Stomp-Clap

Reprint from Open Diary, Spring 2000

My dream of being a cheerleader began the first time I ever saw a high school football game. However, my family moved around so much that I was never in one place long enough to give it a try. Now I was nearing the end of my first term at this small town southern school, having just transferred there as a Sophomore, and cheerleader tryouts were to be held in late spring. I knew my chances were slim as a new girl with few friends, but this was my dream and it was now or never.

Brenda and Mignon, both hometown girls and lifelong friends had quickly become my friends as well. Brenda, whose older brother Mark was a football player, had invited Mignon and me over to her house to practice the day before the tryouts were to be held. We went straight to Brenda’s from school, grabbed something to drink and headed directly out into the backyard.

Each of us had, of course, chosen the cheer we would be doing in front of tomorrow’s assembly and this would be our last opportunity to round out any rough edges. I had chosen one with particularly involved movements in order to showcase my coordination and jumps. Brenda and Mignon had likewise chosen cheers they felt would show off their particular talents.

We performed not only the cheers we planned to do for the next day’s assembly, but went on to do all the other cheers that came to mind – each of us throwing out suggestions as they came to mind and grew more rambunctious as the evening wore on.

We were having a grand time and Brenda’s brother, Mark, was a wonderful audience and added to our confidence as he exclaimed over our talents and agility. We tumbled, yelled, jumped and cheered until well after dark when it was time to head for home. We parted that evening full of hope that we were to be the three newest members of the varsity cheerleading team.

The next morning I awakened with a start remembering what day it was and full of excitement swung my legs off the side of the bed. As I stook up my knees buckled and I almost fell to the floor. I could hardly move my legs at all and bending my back was out of the question. Obviously, I had pulled something during my marathon practice session the night before and was now reduced to moving in short shuffeling steps, not being able to actually lift my feet from the floor.

The pain seemed to originate in my back and the mere thought of an arch jump caused me to slowly back up to a chair and ease down while gasping for breath. I told myself not to panic and that this would probably be gone by the time tryouts rolled around later that morning. But what if it wasn’t – what was I going to do? How was I going to try out? OH MY GOD!!!

Somehow I got ready for school and slowly made my way out of the door in time to catch my ride. I was silent the entire trip, praying that someone would call the school with a bomb threat and tryouts would be postponed. Heck, I even thought of making the call myself. But it was not to be and third period assembly was announced over the intercom as scheduled, unleashing all junior high and senior high students to funnel their way from classrooms down hallways and through the six double doors leading into the auditorium.

Meanwhile, I shuffled backstage acutely aware that the thirty or so cheerleader wannabes milling around back there had mentally crossed me off the ‘threat list’, all the while seeming sympathetic to my situation.

As everyone practiced their moves, tumbles and jumps, I was mentally checking out my options. As best I could figure…I had none. What could I do but disqualify myself? I could do no moves, jumping was out of the question and, while I certainly had a loud mouth, I couldn’t imagine that my lungs would do the trick. I didn’t want to end up being the laughing stock of the school. What was I going to do?

Through the roaring in my ears, I heard names being called and the applause as each girl completed her tryout. I stood there as if frozen until I heard my name over the loudspeaker, at which time I shuffled from behind the curtains and took my place centerstage, just as if I had moving parts.

I looked out over the assembly hall at tens of millions of upturned faces – all strangers. But wait, there was one familiar face way in the back of the hall. It was Mark. He was sitting with the rest of the football team and as my eyes met his, he slowly raised his thumb and grinned from ear to ear. What’s the matter with him, I wondered, doesn’t he know I can’t move? But he must know. I had called Brenda first thing that morning and I knew she would have told him. Nevertheless, he now had both thumbs up and was grinning even wider…if possible.

While continuing to focus on Mark, I took a deep breath and let his confidence in me surge through my veins as I shuffled up the the microphone and yelled “let’s do the Stomp-Clap”. For the uninitiated, the Stomp-Clap has no moves whatsoever and for that simple reason would never be used at a tryout. No moves – that’s why I chose it. It goes like this:

STOMP RIGHT FOOT ONCE…CLAP HANDS ONCE

STOMP RIGHT FOOT ONCE…CLAP HANDS ONCE

STOMP RIGHT FOOT ONCE…CLAP HANDS FOUR TIMES

After several repetitions and while continuing the sequence, add the following chant, matching cadence:

GO EAGLES GO…FIGHT EAGLES FIGHT…WIN EAGLES WIN… GO – FIGHT – WIN…EAGLES!!!

At a game this is repated over and over becoming increasingly louder with each repetition until it builds into a deafening crescendo with all the fans stomping and clapping in the stands completely caught up in the momentum. It can be quite intimidating to the opposing team.

On this occasion, everyone in the auditorium got into the act and the noise was deafening as the chanting increased. Finally, I gave the signal and as the last EAGLES!!! echoed off the walls of the auditorium, I leaned into the microphone and said: “This is where you picture me jumping”. Stiffly, I turned and shuffled offstage to what can only be described as an impressive applause. I smiled.

Many years have passed since that spring morning, but I still recall vividly the joy and sense of belonging I felt as I returned to that stage and stood with Brenda, Mignon and the other cheerleaders. Finally, I belonged.