Sports + Me = Bad Idea

    Wouldn’t it just have been special to be one of those remarkable tomboys who excelled in sports, always was picked first for teams, and played hard and well at everything she did?  I think so too.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t me.  I was the shortest kid in the class who was the last one picked for games.  I was the one the whole team would audibly groan if they got stuck with me.  I was never very athletic.  I had no coordination and always sucked at every sport I tried.  Some kids like me are just not meant to rule the athletic fields.

     When I was little, a bunch of kids would get up a game of soccer at recess.  For some reason that seems completely beyond me at this point, I usually joined into this mad a$$ chase after the soccer ball.  I may have gotten the opportunity to kick the stupid ball once or twice in the whole time I made an effort to look like I was playing but I never did anything remarkable like score a goal.  If I would have, my classmates would surely have died from the shock.  I was always placed as far outfield as I could get without leaving the schoolyard when playing kickball or softball.  I would stand out there and pray the ball would not come my way so I wouldn’t have the opportunity to make a complete fool of myself.  Ahh, those were the days.

      All things athletic escaped me and didn’t really improve as I grew older.  The powers that be forced all students to participate in gym class through the 10th grade.  I used to despise the obstacle courses that my gym teachers would set up to torture me in front of my peers.  In junior high I made it to my last event before I puked my guts.  My gym teacher had the balls to saunter up and ask me if I intended on completing the event. Was he kidding?  Hell no!!  I just tossed my lunch on the gym floor.  I am done.  Be happy I made it to the last event! 

       In tenth grade an elephant vault was included in the course.  Basically you had to run up, jump on a springboard, which would effectively catapult you up to the top of the parallel bars which had gym mats laid across it, and then you were supposed to jump to the ground and haul a$$ through the rest of the obstacles to the finish line at record speed.  It was a lovely thought in theory, but the gym teachers hadn’t counted on someone as hopeless as me coming along.  In front of my whole class, I ran up at top speed, hit the springboard, and smashed right into the mat.  SPLAT!!!  I fell backwards on my a$$ with the whole gymnasium exploding in laughter.  It was one of the most mortifying experiences of my life.  Like a Charlie Brown cartoon you could literally see the “HA HA HA HA’s!!” in the air.

     It shouldn’t have come as any surprise when I got the brain fart to run with the girl’s cross country team in senior year that those witnessing the debacle of me arriving after running 4 ½ miles were in complete shock.  I remember bending over gasping for breath while sweat literally poured off of me when the senior quarterback of the football team sauntered up and congratulated me on my achievement.  Unfortunately I was to busy dying at that precise moment to come up with anything cool to say so I puked on his high priced tennis shoes instead.  

       I was completely shocked and thrilled when I was awarded a lettermen’s jacket at the conclusion of the season.  I certainly couldn’t have received it because I had won every race or because I had been an asset to the team.  Maybe they were so amazed that I actually survived the season and lived to tell the tale they figured I deserved a token of their esteem.  Whatever the case,  I flaunted that letterman’s jacket like I was top athlete on campus until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.