings alto-
gether. It took until March, when
I received an email from the Man-
aging Sports Editors at the time,
for me to come back and write my
first story.
I always tell people that I start-
ed my Daily career late because of
a tough academic course load and
a leadership position in another
student organization, but I’ve left
out a key detail until now.
I had been around guys my
whole life, but I soon discovered
that my experience couldn’t com-
pare to joining a 40-person staff
with maybe four girls in the room.
As I moved up the ladder,
becoming a beat writer and an edi-
tor, I kept noticing the disparity
and its subsequent effects. In four
years, there has been only one time
that two girls have worked togeth-
er on one of our six beats. And I’ve
seen many four-man beats. There
has also been only one time that
two girls became two of our six
senior editors simultaneously. And
I’ve seen more than one shutout.
The more I noticed it, the more
I felt like the odd one out. There
was only one other girl for me to
look up to, and I needed her to help
me see how far my career could
progress. I followed in her foot-
steps on the softball, men’s bas-
ketball and football beats, and for
two months, we were even senior
editors together.
Kelly took me under her wing
and finally gave me a sense of
belonging. Because of her, I real-
ized how important it is to have a
mentor who helps you grow into
who you are meant to be.
So when I became the Co-
Managing Sports Editor, I wanted
to help move the culture in the
right direction and do that for the
girls who came after me. And I’ll
be honest, I didn’t always succeed.
But in the four years I have been
here, the future has never looked
so bright.
Next year, there will be eight
women consistently contribut-
ing to what we affectionately call
the best college sports section in
the country. Three of them will
be senior editors together. That
might not seem like much just by
the numbers — even though one-
fifth beats one-tenth any day of
the week — but when you know
them like I do, it’s easier to under-
stand.
Laney, you have a heart of gold.
Paige, you are a fierce soul. Anna,
you have the brightest disposition.
Aria, you are full of ambition.
Sarah, you have more potential
than you know. Maya, you have
turned into a pro. Jodi, you are
improving every day. Bailey, you
are well on your way.
I’ve loved being your leader
as much as I’ve loved leading the
whole section. Keep moving in
the right direction.
***
The Daily has done so much
more for me than I could have
ever imagined, and I could have
written this whole column about
the incredible experiences I’ve
had from a sports perspective.
But I don’t know the next time
a woman will be writing these
biweekly columns, so this is the
story I knew I needed to tell.
The greatest gift The Daily has
given me is the understanding
that there was nothing wrong
with me after all. This community
of girls has shown me that.
There is more work to be done,
but my work here is done.
I thought I would always be
one of the guys. But now, I’m
finally one of the girls.
Ashame would like to thank
everyone who read her stories
throughout her Daily career.
You helped the girl who loved
sports believe in the power of
her voice. She can be reached
at ashabete@umich.edu or on
Twitter @betelhem_ashame.
COURTESY OF THE ASHAME FAMILY
Since before she can remember, Betelhem Ashame has been the girl who loved sports.
BETELHEM
ASHAME