Granny5
02-12-2008, 11:05 AM
Like every little girl that grew up during the time I grew up, I dreamed of being a cheerleader. At the school I attended, the only team sports for a girl were softball in the summer and cheerleading in the fall and winter. Cheerleaders were always so cute, popular, and, well, cheery. Plus they got to go to all the basketball games. All the young girls in my neighborhood practiced in the afternoon and all summer long and each of us hoped that we would be the lucky one to be chosen to do our perfect splits and Herky Jerks on the court with the whole school watching and all the younger girls wishing they could be just like us.
At my school cheerleaders started their career in the sixth grade. Cheerleaders were not selected because of their abilities but they were elected by their peers. If you were well liked but looked and moved like a water buffalo, you could be a cheerleader. If you were a snob and could do the perfect cheer, you might as well forget it. Anyway, I was elected on the first round of votes and I was thrilled. My Mother was thrilled too. I was excused from some chores so I could meet with the other five girls and practice. She made sure my green, pleated skirt was just the right length, my white camp shirt was starched and ironed perfectly, my black and white saddle oxfords were polished, and my curly hair was shiny, bouncy, and perfect. Then she sent me off to my first basketball game.
I did great! We all did. With our outstanding cheering and fabulous splits, we lead our team to victory. We all just knew our cheers were the reason for the victory. Without us, the team would have never been able to win. We were heroes. And we were popular and the center of attention for a while. It was pretty awesome.
Our next game was an away game; 15 miles East in the even smaller town of Leachville.
We practiced very hard because Leachville had a very good team and eight cheerleaders for their 6th grade squad. We would have to do our best if we were going to lead our team to victory again. We spent the week practicing our usual cheers and trying to come up with new ones. We worked very hard because we just knew we were the backbone of the team.
Each cheerleading squad took turns doing cheers at the quarter and at half time. Our first cheer was Hello. We’d dance our choreographed little dance and our jumps and spin around, each in turn, throw our arms out and wave and yell our name. It was a wonderful cheer for the time. We were all excited and a little nervous about our first away game.
I wasn’t allowed to ride the bus with the team so I rode to the game with my oldest brother and my third brother and his friend. His friend was the cutest boy in the seventh grade and the boy I just knew I was in love with. He had dark hair and the most beautiful eyes in the world. His name was Ronnie and in my dreams, he loved me too.
The cheerleading squad stood on the sidelines clapping and yelling for our boys, doing some Herky Jerks and occasionally a split or two to warm up for our Hello cheer at the quarter. I was the tallest on the squad so I always stood at the end of the lineup when we did Hello. Otherwise, I was in the middle and the shorter girls stood on either side of me in descending order. We all knew our cheers by heart so we watched the game and the crowd and waited. Up in the stands were my brothers and Ronnie waving and trying to give me the support they thought I needed to do well. What I saw was Ronnie flirting with me. I was so much in love.
At the quarter, we waited until the home squad had finished their two cheers and then we took the court. We did our little dance and, one by one, did a jerk, spun around so that our green bloomers showed, threw up our arms, waved, and yelled out our name. I waited for Debbie, who stood next to me in line, to yell “Debbie” then I did my jerk, spun, threw up my arm, and yelled “Debbie”…..
I didn’t even notice until Debbie sort of whispered, “You’re Sandy.” So I did another jerk, spun around, threw my arm out and yelled, “I mean Sandy!” and waved, just like nothing was wrong.
I finished the game without another incident, maintaining the attitude that nothing wrong had happened. I had the perfect splits and jumps throughout the rest of the game.
But Ronnie and my brothers were cracking up. Throughout the rest of the game, every time I’d look up in the stands at them, they were holding their sides and laughing. I don’t even remember who won the game. None of the other girls said a word about it. It could have easily have been one of them who messed up the cheer
Nothing was said in the car ride home, either. I think my oldest brother must have put his foot down about the other two being mean to me. But as soon as we got home they couldn’t wait to tell the rest of my family what had happened. My Mother was horrified! If I was so nervous that I’d forgotten my name, what would being a cheerleader do to my nerves if I was allowed to do it for the whole season? She just couldn’t put my psyche through such trauma. So the next day, after speaking to the cheerleading sponsor, she gathered my cheerleading pompoms, my cute, green, pleated skirt, and my starched, white camp shirt and took them to the girl who got the seventh number of votes.
School was never the same. I don’t remember attending another basketball game until I was in high school. When asked later in life if I was ever a cheerleader, I’d always say no. It was too hard to explain how I was for such a very short time.
I saw Debbie years later when she was in Memphis to attend the first Arkansas State/Memphis State football game. We ran into each other in a restaurant near Memphis State. She was with her boyfriend whom I’d never met. When she introduced us, she said,
“This is Sandy. I went to school with her. Remember the story I told you about the cheerleader who forgot her name?”
At my school cheerleaders started their career in the sixth grade. Cheerleaders were not selected because of their abilities but they were elected by their peers. If you were well liked but looked and moved like a water buffalo, you could be a cheerleader. If you were a snob and could do the perfect cheer, you might as well forget it. Anyway, I was elected on the first round of votes and I was thrilled. My Mother was thrilled too. I was excused from some chores so I could meet with the other five girls and practice. She made sure my green, pleated skirt was just the right length, my white camp shirt was starched and ironed perfectly, my black and white saddle oxfords were polished, and my curly hair was shiny, bouncy, and perfect. Then she sent me off to my first basketball game.
I did great! We all did. With our outstanding cheering and fabulous splits, we lead our team to victory. We all just knew our cheers were the reason for the victory. Without us, the team would have never been able to win. We were heroes. And we were popular and the center of attention for a while. It was pretty awesome.
Our next game was an away game; 15 miles East in the even smaller town of Leachville.
We practiced very hard because Leachville had a very good team and eight cheerleaders for their 6th grade squad. We would have to do our best if we were going to lead our team to victory again. We spent the week practicing our usual cheers and trying to come up with new ones. We worked very hard because we just knew we were the backbone of the team.
Each cheerleading squad took turns doing cheers at the quarter and at half time. Our first cheer was Hello. We’d dance our choreographed little dance and our jumps and spin around, each in turn, throw our arms out and wave and yell our name. It was a wonderful cheer for the time. We were all excited and a little nervous about our first away game.
I wasn’t allowed to ride the bus with the team so I rode to the game with my oldest brother and my third brother and his friend. His friend was the cutest boy in the seventh grade and the boy I just knew I was in love with. He had dark hair and the most beautiful eyes in the world. His name was Ronnie and in my dreams, he loved me too.
The cheerleading squad stood on the sidelines clapping and yelling for our boys, doing some Herky Jerks and occasionally a split or two to warm up for our Hello cheer at the quarter. I was the tallest on the squad so I always stood at the end of the lineup when we did Hello. Otherwise, I was in the middle and the shorter girls stood on either side of me in descending order. We all knew our cheers by heart so we watched the game and the crowd and waited. Up in the stands were my brothers and Ronnie waving and trying to give me the support they thought I needed to do well. What I saw was Ronnie flirting with me. I was so much in love.
At the quarter, we waited until the home squad had finished their two cheers and then we took the court. We did our little dance and, one by one, did a jerk, spun around so that our green bloomers showed, threw up our arms, waved, and yelled out our name. I waited for Debbie, who stood next to me in line, to yell “Debbie” then I did my jerk, spun, threw up my arm, and yelled “Debbie”…..
I didn’t even notice until Debbie sort of whispered, “You’re Sandy.” So I did another jerk, spun around, threw my arm out and yelled, “I mean Sandy!” and waved, just like nothing was wrong.
I finished the game without another incident, maintaining the attitude that nothing wrong had happened. I had the perfect splits and jumps throughout the rest of the game.
But Ronnie and my brothers were cracking up. Throughout the rest of the game, every time I’d look up in the stands at them, they were holding their sides and laughing. I don’t even remember who won the game. None of the other girls said a word about it. It could have easily have been one of them who messed up the cheer
Nothing was said in the car ride home, either. I think my oldest brother must have put his foot down about the other two being mean to me. But as soon as we got home they couldn’t wait to tell the rest of my family what had happened. My Mother was horrified! If I was so nervous that I’d forgotten my name, what would being a cheerleader do to my nerves if I was allowed to do it for the whole season? She just couldn’t put my psyche through such trauma. So the next day, after speaking to the cheerleading sponsor, she gathered my cheerleading pompoms, my cute, green, pleated skirt, and my starched, white camp shirt and took them to the girl who got the seventh number of votes.
School was never the same. I don’t remember attending another basketball game until I was in high school. When asked later in life if I was ever a cheerleader, I’d always say no. It was too hard to explain how I was for such a very short time.
I saw Debbie years later when she was in Memphis to attend the first Arkansas State/Memphis State football game. We ran into each other in a restaurant near Memphis State. She was with her boyfriend whom I’d never met. When she introduced us, she said,
“This is Sandy. I went to school with her. Remember the story I told you about the cheerleader who forgot her name?”