Sport Spotlight: Cheerleading Club

Participating in a York Hornets cheerleading session is up there with some of the scariest things I have ever done. I agreed beforehand with my photographer that it would look better if he were present from the beginning, firstly for a bit of male support and secondly it wouldn’t look great if he strolled in to the cheerleading session halfway through with a giant camera. At least with a cameraman I looked like a reporter participating, rather than a guy who genuinely believed he could turn up to the women’s competition squad and be a part of the routine. Memories of Dodgeball and the Kirsten Dunst film Bring it On came to mind as I prepared myself for a lesson of humiliation.

I was informed before my endeavour that there were in fact male cheerleaders as well, and so I didn’t feel too uncomfortable about going. I was soon told however that this was an all-female team, and that it would probably be best if the girls were all aware that I was reporting from Vision, probably so that they knew I was a reporter and not a pervert. I’m sure none of the Hornets particularly cared that I was there, but I couldn’t help but feel that most of the eyes in the room were looking at me with suspicion, and I must confess I was nervous. It wasn’t ideal having the session in L/N028, where passers-by gaze through the window to see what’s going on, only to find two guys standing near the cheerleading squad, one sweating with nerves and the other armed with a camera.

The warm-up and floor exercises appeared easy enough and I managed to cope with the “one hand down”, “change direction” orders from the team leader. The occasional lunge and stretch wasn’t too difficult and I found myself feeling almost like a cheerleading equal. That is, until the stretches became a little more advanced. I could only sit there feeling totally inadequate as the squad stretched in ways that a male should never attempt, and admittedly I felt about as left out as a divorce lawyer at a wedding. I half attempted to look flexible but caught the eye of my photographer, who was ready to pounce on any unfortunate mishaps and I considered otherwise.

Despite my initial fears, the girls were incredibly understanding and very helpful. I knew it wasn’t easy for them to have a complete novice hindering the practise session, but they genuinely made me feel at ease. The squad assembled themselves into their positions to practise a small part of their two and a half minute routine. A flurry of numbers from the squad leader added to my fears once again, simply because I had no idea what was going on; I felt a bit like Bill Murray in Lost in Translation. My role didn’t seem to bear too much responsibility, until the count of “5, 6”, when it soon became clear my position was actually quite important for the safety of the routine. I don’t think a girl has ever been caught with less grace.

The girls all sensed my concern, particularly when demonstrating how to catch the flyer (a flying cheerleader) and how to do it safely. Admittedly, the position I was in made me conscious about what I was doing, and I found myself fighting a mental hang-up of how to hold a cheerleader appropriately. “Don’t be afraid to touch her bum,” was probably the quote of the day from one of the Hornets, and I realised then that safety was paramount and the girls conducted themselves with complete professionalism. The first part of the routine went well, and with me in tow we somehow managed to avoid any disasters, despite my failure to remember to “dip on 3, 4”, purely because I was trying to look good for the cameraman, and instead we ended up nearly flinging the poor flyer through the roof.

I hadn’t performed the first part particularly well but the squad still had faith in me to do my job, and I was determined to prove that I was destined to be a cheerleader after all. Armed with my new technical hold known as the ‘burger-grip’ we attempted the second part of the routine. It didn’t go well. It soon became apparent that the girl I had been holding was off balance, and as a result had kicked one of the head cheerleaders straight in the face. Silence fell around us as I stood around looking like a guilty school kid, until I was assured that it wasn’t my fault (apparently). I asked whether this kind of thing was common, and was told quite remarkably that any minor mistakes are always laughed off, and that there have never been any serious injuries.

Every now and then a scream would be heard from another group and the York Hornets would be stacked on their backs like a human Jenga, yet they always exhibited the ultimate professionalism and carried on, ensuring that the same mistake wouldn’t happen again. My last attempts were more successful and although I walked away with nerves shaken and dignity fairly intact, I felt a slight sadness when I hit reality and realised that I wasn’t a natural cheerleader after all. I was the cheerleading Mr. Bean.

Attending just one cheerleading session has made me see its appeal. All the squad members are there to succeed and enjoy themselves and the feeling of team spirit is incredible. I would advise anyone – male or female – to experience the spirit of cheerleading and attend the York Hornet taster sessions that will take place in Week 1 of next term. I know I for one will be supporting these girls in their BUCS routine this coming Easter, and I feel truly privileged to have been given this opportunity to see how the team works. Meanwhile I’ll just be sitting around waiting for that all-expected recall…