Conversations by Candlelight: An Afternoon of Living With(out) Lacrosse Players

There are many victims of lacrosse season ramping up again: sleep, dignity, arms, free time, and Block Breaks. These are sad, no doubt, but fairly well-characterized. Like the use of the word ‘trump’ in our generation, there are some victims of circumstance that we don’t always consider. The one I have found hits close to home, literally.

Let me tell you about Mick Sullivan: good-looking, vaguely Irish, built like an artisanal whiskey cask, and as nice as the day is long. Often described as the “quiet,” “sensible,” or “normal” one among our friend group, Mick possesses a quick wit that you may get to witness if you’re lucky. Mick is also single; you can email me for more information.

Unlike most of the people featured in this column, Mick actually has nothing to do with sports on campus besides the unfortunate choice he made to live with three lacrosse players. He is also our biggest fan, though I’m sure he won’t admit it if asked. In truth, he is more in the loop than some of the people on the field. I trolled his sensibilities to understand what this time of year is like for him. I mean, it has to be lonely between the hours of 3 p.m. and 6 p.m., right?

“I don’t know if lonely is the right word,” Mick replied when I asked. “I certainly have more time for self-reflection though.”

My spidey senses were telling me that he was putting on a brave face. That, and one of his other best friends chimed in to tell me that he was, indeed, often super lonely.

Being enmeshed in our peculiar lifestyle does have its benefits, though. Mick sees being mistaken for a lacrosse player as one of his “top three” honors. It’s up there next to his mother telling him she loves him and being objectively the best air guitarist on campus.

I don’t blame him for being lonely in our house while we are all at practice. This place is a terrifying shell made comfortable by the comical amount of college detritus that covers what would be beautiful wooden floors. If you slap some splattered blood and cobwebs on our walls, you have all the trappings for the setting of a B-list horror movie. During the day, it is equally as sketchy; the sense of foreboding is replaced by repulsion as the daylight unflinchingly reveals the broken plexiglass that once was a window and, at one time, the bicycle on our roof.

It is a big, ugly, scary house for four people, but it is absolutely expansive for one person alone. Mick lists being home alone as one of his least favorite things, and unfortunately his home alone time significantly increases in the springtime.

Mick is a victim of our schedule. Not in a ‘you should feel sorry and donate something in his name’ kind of way, but in a kind of funny way. I would feel sorry for him, but honestly, I know that he is using his time alone to hone his Fortnite skills, and I resent him for that.

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