Thump! Thud! Thunk!

Your bean bag barely missed the hole. Frustrated by the absence of bags on the board, you groan as the other team winds up and sinks one in.

How do they make it look so effortless? Do they spend all their off-hours playing corn hole?

If you are ever on my team for corn hole, I apologize in advance. Although, I would consider myself a sports advocate and even by most standards, somewhat athletic I cannot throw the bean bag ‘just so.’

In fact, the last time that I attempted to play corn hole, my teammate became more of a target than the actual hole. Upon learning that he was ‘in range,’ he chose to stand behind the board which actually did improve my aim.

Since coming to college, I have noticed that corn hole is the game of choice. The wooden boards mock my incompetency at tailgates and fraternity events.

There comes a point, in every corn hole game, that I become extremely defeated. Sure, the scoreboard could tell you that, but also my lack of motivation and optimism.

Letting my mind wander, I ask what’s the point? Is there any hope? Can this train wreck be salvaged?

At this moment I have the option to throw my bean bags down in a huff and forfeit. Or, I could let my competitive nature fuel a second wind.

Maybe by this point in the article you are realizing that I am not only talking about corn hole, but life on a whole.

College students are obsessed with corn hole, and I’d wager that the game reminds them of what they experience every day.

Planted in lecture halls, at club meetings, interviews, first jobs, etc., we are constantly striving to get it in the hole.

For me, at least, it is that time of year again. I am throwing my bean bags and not even getting close to the board. Then I finally get on the board, but something or someone knocks my bag off.

Here I am, asking myself why do I even keep throwing? I mean, it’s not as if I am actually going to sink a bean bag in.

Then a friend reminds me that I am striving and straining for the thump, the thud and the thunk. I am craning my ear for the sound of the bean bag falling onto the wooden board.

That sound may not mean that I sunk one in, but it means that I am that much closer.

That is the sound of hope.