A Benchwarmer’s Tale -Ming Qin

Ming, our Director of Resources and Writing, is a rising junior at Choate Rosemary Hall in Wallingford, Connecticut. At Choate, Ming plays football and basketball.

In the world of sports, glory often shines on the players who shoot the winning goal, score the clutch touchdown, or sink the buzzer-beating shot. Their names echo in stadium chants and are immortalized in the annals of sports history. 

I have never been one of those players. Because in the shadows of those luminaries, there exists a group often overlooked but equally critical to the heartbeat of the game. They are the benchwarmers. The understudies of sport. Biding their time in the wings, ever ready to step onto the stage. 

My name is Ming Qin, and I am an expert benchwarmer. My story is one of mundaneness and inexcitement, of frequent disappointment and constant letdowns. And perhaps to you, the term “benchwarmer” may not elicit a sense of significance or stir the imagination the way “star player” does, at least not yet. It definitely didn’t to me!

My first real experience with basketball was in fifth grade phys-ed, when our coach, clearly done with the day, divided the class up into two and announced the class agenda: we were going to play ten-point games for the entire period. 

As a 5’8 fifth grader, I was big for my age. Coach conned me into playing center for my team, mistaking my size as an indicator of basketball ability. My team would soon find out that Coach made a fatal error. In just a few minutes of play, I airballed three times, travelled twice, and fouled every player on the opposing team. After an attempted outlet pass into the scorer’s table, Coach finally gave up on me. I spent the rest of class on the sidelines.

Despite a confusing orientation to basketball, I somehow fell in love with the sport. I learned the basics of the game through YouTube videos, practicing my shot and dribbling, and before long, I was a competent contributor in recess pickup games. As my skill grew, so did my ambition. After trying out for the U13 school team, I made the roster as the last player on the bench. My breakout game came mid-season, when I scored two points on a fast break layup during garbage time. We had no spectators, but I was ecstatic. Mom, I made it! I’m in the big leagues now! My heart raced. Act like you’ve been there before, act like you’ve been there before… I thought to myself as I sprinted back on defense. Thirty seconds later, the game ended. I went to sleep that night with a huge grin on my face, knowing that I’ve just jump-started my basketball career. From here on out, the sky is the limit, right? 

Right?

I ended the season with two points. My two-point game ended up being my longest game as well, when I made the court for about ninety seconds. 

As I grew older, I became a better player and made better teams. However, one thing remained consistent. No matter what level I was playing at, I always found myself at the very end of the bench, fighting tooth and nail for hardly any playing time, scoring just a few points every once in a while, and unmeaningful ones at that. In fact, over my three years of interscholastic basketball at junior boarding school, I never scored more than ten points in any season. At around the same time, I learned that players like me, known (or perhaps unknown) for their dispensability and irrelevance, get a special title. We are called the benchwarmers. 

I came to hate the name, not because it wasn’t deserved, but because it captured the essence of my role so accurately. During practice, I was always standing on the sidelines, watching the rotating players run plays. Before games, the bench players would run scout offense and defense against the rotators, but even on the scout team, I was the reserve player, subbing in for a rep or two only against the weaker opponents. During games, my job was even simpler; keep the water bottles full, the towels fresh, and, of course, the bench seats warm and comfy for the rotators when they sub out. “Benchwarmer” seemed like a demeaning name for a nonessential role. Still, I gazed longingly at the promise land that laid at the other end of the bench. 

My “big break” came in my first year of high school. For the first time since that fifth grade phys-ed class, I was not a benchwarmer. In fact, things somehow took a turn for the worse; I was cut from the JV team and moved down into the thirds team. Ironically, not unlike in The Monkey’s Paw, my dream came true. I was finally a starter, but not on the right team. 

Needless to say, I was devastated. It felt as though my student-athlete career had hit rock bottom. Yet, looking back at it, spending the year on thirds basketball was an invaluable experience. Paradoxically, as a starter, I gained a clear appreciation for the quiet value benchwarmers bring, something I wasn’t able to do when I was a benchwarmer myself. 

Benchwarmers create healthy competition within the team. Their presence pushes the starters to maintain high performance levels and work harder to retain their positions, fostering a competitive and motivated atmosphere. They also play a crucial role in fostering team unity, providing encouragement and support to their teammates during practices, games, and challenging moments. Positive attitude and dedication from the bench contribute strongly to a cohesive team environment. In many unseen ways, the bench decides the tone of the team.

By the next year’s tryouts, I had come to terms with the title “benchwarmer.” It no longer felt demeaning or nonessential. Instead, it reminded me of my importance to the team, not as a star player, but as a quiet pillar of support, pushing my teammates to perform their best. I understood that through giving it my all, I can make a real impact on the team even as a non-starter. 

With this mindset, I powered my way through the tryouts, setting screens, grabbing rebounds, playing defense and diving for loose balls, all the while keeping up the most important feature of the bench player: I embraced a positive mindset for both myself and my teammates, doing the little things like dapping a teammate up for a good screen or encouraging someone to get after the next play after they miss a layup.

Then it was the last day. The tryouts ended. I had zero expectations about the team I will make or the role I will be given. I just wanted to shoot some free throws and hit the showers. Just then, the varsity coach called out my name. Surprised, I turned and walked over, not quite sure what to expect. 

“Ming, I liked what I saw out there. You have the energy I look for in players. Do you want to play varsity ball?” 

And just like that, I went from thirds to varsity in one year. I sat happily on the end of the bench, relentlessly cheering on my D1-bound teammates, filling up water bottles, bringing fresh towels, and of course, keeping the bench warm. I was just as enthusiastic in practices, going after loose balls, mimicking the moves of our opponents, doing anything I could to make the team better. As a faithful benchwarmer, I contributed to our team’s success in ways that didn’t show up on the scoreboard. 

Hence, my perspective of the bench changed forever. Benchwarming isn’t about the lost glory or the missed opportunities. It was about giving my all, whether in practice or the few minutes I got on the court. It was about contributing to the team, not through flashy heroics, but through gritty hustle and selfless play. It was about thriving off the camaraderie, the shared struggles and triumphs, and the deep bond that came with being part of something bigger than myself. 

This year, I made the court once every four games. I never got more than ninety seconds in any single game. I would joke with my friends that I averaged 24, 10 and 6. 24 cheers, 10 high-fives, and 6 water bottles filled. In reality, I only scored two points, just like my first season of basketball half a decade ago. Coincidentally, these two points also came in the form of a fast break layup. 

What’s in store for me next year? Perhaps I will continue to pen my story as a benchwarmer? I don’t know. All I know is, though I may never make the basketball court as a starter, I wouldn’t trade my time as a benchwarmer for anything.