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Vanessa Rodanas- Midterm Piece  __What Matters In the End__  It was all down to this pivotal moment. Could I land the perfect 50 again that I had just landed in my practice, ensuring the $5,000 scholar ship? Or tie for a cast off at least! At age ten, I had finally learned the concept of money that I had no grasp of during my Oreo stacking days, so the $3,000 difference between 1st and 2nd racked my nerves. It was the build up to this crucial point that taught me all about sportsmanship, dedication and persistence, which takes me way back, even before my first Casting Kids tournament.  At six, my brother was a key figure that I modeled and respected, (though I would have flatly denied it if asked back then). I had been to the Casting Kids local tournaments and watched Rex, king of the fisherman, succeed as he was sent onto state then regional competitions. Hours of fishing and precise hand eye coordination lead to his victories, landing him in two national championships. Coolness under pressure and willingness to congratulate others, even when at a loss, taught me essential lessons on sportsmanship. Watching him succeed spiked a natural push in me to achieve similar glory, calling the attention I sought back onto met as the younger child. His 2nd place national victory culminated my desires to be like him, one of the lucky few who ascended to nationals.  Practice started at once when I returned home, knowing my seventh birthday would offer the possibility to compete and become what my brother already was. I would cast in the yard for hours a week, hoping to hit the folded dollar bill prize. It was a system my dad set up, hit the bill, at half the size of the 50 target center, and you get to keep it. Extra money intensified my efforts which were already strong. When I tired of casting, I would come inside to flip and pitch the lure at a target’s 50 center bull’s-eye. My skills improved as I devoted more, working for the illusive prize of being Rex’s equal.  Time rolled by, and it was time for my first local tournament. Numerous men whose lives were devoted to fishing were watching. As the only little girl in the crowd, I shook with nerves. Calming deep breaths steadied me into a solid 40 for flip and pitch, but then came the cast. At well under five feet, the target 30 feet away seemed further than ever under those scrutinizing eyes watching. I let go of the lever, and the line flew, but somehow did not hit the target, or anywhere for that matter. Nervously, I tugged on the line, wondering in embarrassment what happened. Peels of laughter came as one of the officials came to help me, pointing up to the rafter where I had lobbed the lure to stick securely feet above. The ceiling had cornered in my high hopes, and I knew even more determination was necessary to become the best. My competitive mindset allowed me to shake off the laughs, and focus on a lower cast. My official counting shot landed squarely on the 30, securing my first Casting Kids victory from close clutches of defeat.  That first humiliating experience deepened my desire to succeed in the world of boys and men. My hand eye coordination could become just as tuned and my skills just as honed, whether or not I spent hours on a fishing boat. In truth, I hated fishing and hardly ever went except the few times I was forced, but water skills proved immaterial as I crafted myself into a high level caster. I won six state championshipss, sending me to the regional level in locations from North Carolina to Alabama. Faces of national high rollers in BASS organization such as Kevin VanDam and Mike Iaconelli became approachable. Nationals still proved an illusive goal just out of reach until age 10 when this changed. I had put in immense effort this year and knew I had a shot with my acquired experience. I felt elated when I won this 2002 event, proving that my hard work and practice had secured me a top spot. Everything I had worked for was justified when I realized I would be one of five, out of hundreds of thousands, going to nationals.  Rex’s skill won him the regional champion in his older age group that same year, which made us the first brother-sister team to reach nationals in BASS history. Our faces were in USA Today and on TV, as well as spread across the internet. The morning of the national event, I could hardly swallow any of the huge breakfast offered to us. This time the competition mattered for scholarship money and press! Standing on the casting line, I understood the need for a 50 after receiving a 50 flip and 40 pitch. My two practice casts were 40 and 50, and I knew I was fully capable of achieving a high score again. I let the lure fly for one scoring shot and it hit dead center. The Astroturf surface below did not absorb the impact, causing it to bounce and twirl, landing off the target. The cast amounted to 0, keeping the total at an abysmal 90, the lowest of my competition history.  As I walked past the other competitors to sit with my parents, I could hardly hold back the tears. I nestled my head in my mom’s arms when I reached her and let my anger and disappointment flow out freely as I cried. While I cried, I came to the realization in my young mind that victory was not the only thing that mattered. I had made it extremely far in a competition generally for boys, and reached my personal goal of becoming a national competitor. The sting of initial disappointment was gone, and I was able to cheer my brother on because I realized my own anger was much less important than other things going on around me. Rex became national champion that year, something I would never quite achieve. Celebrating his victory and experiencing the joy he felt with him was almost paramount to my own success. I could proudly boast that my brother was the national Casting Kids champion, and I had put in my best effort to follow in his shoes.