COLUMN: Taking responsibility

From Matt Taff's "My Dear Wormwood?," Fall '96 From Matt Taff's "My Dear Wormwood?," Fall '96Wanting to belong is one thing. Needing toFrom Matt Taff's "My Dear Wormwood?," Fall '96Wanting to belong is one thing. Needing tobelong, specially for athletes who dependFrom Matt Taff's "My Dear Wormwood?," Fall '96Wanting to belong is one thing. Needing tobelong, specially for athletes who dependon teammates on the field and live and socializedFrom Matt Taff's "My Dear Wormwood?," Fall '96Wanting to belong is one thing. Needing tobelong, specially for athletes who dependon teammates on the field and live and socializedwith them other times, is another. From Matt Taff's "My Dear Wormwood?," Fall '96Wanting to belong is one thing. Needing tobelong, specially for athletes who dependon teammates on the field and live and socializedwith them other times, is another.In the first few weeks of every school year, there are always a few freshmen who take their newfound independence too far and drink themselves into the hospital. While these occurrences aren't common, they are the most obvious cases of the underage drinking that goes on at college. In fact, drinking is often a good objective lesson in personal responsibility. Most of us remember our first freshman "binge," and the ones who don't certainly remember the hangover the next day. You wake up, the sunlight hits your eyes and seems to sear straight to your brain and you promise God, the Devil and anyone in between that you will never be so stupid again -- if you survive. After that first really bad experience, most of us develop enough sense to make sure it's our last. We learn our limits and drink within them, able to enjoy a buzz without suffering the next day. One common source of such binge drinking is obviously hazing. While Greeks are usually the first group that comes to mind when we talk about hazing, other groups "haze" their new initiates, too. Social clubs, performing arts groups and athletic teams, among others, often use alcohol to break in new members. This is my message to those new members: No matter who is handing you that shot glass, you don't have to drink it. That's right. You get to choose how much to drink and when to stop. If you don't get into Alpha Beta Gamma or the Singing Quakers, your life at Penn will not be over. As a corollary, remember that when you drink, whatever happens is all your fault. It's not your big brother or sister's fault, it's not the University's fault and it's not the LCE's fault. It's yours. You choose to drink, fine. If you get busted, don't cry about it, because you have no one to blame but yourself. As I was writing this piece, I was planning to extend my argument to drinking and athletic teams. But the issue of personal responsibility might not be as clear-cut for a freshman athlete like the one who wound up in the hospital earlier this month. It's easy to say that, of course, the coach won't kick you off the team if you don't drink that shot, but it doesn't mean your teammates can't make your life hell. When I swam in high school, my teammates were a significant part of my life. These were the guys and girls I always spoke to in the halls, the ones I would hang out with the night before a meet when we would binge on pasta for carbohydrates. These were the same guys I would work out with in the gym or jog with after school to stay in shape off-season, and the same ones I would work with at the beach when we lifeguarded during the summer. Many of them were my friends, and the rest were at least people I could tolerate. Swimming in a pool together two hours a day, giving each other rides to practice, riding on buses for hours to get to meets, cheering each other on as we swam our races? we'd swim for each other as much as anything else. While we weren't a Hallmark picture of team unity every day of every season, we were still a team, which was what made me keep going when my shoulders were on fire and my legs felt like lead. If I hadn't felt I was part of the team, I doubt I would have made it through my first season, and forget working until I made varsity. If you don't get into the fraternity or sorority of your choice, your life won't end. But if you are ostracized by your varsity teammates at an Ivy League school, you might as well not bother. Playing on a team might mean a lot more than being able to wear certain letters. Despite the official Ivy League policy of not giving athletic scholarships, coaches still go recruiting, and it's not inconceivable that here and there someone who might not have otherwise gotten past the admissions officers is here because he or she can, say, shoot a basket or row a boat. There could be student-athletes here who have a real shot at making the pros; it's rare, but not impossible, as Miles Macik, Mark DeRosa and Jerome Allen have proven in football, baseball and basketball. For these students, not playing might mean the end of a career opportunity that every little kid dreams of. For these students, and for others who just love to play, being on the field or in the pool can be very important in the long term. No athlete at Penn should feel like he or she has to drink when teammates tell them to, just to play or be part of the team. We all know rookies take shit from seniors. It's part of life; it can help build a stronger feeling of team unity, which leads to better performance on the field. But involving alcohol in this process, especially with freshmen who might be new to drinking and unable to keep up with the rest of the team, is irresponsible and just plain dangerous. Coaches shouldn't be allowed to turn a blind eye to such practices, and upperclassmen should watch out for any of their peers who encourage them.