“What an incredible Cinderella story, this unknown comes outta nowhere to lead the pack…”
— Carl Spackler (Bill Murray), Caddyshack

This famous Caddyshack monologue captures the daydream of assistant greenskeeper Carl Spackler, who imagines himself as an underdog golfer competing for glory. That daydream feels surprisingly familiar when I think back on Perlman 2026—and, specifically, on my relationship with spikeball at Perlman.

I’d like to think that spikeball at Perlman was my version of Carl Spackler’s golf fantasy. There are points in our lives when we get called up into the big game: when we are asked to take on bigger responsibilities, be bolder, and become more conscious of the role we play in our communities. Sometimes, we have to come out of nowhere, just like Carl Spackler.

In the case of Perlman, after spending time on board for a few terms and watching the upperclassmen who recruited me leave, I knew it was time to play the big game. I went to Perlman because I wanted to support my region and chapter and take on a larger role in the community.

At the same time, I will never forget my first day at ILTC. The first thing I did after haphazardly sliding my suitcase into Dorm 2 was run to the first spikeball net I saw. I played casually at home, but I knew that this summer would require me to be more disciplined and focused.

As we began Blueprint sessions, ILTC became more serious. Our commitments to the Perlman community, our home communities, and each other deepened. Similarly, I began taking spikeball much more seriously. I will always remember the anticipation of “the game” every day at Chofesh. Facing Will Widman and Jacob Tenenbein alongside Tristan Treadway was no easy task, and Blueprint was also slightly daunting at first. But, in time, I found my rhythm—even with a pulled lat and a sore shoulder.

By the end of ILTC, I felt valued and invested in the community, inspired to build my region, and ready to leverage BBYO’s infrastructure. And by the end of ILTC, spikeball had evolved too. More players found their way to the net, and every Chofesh became more vibrant by the Perlman tree.

Moving into Kallah, I felt a transition in both my time at Perlman and the spikeball scene. Faces came and went. Kallah attendees entered the scene in a blaze, and a similar arc followed.

This time, however, the rules of spikeball were under scrutiny. Serves evolved, technicalities emerged, and play became more complex. At the same time, I found myself in more debates—being more boldly outspoken, being transparent with my beliefs while respecting others and their perspectives. Both the game and I evolved and shifted in our own ways.

Rounding out both was poignant, and it is hard to view either as anything but memories now. In either case, I made outstanding memories during Kallah, and spending my Perlman free time by the net remains an absolute highlight.