Summer athletic tournaments will always be the fondest memories of my adolescence. Of course we were there to compete, but my teammates and I always made sure to enjoy our time together.

For most tournaments, whether it was for lacrosse or baseball, I didn’t see my teammates for large portions of the year. Every time we met up to play, we immediately immersed ourselves into a culture of long days in the sun and even longer nights hiding from our parents, coaches and hotel employees.

We exhausted ourselves during the day only to recuperate for a night filled with ruckus. We tossed lounge chairs in pools and prank called other rooms, all the while avoiding being caught. We had days we played like pros and days we looked like beginners, but we all understood the purpose of playing: to have fun.

I don’t remember most of the games we won, or goals and runs I scored, but I do remember the nights after our games. We tried to order pizza from a Domino’s at three in the morning and it actually worked. We ventured into the abandoned ski slopes of Vail, and nicknamed it spelunking to hide our extracurricular activities from our less-liked teammates.

I always enjoyed tiptoeing through the hotel to avoid parents drinking in the lobby. They all seemed out of place in that atmosphere. It was unimaginable for parents to enjoy themselves; the irony is that they probably had more fun than the players.

For both parents and players, summer athletic tournaments provided us a chance to relax while being tricked into thinking that we were there for business. Coaches tell their players that they’re there to win and perform well, but that’s the coach’s job. If they spoke honestly, coaches would tell players that the importance rested in them enjoying their time with each other.

As I approach the final year of my undergraduate studies, I nostalgically reflect on those days because of the innocence of our youth and the ignorance that was permitted along with it. We knew nothing about the real world and its woes. I often find myself wondering if today’s world is truly that bad or if I’m more aware, perhaps a mixture of both. Mortality makes moments and objects in life beautiful. They won’t last physically, but will in memory. That makes them all the more tangible.