I’m not new to the world of lacrosse; I have played the sport for about three years now and have attended countless games, although I’d never really embraced the lax bro culture. Yet, the more intertwined I became with the sport, I realized it was my destiny to conform to the chill lifestyle.

I spent hours scientifically analyzing their strange behavior both on the field and in the hallways. I diligently took notes on their dress, vernacular, and stick skills. Watching from a distance wasn’t enough to satisfy my need for knowledge on the subject, I went so far as to consult YouTube’s Ultimate Lax Bro.

It seemed so simple at first, attempting to copy the deities of the spring athletic season. I completely overestimated my ability to rock the backwards hat, the sweet shades, the sick pinnie, mid-calves, and Nikes.

Obviously, this look wasn’t meant for an inferior ladies’ laxer.

I gradually adjusted to my new look by filling my closet to the brim with pastels, Polos, and Sperry’s. I learned to swag around my neighborhood, cradling my (rather, my brother’s) lax stick, split dodging anyone who stood between me and my goal.

Trying to converse with the lax bros was a difficult challenge, so I took the liberty of doing research on Urban Dictionary and MyLifeIsBro.com. Soon enough, I was able to approach my fellow bros and suggest, “Bros, anyone care to lax?” or “Dudes, let’s go get some grub,” or even “And I was like… mom, I don’t need to cut my flow. I gotta let the lettuce rage a bit,” without shame.

Unfortunately, my new identity was not meant to last. I copied the wardrobe exactly and spoke lax bro fluently, but I realized I just wasn’t chill enough to handle the bro-hood. However, on the full moon of every spring season, I can occasionally be seen swagging through the streets with my mid highs, spoon, and Ray Ban shades, and my summer tourney pinnie flowing through the wind.