Looking back on it, there’s a certain kind of clarity that you feel whenever you’re in the zone.
Actually no, that’s a lie, all you can feel is extremely large amounts of anxiety.
Two weeks ago, Livingston High School went to the National History Bowl Championships event in Arlington to once again prove that me and my friends know a bunch about things we were not alive for. And yes, for the fourth year in a row, Livingston walks home with a first place trophy and the knowledge that one of us accidentally swearing on a live broadcast is now on the internet forever. You should watch the finals match here by the way, it had a lot of cool questions.
At a more individual level, I took part in two of the solo competitions being offered that weekend; the history bee and the academic bee. In both of them I made the semifinals before ending up fourth in my room and not qualifying for the final match, but I do think that being ranked 12th in history bee and 7th in academic bee is still pretty good.
But while my successes are all well and good (:P), the thing I want to focus on is how I felt during our final two matches, particularly how I felt I had to play as a second-scorer on my team.
On Sunday, we played three matches: quarterfinals, semifinals, and finals. And in case you were wondering, yes, I did play all of these matches while wearing a kurta. It was a lovely experience.
But during these matches, what I did know was that I was not going to be scoring a lot of points. Put simply, I attended the national history bowl championships as the person on the team assigned to get every question that was not history, whether it be science, mythology, religion, philosophy, the arts, literature, etc. If there was a question that was not history, I should be the one to get it. In addition, during these final three games, the questions got hard. The questions got so hard that some of the answers barely had a wikipedia page, and most of them I had never heard of.
But that was okay, because that was history, and I wasn’t here to get history.
It’s in the finals recording, but on all the questions that I remember as being not history-related in that round (one mythology, one sociology, one literature, one anthropology), I was the person who had to get them correct, because for the one that I didn’t, nobody else on either team knew the answer. Now, this was an important role. Four or five questions could completely change the outcome of a round, so I had a decent responsibility on my side, but sometimes its hard to feel like you’re contributing when your hands are basically off the buzzer for 90% of the round.
Ultimately though, I was sitting right next to very probably the greatest high school history player in the country, and our team was never not leading until the literal finals. Throughout fifteen rounds, we had not lost the lead once, and I can be somewhat proud to say I contributed to that (as well as losing the lead in round 16 lol). But as each round got harder, I felt worse and worse about my performance and how much I was actually able to contribute to the team. During the quarterfinals, I got a few questions, but during the semifinals, I got none. Zero questions I got correct, and I had one incorrect buzz. Going into finals, my mental was messed up.
Recounting my experience on that stage, a lot of it felt like a blur. I can very clearly remember every time I answered, but basically every other time, I was zoned out because I thought that I would not be able to help there, and I didn’t want to risk getting it wrong and hurting the team. My first buzz was after the other team got it wrong, my second buzz was an incorrect answer because I doubted my knowledge. My anxiety kept rising throughout the round as after the second quarter, we were losing by ten points, the only time we were losing all tournament. As we enter the lightning round, I go to write down the answers that I think I know but that the other team got wrong, and I freeze as question number 7 gets read. The first one they got wrong, and I know the answer, I know it because I’ve studied that topic and I know exactly what they’re talking about and that’s a name I should recognize-
It feels like there’s water in my ears. The question gets bounced back to us and I can barely hear as it’s read, and I look at my friends to the right of me because they look confused as well. One of them throws out a few cities as guesses, and I feel light-headed as I realize that yes, that’s the name that was on the tip of my tongue the whole time, that must be correct. We go for it, we get it right. We also get the other bounceback, which puts us 50 points behind the other team going into our lightning round. The category is selected, and it feels easy. Too easy. The first five questions feel like nothing, which has not been how I felt after the other two playoff matches of the day. Our resident geography players know the major cities within Afghanistan, and when the question about an ethnic group comes up, I offer my best guess. Someone else confirms it, it’s correct. We get the last part and are now leading by 50 points.
Fourth quarter, we have a lead of 50. We just have to go even, to split points or do slightly better than the other team and we win the championship again. Twelve questions of insanely hard difficulty begin. The first question is read, and I feel like I know it immediately. Jane Jacobs, the name pops into my head, and I have to stop myself from buzzing because I’m unsure. What if I’m wrong, and I’m throwing the lead? I can’t just go for the first thing I think of, so I wait. And as I wait, I get scared. Scared that my anxiety and inaction is going to lead the other team to buzz first and get it correct because I got scared and didn’t go for it. I hear one more familiar clue, and go for it. 20 points, I’ve extended our lead. The second tossup is read, and it also feels familiar. There’s a clue I think I recognize – I go for it. I’m wrong. The other team thankfully doesn’t get it either but I just cost us valuable points. The anxiety is back up, and I can physically feel nauseous somewhat.
Six more questions go by, and they close the lead. There’s one question where everyone seems to be hesitating, so I go for it. 10 points, we keep the lead. The other team realistically has to get every question except one from here onwards to win the game, and they start doing it. With two questions to go, we are leading by 30 points – one question wins it for us, but it is so easy to have both go to them instead. The penultimate question, and I almost feel paralyzed as it’s read. The clues feel so familiar, because I recognize them. I know exactly what they’re talking about, I can win this game for us!
But, I’m scared. I’m scared that I could mess up, that I could cost us the championship. I don’t want to cost us the championship. So I wait. I wait three more sentences, and each one basically confirms that I’m correct. I don’t feel correct, but I know in my mind that I am. So I go for it. I buzz to win us the game. 20 points, we’ve won.
In the moment, there’s a kind of relief that spreads through you. It feels like you can finally relax, like there’s nothing left to do. The game finishes, and I don’t feel stressed anymore, but I don’t feel elated, or enthusiastic, just relieved. Two rounds of history bee later and I notice that I’m passively smiling, something that I never really do. I don’t feel happy, but my body shows it. There’s a disconnect there, but there’s enough to be contented. Even if I don’t feel it, I know that I’m happy – that I did good, that I won us that game, that I did my part. I feel happy to be crowned national champion alongside my friends for the fourth time.
My happiness at that competition didn’t come from winning a giant trophy. It came from matching and surpassing my expectations for myself, for doing better than I ever thought I would. My happiness isn’t tied to a fancy bit of medal or a number sitting next to our team name. My happiness does not depend on external or material validation.
What I learned from this tournament is that my happiness comes from me.
Oh and also we averaged almost 70 more points than the next best team (433.75 to 363.75). I’m also pretty happy about that right now.