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