Now, I’m what might be called a big and tall kid. In seventh grade, that’s a name no one would’ve given me. Small and shrimpy made a much more appropriate nickname then. Which makes it all the more curious that that was when I decided to join a water polo club team.

Of course, when I say “decided” I mean my mother and I “agreed” that it was “best” for me, despite the very real risk of broken or missing limbs.

For those who are unfamiliar with it, allow me to describe. You take the violence of rugby and football, add a pinch of the format of soccer, throw in a few cups of wrestling, mix well and toss it all in a pool; that’s water polo. In short, a game geared towards the physically well-equipped, not so much for a seventh grader whose only experience with puberty up to this point had been the voice cracks.

Anyway, my mom and I agreed that it would be a good idea to join a water polo team, so on Tuesdays and Thursdays we drove from Chandler to Mesa so I could play with the youngest team available to me. This team included some senior boys who were going into the Coast Guard Academy, a tank of a junior girl who now plays for ASU, twin sophomores who delighted in comparing drowning techniques, and now me.

From day one, I was a target. I considered myself to be a strong swimmer. That belief was contradicted after two hours of everyone taking turns using me as the life preserver. After every practice I was beaten, bruised, and genuinely concerned that I had swallowed so much water that there wasn’t any left for the fish.

Have you ever seen A League of Their Own? Mediocre movie. Tom Hanks is in it though, so there’s some redeeming value. In addition to that, this great quote somehow made its way in; “Of course it’s hard. If it were easy everyone would be doing it!”

Over time, I came to love the sport and, yes, even the people I met through water polo. Each near-drowning made me stronger, more prepared for the next one. Eventually, I was able to return the favor.

Now I stand on the precipice of adulthood. And I’m just as scared as that scrawny kid who was shivering in his speedo all those years ago.

In life, there’s always going to be someone stronger than you, someone who is so completely overpowering that you can do nothing as they crush you. Sometimes it will be near impossible to see how it can get better.

But along with that fear, I feel like I’ve been prepared for this. I’m used to getting hit around with the intent of getting back up and hitting right back.

Ultimately, it’s not how many times you get knocked down that matters, because everyone gets knocked down. It’s how many times you get back up, because not everyone can.