The Art of Cheering

To Ashley and other cheerleaders -- past, present, actual, and otherwise -- who tirelessly smile, encourage, and say positive things against the longest odds and sometimes against the meanest conditions.

You make a difference.

In my junior year of high school the coach asked me to wrestle up a weight class. It was an honor, of sorts. It was his way of saying, "We need you. Can you do it?" But you must remember that most wrestlers have dieted down 15 or 20 pounds to begin with. Even if I weighed within ten pounds of my opponent, he would more likely be 30 pounds bigger than me on any other day.

Sure enough. When time for weigh in rolled around I stood on the scales and looked a bit scrawny and anemic next to the beast who stepped on the scales after me. My opponent, Marty Stevens, played linebacker at 195 pounds. What was he doing here at 168? He went on to win the state championship 2 months later. Suffice it to say my own season did not go that far.

The match began with the shrill of the referee's whistle and for six eternal minutes Marty Stevens mopped up the mat with me. You need to know that I was a pretty fair wrestler. What, you think I protest too much? But fair or not, I was far from the caliber that Marty was that day.

I would like to say that I gave Marty more of a match than much of his competition that year. But since he beat me 13 - 1 its hard to say I gave him too much of a fight. It was a brutal match of which my coach would later say, "You learn more from defeat than from victory." Yeah. So I must be 10 times smarter than Marty Stevens, right?

After the match I threw my headgear in disgust and went and sat by myself. There's nothing like a good pity party to make you feel better. I was doing a pretty good job wallowing in my own self loathing until Lisa Niemeyer came bouncing over. "Jeff, you were great!" She gleamed.

Oh, gag me! Was she smoking dope? Was she on some kind of mind altering drug? What match had she been watching? I just got my butt kicked 13-1 and she's telling me I did great? Was she talking about how good I looked in tights? My ability to hold my breath? The fact that Marty couldn't pin me? What exactly was she talking about when she said, "Jeff, you did great"?

Lisa was a cheerleader, all 5 feet, two inches of her. She was incurably, indellibly, even obnoxiously cute: Ear to ear smile; deep blue eyes; and cheery -- very, very cheery. Even as I sneered at her she kept smiling. "I thought you were going to win!" She said. "Win what? The lottery?"

I don't know how the rest of the conversation went. I remember her sitting down next to me. I remember thinking that was pretty cool. And somewhere in those few adolescent moments with someone kind of nice I didn't feel quite so bad anymore. Lisa took the time to smile. To listen.

I think sometimes cheerleaders, and people like them, get a bum rap for being positive and encouraging against long odds and mean conditions. I had just got my butt kicked. What should she have said, "You suck"?

Truth is, we live in a world that says "you suck" even when you are pretty good. We criticize teachers and coaches, pastors and doctors, and the minimum wage waitress at the local Applebee's. You can be a pretty good student, a pretty good athlete, or a pretty good this or that and still feel pretty lousy at the hands and comments of many you meet today. Somehow some have been led to believe that we are being "critical thinkers" by being critical.

I don't think so. I think it takes a creative, engaging, and energizing thinker to be positive and encouraging in the midst of trying and difficult times. I think it is courageous to smile when others don't. I think it is hard to be hopeful in the midst of unhappy people. And I am grateful when people are. I am glad Lisa weathered the storm. I am glad she endured my pouty disposition. I am glad she said, "You did great" against a greater opponent. I wrestled the state champion and scored a point. She stepped up and as much as said, "I am proud of you." Lisa is the champion.

I have a friend who was a cheerleader in high school -- and still is today. Oh, she doesn't do cartwheels and handsprings anymore; I don't think, anyway. But when she meets you she smiles. She asks how you are doing. She shows interest. She is positive and encouraging in a world that isn't always that way. She is hopeful when others are hurting. She is a cheerleader. And I think she is great (If you are reading this you can smile!).

Here's a mountain man challenge. Are you up to it? Iron your pleats and fluff up your pom poms. It's easy to cheer when the team is winning. Let's hear you cheer when the team is losing. It's easy to cheer for a champion. Let's hear you cheer for everyone else, too. It's easy to smile when everything is great. How can you, by your smile, help someone feel better than they do?

I love you. See you on the mountains. Jeff