At the impressionable age of 12, I stepped on the deck of Copses Family Pool for the very first time for my very first water polo practice at Harvard-Westlake. I vividly remember that day when I joined LA Premier Water Polo Club as one of the youngest players on the 14U team, and looking the part, too. And when I swam my first set, trailing behind the other players’ wake, fighting to keep up while being tossed by water, I knew I was in for a long ride.
Two years later, with a little more experience and size under my belt, I was set to join the boys water polo team, starting the summer before my freshman year. I had heard things about the head coach Brian Flacks, commonly dubbed “Brian” by the team, things that certainly frightened but also excited me. That summer was a marathon — every waking moment of my time was spent at the pool or fearing my next day at the pool.
Although Brian kept his focus on generational talents like Connor, Otto and Collin, he always gave me the time of day. I answered questions about water polo theory, scouted opposing players and filmed nearly every game, rather than sit idly and watch varsity play its games. I’d like to think that I was one of his favorite players in terms of the intangible qualities I brought to the team.
After Brian left for Stanford, I had a clean slate with Jack Grover. Although it took some time, I eventually reached a similar standing with him, doing whatever I could to support the team. But ask anyone who was there — we started to see culture issues with the team, especially in how players carried themselves outside of the pool deck. After one day of scrubbing the pool deck with my toothbrush in between running miles and planking on the track, I started to get tired of getting punished for a team that didn’t represent me.
After our team won the highest division of 16U water polo for the second time that summer, in the short offseason that took place, there was still a shift in my upbeat attitude towards the sport. I thought about whether it’d be worth it to do all these things for a team that didn’t appreciate me as much as I appreciated them. I wasn’t going to get recruited to top Ivy League schools even though I put in the same amount of time and care into the sport that they did. After enough deliberation, I chose to sever myself from the sport.
I knew I’d focus on The Chronicle more in lieu of my time spent on water polo, since I had already been involved to some degree. But when I went to cover one what would be one of my favorite stories I’d ever written, the Alive Together walk in memoriam of Trey Brown, I saw the importance of in-person reporting. My articles became so much better as a result of creating human connections.
I took this idea of reporting further when I covered the October 7 attacks and how they impacted our school. Covering a global conflict from my seemingly small position was a truly changing experience — throughout the year, I spoke to members of kibbutzim and a girl who escaped the Hamas attacks, which gave me the opportunity to communicate their stories to the community. I also had a number of memorable experiences: sneaking into the CBU arena a two-hour drive away to take pictures courtside of the CIF-SS Open Division Boys Basketball Championship, visiting college campus encampments and experiencing nearly every performing arts event the school has to offer.
And I was rewarded even more on top of these experiences. I got handed the reins of The Chronicle and got to direct an amazing group of sophomores and juniors while working with the best seniors. Last but not least, I joined an elite group of student-journalists at Northwestern University last summer, who made me who I am today and will build me for the next four years.
One of the things that scares me the most in life is the possibility that all of it could’ve been gone in a second, had I chosen to stay in water polo. There will come a point in time in all of our lives where we will grow out of our roots and have to plant ourselves somewhere else, even if that comes with uncertainty and pain. It just comes down to making that life-changing decision, and living with the consequences to pave the best path for ourselves regardless.
