Frenemy Sports

I have been watching the Olympics as of late and it has got me thinking about my own sporting abilities.  What might they be, you may be asking yourself.  I ask myself the same question.


It will not come as a great surprise to those that know me that sports are not really my cup of tea. Even that statement is un-sportsmanlike. Cup of tea? Would you like a cupcake with that, Cupcake? Yes, I would and proudly. Yum, I love cupcakes.

I am not particularly athletically inclined. It's not something that has faded, it just never was.  It does not seem natural to me to reach out and catch a ball when it is flying toward my body at a high rate of speed. Good God, why would someone throw something at me if they weren't aiming to hit me? After all, what are the chances I will catch it?  I have never developed past that baby stage where you close your eyes when someone throws something at you. I think I might still have that startle reflex. That is nature. I am a sad victim of said nature and I am also grossly uncoordinated.

So, imagine what that is like for me. Ball is flying at me, I'm wondering why my friend now hates me, my arms fly up from my sides, my fingers are splayed out and my eyes are closed. 

Does it look like I will catch the ball? Uh, no.

If I force myself to keep my eyes open, I have other skills I will employ. Sometimes I will throw something at it. Like it is a bird. I try to stop the trajectory. If there is a mitt on my hand, which I wear much like an accessory because it really is of no good to me, I might (quick as a flash) whip it off and throw it at the whizzing orb. I have actually hit the ball doing this. Victory! Hey, put that one in your playbook.

Because I've never had great success with that, I am a very good ball dodger. Leaning either left or right. Now I do happen to know this IS done in baseball by the batter. Making it a legit move in the sports arena - why limit it to the batter? I  have gone a little off the playbook, and employ this skill in the outfield. What? I am using the limited skills I possess.

Dodging.  See how nicely that works?

My last ball skill is to run. Run away from the ball.  My team mates are not generally fond of me.

Some people are sad when they are the last chosen. I am not and never have been. I stand there hoping maybe no one will choose me and I won't have to play and I can continue drawing with my stick in the dirt. I'm not insulted; I know how bad I am. If I wanted to win at a sports game, I wouldn't want me either.  It is always funny to me to watch a very sporty and pc person try to figure out how to utilize me. I’m like that new piece you bought for the living room but now it's home with you and you don't know where to put it. "Ok, why don't you go over there? No, wait, how about by the fence? No, let's put you way way WAY out there, over to the left.

Thank you, I still have my stick and can finish my dirt masterpiece.

Sporty people, with their god-like chiseled frames, are sometimes a little judg-ee. They look at me weird. Like "WTH?" It is the same look that the flamboyant dude on one of those "You Are Going Out In THAT Outfit?" TV shows gives the shabbily dressed Home Brau. "Oh snap, girlfriend.”  Except the sporty person is thinking, "really, THAT (as he motions in a circular motion in the direction of my body) is what you've got? Oh snap."

Sporty women are the most unkind of the sports world. Guys just get this very pitiful look on their face. They are sad for me and probably feel like you would feel toward a homeless dog. "Alright, come on".  Women, on the other hand, are out and out annoyed. I think they honestly want to bitch slap me. What do they want? At least my outfit is matching. And I'm wearing the stupid mitt, which, by the way, does NOT go with anything.

In high school I made it onto the cheer leading squad. It is sort of like a team sport. You have to have the same moves at the same time. And you also have to know the correct time to hair flip as well as back flip (in my case, cartwheel or forward roll).  That’s real pressure in high school. I'm not sure how or why I made it on the team. Maybe because I matched. And I had spirit.  Yes I did. (How about you?)  Though sometimes some of the girls on the squad looked at me the same way the sporty girls looked at me. Why you wanna flap-slap at me?  What?  Kick then turn?  Wait,….what?

This is sort of what I looked like in my finer cheerleading moments.

So my " sporty" contribution to the Wide Wide World of Sports is running.  I’m not particularly stellar at it but it's hard to get hurt. Well, not usually. I did fall down and get a bone bruise on my knee on my first half marathon. It really was not my fault. I was talking to a new friend I had just made (because my running partner was way way ahead of me – sporty girl that she is) and I was looking at the pretty cows in the countryside when I slid on the gravel. That hurt like a mo-fo. But, I did what other hard-core sportsman people would do. I cried a little into my never-been-used sweat band and then quietly bled into my shoe. But, I kept running, and did a cute hair flip at the end.  But other than that, running has been very very good to me. No pressure as no one is relying on me to catch, leap, jump or otherwise take one for the team.

But, I would take one for the team, it anyone would ever pick me…..just sayin.