“What a Starlings Girl Should Be” by Kate Steiker-Ginzberg

This is one of the winning essays in this year's Starling's Organization Writing contest. Other essays can be read by visiting the Starling's website or clicking here.

“What a Starlings Girl Should Be”

Winning essay by Kate Steiker-Ginzberg, junior from Philadelphia Starlings.

It always struck me as funny that they describe Starlings as an “extra-curricular activity” because there is nothing “extra” about it. My family will be the first to tell you that at this point, I spend more time playing volleyball than I do with them. When my coach comes late to practice, it is because he has to “save his marriage,” and my other friends roll their eyes at the idea of me playing a sport until nine o’clock on a Thursday night when I should be watching the latest episode of “Grey’s Anatomy.” But maybe all these people just don’t get it. It’s hard to explain what Starlings really is, “what a Starlings girl should be.”

There is an evolution to this Starlings girl. Way back in eighth grade looking at the big impressive high schoolers, she began hoping that one day she too would be tirelessly selling candy to raise tournament money. But any Starlings girl is so much more than that. The group that assembles twice a week in various gyms in Philadelphia brings togetheran array of “Renaissance girls.” Most of us are coming from our earlier school sports, quickly changing from cleats or bathing suits, to kneepads. One member of my team, Natalie, comes to nine o’clock practice every Saturday with wet hair: she’s already had swimming practice
for three hours.

We are also very serious students, furiously trying to get some studying time in between matches at a tournament, texting each other the incredible news that “yes, Imanyah did get into Johns Hopkins!” We are musicians, dancers, artists, actors, friends, girlfriends, and gossips. But when practice starts (even during warm-up when my coach kindly refers to our
play as “picnic-level volleyball”) we are just the Philadelphia Starlings.

A Starlings girl, at least in my experience, is someone that can take criticism. We are a team of girls that is yelled at in a way that would make my grandmother cringe, and probably threaten my coach. We are a group that is expected to play with passion and intensity on a regular basis, working hard to push everything else out of our minds and just focus on the volleyball. A Starlings girl knows that if a ball hits the floor, we’re hitting the floor with it, and if we stand around watching it, in comes the dreaded conditioning. A Starlings girl knows all about conditioning. Whenever we’re being lazy, not playing up to our level of volleyball, Coach Dwyer just says “line up,” and we know what’s coming: lunges, two-footed bounds, the plank,
butt kicks. You name it, he’s heard of it, and he will gladly make us condition until either: a) our volleyball improves, or b) we can no longer walk so the rest of practice is irrelevant. I remember one Saturday morning practice we conditioned the entire three hours, and afterwards, our coach said, “either you will be the best volleyball players out there or in the best shape. You decide.” Needless to say, we played much better the next time around.

A Starlings girl knows about fundraising. Coming from Philadelphia public schools, we do not have the privilege of immense resources, but we work with what we have. Before every practice, we get a “money talk,” during which we’re constantly reminded of tournament fees, and the fundraising that still needs to happen to go to San Diego this summer. And then out comes the candy boxes. Philadelphia Starlings are infamous for their candy selling: the
teachers hate the open shop in their classrooms, while the kids fork over dollars for Skittles and remark, “wait, this is for that umm…Starlings thing, right?”

All the Starlings girls that I know can turn any fundraising event into a party, even if it means waking up at seven to hand out water at the Broad Street Run. Last year we raised over $1,000 dollars collecting change in one afternoon on a street corner; the pouring rain
probably added some pity points. We have a sense that making it to San Diego is not just about the hours we put into volleyball, but the hours raising the money to get us there. I think it will make the trip that much more satisfying.

A Starlings girl should be part of a larger community, a group of people assembled from across the city that keep in touch even during the brief, barely existent Starlings off-season. Girls on my school teams are confused when I run to hug a random girl on the Mastbaum basketball team. One of my school friends has managed to get himself both a Soph Hop and prom date out of befriending the Starlings team at our local pizza hangout before a
Thursday night practice.

The Starlings girls are also a group of diverse girls. We are people from all over the city, of all different races and political beliefs. I remember the shock of the first tournament I went to last year; apparently none of the other teams in Pennsylvania have black or Hispanic people at all, let alone in the majority. It was a source of amusement last year that some of the referees thought we didn’t understand all the rules, and worried when we were lines judges. Needless to say seeing Mikecia spike, shut them up pretty quickly. Not only did we understand all the rules, we were actually pretty good. But by now we’ve gotten used to some of
the staring and the fact that clearly some of these girls have never heard Spanish spoken as fast as Joann’s mom, or never seen anyone do the wu-tang in person like Melissa. We’ve gotten used to questions like, “Wait, you guys are actually from Philadelphia?”

You get the sense that some of these girls are out here just to play volleyball, but that’s not the Starlings. The Starlings girls are part of something much bigger than that. Of course, we wouldn’t object to having one of those suburban 6- foot-2, girls.

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