Rants from the Crib

An Ob/Gyn gone mad

Easy Out

This is my daughter.  This will never be me.

This is my daughter. This will never be me.

I will not go to my daughter’s softball practice today.  I did not tell my husband why, and I will avoid telling him if I can.  I will just let him think I am a bit selfish today, that I have other things that I need/want to do, and I will probably go next time.  I like to go and show her support normally, but this is not normal.  At the last practice they announced that all the parents will be “playing” against their kids, and to be sure not to wear flip flops and be ready to play.  There’s one problem.  I can’t play.  Anything.  Other than reflexes, and good hand-eye coordination, my body completely betrays me.

I dreamed, my whole life, of being an athlete, of throwing my body into a perfect arc that bounced into a beautiful handspring, of doing chin-ups like Sigourney Weaver in Aliens, of volleying in tennis, of making a perfect catch smack into a well worn leather glove.  But dreams are just dreams.  And it wasn’t for lack of trying.  I practiced gymnastics over and over in PE in junior high school.  I wanted to do what the cheerleaders did.  But I couldn’t even bend my neck right to do a backwards roll.  And I practiced over and over again, at home, on a mat that I’d bought.  I could do a backbend.  A crooked cartwheel.  A forward roll that bent my neck and made my head throb.  Mom signed me up for tennis lessons, swimming lessons, ballet.  She put me on a swim team.  I got disqualified from the breast stroke, my only heat, because I took too many strokes under water.  I didn’t even know that was a rule.

When it was time to play sports in elementary school, I never even had a chance.  I skipped the third grade, which is where you learn the rules for all those games.  I went from recess to sports whose rules I knew not at all.  A boy in my class literally tried to explain kickball to me while I was standing in line to kick.  I couldn’t kick.  And when it came to baseball, I couldn’t hit a ball.  Even though my dad worked with me, I didn’t hold the bat right.  I screamed and ducked when balls came at me instead of catching them.  I stood as far as I could out in the outfield and prayed that nothing would come to me.

But there was no avoiding the turn at bat, at kicking, at volleyball.  When I came up to the plate, the boys would begin to shout, cruelly, taunting, “EVERYBODY MOVE UP!  EASY OUT!  EASY OUT!”  The whole field would suck inward in a bloodthirsty attempt to be the one that would stop the ball that I’d kicked only feet in front of me, so they could hurl the ball at my chest, my butt, my head.  My heart would pound as I came up to the plate, and I would strike out, or the ball would be grabbed and hurled at me.  I would slink to the back of the line, head down, and pray I wouldn’t have another turn before the game was over.  Tears would sting my eyes, and I would chant to myself, “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.”

Volley ball in junior high, everything was the same.  I would cower behind the other players, praying the ball wouldn’t come to me.  Everybody had to take a turn serving, and the ball would slam awkwardly off my wrist, if it hit it at all, bruising me and sending the ball off the court toward the coach.  I saw the scene in Twilight where Bella hits the ball into the guy’s head, and I thought, that scene is inaccurate.  She would have missed the ball altogether, and instead of flirting with the guy she hit, she would have cowered and blinked burning tears from her eyes.  That was volleyball as I knew it.  The skill I learned best while playing sports was how to avoid interaction of any sort.

And the old joke about being picked last?  That tired old joke?  It’s not funny.  It’s not funny if it happens to you over and over and over and over, and they fight over who has to take you.  And they groan when they get stuck with you, and roll their eyes.

And now they want me to play ball in front of my daughter.  I can’t hit.  I can’t catch.  I can’t throw.  I really can’t run.  My daughter is a superb athlete; she gets it from her father, and she is more skilled at seven than I ever have been, or ever will be, in my life.  She can catch anything.  She can hit anything.  I can’t go to that dark place in front of her, other children, other parents, my husband.  I’m crying a little now, just thinking about what if I had to do it.

My husband can’t find out why I’m not going.  If he does, he’ll think he’s doing me a huge favor by pushing me to go.  He’ll think, I just need to try, it’s just a game, I need to get over those old childish fears, no one is going to treat me badly on the field, I need to suck it up, grow up, and try.  He doesn’t understand.  He never will.  He inherited a perfect, athletic body, that looks tight and muscled even when he isn’t working out.  He has never failed or sucked at any sport.  His only possible disadvantage is his height, but he sometimes brags about his vertical leap, his reflexes, his speed.  His body just does what he asks it to.  In all the times he has practiced throwing, batting or catching with my daughter, inside or outside the house, I have never seen him miss or even bobble a ball.  That arm just shoots out, and SLAM, that ball is in the glove.

I know my husband thinks that I can’t play sports because I just haven’t tried enough.  I know I have tried enough.  When I was in med school, I dated a guy who was a big Ultimate Frisbee player.  Big.  Huge.  As in, he went to Nationals every year.  He made it a condition of dating him, you had to at least try to play the sport.  If I met someone like that now, I’d kick him in the teeth and the balls and tell him to take his conditional ass to freaking hell.  But I was young, and he was so cute, and so smart, and so funny and I wanted him.  I wanted him to admire me.  Even if it meant exposing my deepest fears about performing athletically.  I told myself it would be good for me; that he was good for me, that I needed to suck it up and really try.  Sound familiar?

I practiced throwing that disc with him and his friends every time we were outside. I did windsprints with him.  I did pullups and crunches and scrimaged every chance I got. I got as good as I was going to get.  But my slow body just wouldn’t respond.  In a game, making a run to a thrower to try to receive a pass, I would drag, blocking the players behind me, my man on defense somehow in front of me, blocking me, cutting me off.  There would be shouts of, “You’re clogging!”, a cardinal sin of getting in the way of the flow of the offense.  And if I somehow got the disc in my hand, all those throws I’d practiced so hard would be meaningless, as my man on D would simply flow around me, and my throw would bounce off them and to the ground and into the hands of the defense.

The worst thing was, everyone knew I didn’t want to play.  They knew what his conditions were.  And he had dated a large number of the female players, all of whom were good and athletic, and I had to humiliate myself in front of them, be defeated by them, and pay for taking their guy.  Whole teams hated me just because I had hurt one of their players just by dating him at all.  It was a horrible five years.  I tried for five years to be someone I wasn’t, just because I wanted someone to love and admire me.  So yes, I think I’ve tried hard enough.

I won’t go to practice tonight.  My hands would shake as I walked to the plate.  I would swing weakly, ineffectively, and I would miss the ball.  I would cower if a ball came at me.  I don’t even remember which hand a glove goes on.  I own one.  My daddy bought me one; lovingly tattooing my name in it with a pin and ink.  He tried.  Really hard.  But sometimes trying just isn’t enough.  I can’t go back to that dark place.  I can’t and I won’t.  And I won’t justify myself to my husband, because he has never failed at anything athletic, and he really can’t comprehend the scars of years of struggle and humiliation.

I refuse to hear my daughter, derisively, not understanding my pain, laughing at me because I don’t stand right and I don’t swing right and I can’t hit the ball and I can’t use a glove.  She doesn’t know any better.  She’s never failed at anything athletic either.  I love to see that in her, though.  She is so blessed.  I won’t say I live through her, because I don’t, but I watch her perfect body and her perfect moves and I just glow to think that something like that came out of me.  But  I won’t go there, to that place.  I’m crying again now because the thought hurts me so much.  I’m not going to watch my daughter practice today.  And it isn’t because I don’t care.  I care too much.

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104 thoughts on “Easy Out

  1. I know exactly where you are coming from. ((hugs))

    • Amazing how it’s still painful after all these years. But guess what?? I just found out this piece is going to be Freshly Pressed!!!

    • I have the opposite problem.. I did feel what it was like to run or chase like a dog, catch the ball and throw it with ease to the target. Unfortunately I will never be able to compose a beautiful sentence like you.

      • As they say, we each have our own talents. I was blessed with a lot – I shouldn’t expect to excel in all of them. But I never lambasted students who didn’t do well in their studies – wouldn’t that be crazy, a geek hazing bad students. Somehow that doesn’t translate. In most circles, athletic ability is still held in higher esteem than academic performance. It’s OK to haze poor athletes, but totally not OK to haze kids for not being very bright.

      • I agree kind of . Have you ever seen someone with spatial awareness challenges try to run and catch? They know they suck.. Calling the Water Boy in front of the team is not cool.

      • At least nobody ever called me Water Boy. I probably wouldn’t have been strong enough to carry the water, I would have spilled it, and they would have demoted me to something more humiliating.

  2. *HUGS* Oh, God, how I relate to this. I’m sending all my hugs and thoughts to you.

  3. alexanderschimpf on said:

    The problem isn’t with you, but with this “play your kids in practice” idea. Don’t they realize that our true vocation as parents is sit in lawn chairs and drink beer? But seriously, what’s next? Are you supposed to go to prom when she does?

    • I totally agree. I would have to put my beer down if I had to bat or run, so that would be totally out of the question. And the thought of attending anyone’s prom gives me the willies.

    • Theres always 2 sides of a coin I guess..2 ways to look at something..No different than sports games with bosses vs. employees; this is about getting involved with your kids. Thats all..Participation. And to the author? Honestly, I doubt that MOST of the parents will be able to play the game. That isn’t really what matters..Your child, or most children, will love the fact that you were there. Participated and had a GOOD time..Life is far too short to not get over our “issues”..Is it tough? Sure IS..Getting over my fear of heights almost killed me! Hanging from a cliff & climbing down with a backpack on my back; was NOT fun. I almost fainted..I almost vomited. I cried & cried & begged! my drill SGT(long time ago..) not to tell any of the other women (50 ft down and looking UP at me; wondering wtF is she talking to the Drill SGT about?) that I was in tears. But with any fear its great to get over the edge…And kids are worth it. Good luck

  4. I’m reminded of some childhood experiences. I never partook in any sporst

  5. I’m reminded of some childhood experiences. I never partook in any kind of sports. Reason: I was too shy to even run, forget shouting!Hell! I now long to play. I try to play now.For obvious reasons, I’m not good at anything I can remember. But yes, I missed a good part of childhood. When I play now, I realize it’s fantastic!

  6. The organizers of your daughter’s league are missing the point. The parents are supposed to LIVE VICARIOUSLY THROUGH THEIR KIDS from the distance of the bleachers, not on the same playing field with them!

    • I thought the whole idea was pretty silly. After all, the adults were going to have to bobble balls and make goofy plays, otherwise the kids would lose and they would be sad. (Unless I were playing, in which case they would beat me handily)

  7. My sons are much better than me at sports… so I enjoy their talents and feel proud to be their dad, so grateful for their mother’s genes… 🙂

  8. Such a sweet post! So many people know exactly what this feels like. I hated kids sports but eventually found tennis and raquetball, which sort of let you learn at your own pace with someone else who was learning. That and the fact that now most of my sporting friends have injuries that make them move slow. I hadn’t thought about yelling “Easy out!” at them, but they’ve had it coming. : )

    • Yeah, I kind of like tennis too. As long as someone is willing to take it slow and just gently volley balls, it’s a pretty fun way to spend some time. Just don’t expect me to overhand serve. And you’re right, most people who were avid athletes in high school and college have some fairly debilitating injuries. My husband was playing a pickup game in college and slid on his knees into the goalpost, fracturing his patella. He’s never been the same since. But he’ll never be an “easy out”.

  9. I played in a softball league. They put me out in the far right field, hoping no one would hit a ball out in that direction, way out there. I was one of the ones, when I saw a ball heading straight at me, who would put my glove in the air, close my eyes, and hope for the best. I knew I was out in right field because I wasn’t good enough to be anywhere else. No problem. I stood out there watching the clouds and listening to the wind. I played my own game, I guess.

    • I got wrangled into playing coed intramural softball in med school, because they didn’t have enough women for the med school team. I took one for the team by just “playing”. I knew they just needed a name on their roster.

  10. My thoughts exactly! Thanks for sharing, helps me feel less of an outsider 🙂

  11. I think you found your physical fitness joys as an adult. You never need to apologize why you aren’t interested in team sports. http://cyclewriteblog.wordpress.com/2012/09/04/a-fitness-match-made-in-heaven-your-personality-and-your-favourite-sport/

    One day you will be able to have a fun game with other klutzy adults. Right now is not the time.

    Enjoy your yoga! Provides balance, strength and flexibility.

  12. This is powerful. I feel where you are coming from, although I grew up athletic, I’ve had to put that mostly behind me and find my body doesn’t do what it should. I also has a wife that was not blessed with athletice coordinance. She attempted to play disc golf with me early on…probably to impress me, but it soon became clear that it was more stress then pleasure. She will occasionally come out if I am able to play, but I never push her.

    Huge congrats on getting this freshly pressed. It’s a well deserved honor for this piece. Also, so awesome that our husband read and understands. I find that understanding in others can often be the best medicine.

    • Agreed. I didn’t want to discuss with my husband why I didn’t want to go to practice, but when he read this piece (because of course I HAD to tell him I was Freshly Pressed), he actually said that he understood. And he liked the piece. (Of course, he comes off looking pretty good).

      • Honestly, I think you come out looking the best. Not only did you face your fears from childhood…you were awarded for that fact. Talk about validation of the person you are, not the athlete you’re not.

  13. Cheyenne on said:

    Oh how I relate. I am able to “feel” your emotion throughout the post. I am athlete armchair athlete to my hockey player daughter! I have the co-ordination of a cow in labor – the saying in my house is “If Mom throws anything at you, don’t move, you’ll be safe” Congratulations on being “Freshly Pressed” Perhaps your athleticism has not been your gift but you have found one in writing.

    • That’s funny about the throwing things! When I was pregnant, I actually did throw a bag of muffins at my husband for stopping the microwave on an odd number of seconds. Oh, pregnancy hormones! Of course, with his superior reflexes, he was able to sidestep them easily.

  14. I understand your need to hide from the dark place….you are strong, as I am trying, every day, to be. Thank you for sharing.

    • Well, this post wound up being the answer to everything. I was nervous about having to discuss why I wasn’t going to practice with my husband, but after he read the piece (because I had to tell him about being Freshly Pressed, of course), he said he understood. And he really did like the piece a lot.

  15. I feel for you. I’m not much different. Wonderful writing about a painful part of life.

  16. it’s amazing to me that as a journalist and working with words for 40 hours a week i can’t seem to find the right ones right now haha; as a writer i loved HOW you told your story – it was impactful and filled with emotion that anyone, even an athlete such as myself, can fine a way to relate to it. i was lucky enough to have athletic ability but im proud to say i also was never one to pressure others or make fun of them if they didn’t, of course at a whopping 4’8″ im not sure i have any right to make fun of anyone lol. anyway – everyone is blessed with a talent – okay so yours wasn’t athleticism, but as another commenter already said – you’re definitely a talented writer and the good news there is -unlike athleticism that fades fairly quick with time, your writing will only get even better. seems a fair trade to me. 🙂 but maybe that’s just me?

    • There are so many things that I am blessed to be able to do, but of course we always want what we can’t have, don’t we? I have requested to be an athlete in my next life but we’ll see. I’ll probably be an otter. They’re pretty athletic.

  17. I sympathize. I too failed pretty miserably at sports, and I really can’t stand how schools mandate athletics for children all the way through freshman high school (at least for me). For people uninterested in athletics, they don’t train or exercise, especially that early in life, and they have to play with people who do train, who receive coaching, who have been taught the basics of learning sports and playing them. This shouldn’t be a problem, but so many children readily turn to elitism because the sensation of power, control, command, and a general lack of maturity and ethics to control the impulse to abuse weaker players.

    The result? I’m absolutely terrified of elitism now at 25.

    I’m a writer and a student at WCU University. I like to write, to talk writing, to share writing, and help people with writing, but writers with awards and publications scare the hell out of me when all I know are their names and accolades; mostly for the reasons you posted there. I see a person in a superior situation, I immediately worry that they might antagonize me, even though I’ll be nice and polite. I’m terrified of every writer with even a little prestige, because they might see an up-and-comer like me as the perfect stomp-toy to feed their egos. It’s silly, because Appalachian area writers tend to be nice as can be, but I have so much ingrained fear toward people that simply have the position to be elitist that I avoid them. It’s also an incredible handicap in the profession of creative writing, because the best tool beyond all other resources in writing is a mentor, and those potential mentors are exactly the people that scare me.

    (Thankfully I did find a writing mentor, but my post is getting too long already.)

    Antagonism so easily leaves a person scared of further antagonism. I really wish they’d obliterate mandatory athletics, because it’s just a breeding ground for elitism and a killing ground for victims to become antagonized and suffer LONG-TERM psychological damage. My creative writing career was set back by years because I had to overcome fear (or rather, learn to cope. I sure as hell haven’t gotten rid of it. Professor Ron Rash still scares the hell out of me cause I haven’t met him yet.), and I can only imagine how much more damage other lives’ have suffered out of a fear of further antagonism.

    • I am a big worrier myself, and tend to get worked up about things that only possibly might happen. You are right; there is a lot of elitism in academia, no doubt. Everyone is scrabbling for tenure, climbing up on everyone else’s backs. When I do worry I remind myself of a Dutch saying: “Don’t worry. It will happen differently anyway.”

  18. I get it. I always let people down with sport too. And you don’t just “need to practice” some people are just born to be terrible!

    • Yes, I was definitely born to be terrible at sports! It’s just amazing to me the things my husband and daughter can do. I love to watch them. I love to watch sports and see athletes in action. It’s just something I wasn’t made to do.

    • That statement right there is enough to break my heart for every child out there who gives it his/her all and doesn’t measure up to preconceived ideology of someone else. So what, if you don’t measure up to the next All-Star sportsman. That’s not the point to playing the game or any game for that matter. How can we as adults honestly praise and encourage our children if we ourselves are willing to say; in so many words, it’s not about the fun of the play, it’s only about winning and keeping up appearances.

      I commend you on writing about your fear. Now, I challenge you to write about ways you would coach a child with a disability if ever given the honor.

      Some of the time, it only takes one person who believes in another to push them towards their own personal greatness and some of that time, it is the one we see in the mirror every morning.

      • Interesting. I’ll have to try to come up with a post for that one. I have some interest in Autism – but I imagine that that would be a group that was very difficult to coach.

  19. I was right along with you in the “picked last” group. I hated sports. I was chubby, awkward, uncoordinated, and had no real desire to be better at sports. It wasn’t long before I more or less started to resent sports. I imagine, in a fair world, if it’s so important that everyone be forced to play basketball, football, etc. it should be equally important that everyone be forced to play violin, piano, or some other musical instrument. And if they suck? Why, we get to laugh at them and make them generally miserable, of course.

  20. Great personal insight. Thanks for sharing.

  21. Very nice… It’s really nice to read from a parent who has skills in many areas in life (not sports) but from this I can tell you are an excellent writer and you took me to that place. I have not had that humiliation with sports in life. My grandpa was a PE teacher… We had to excel. But I had cousins that couldn’t due to physical reasons. I always felt bad for them. Never would we pick them last or make fun of them. We had our moral rules as kids. The pain you have is great. You could go and say “I will take the photos today. And declare you have a permanant injury that prevents you from playing!” You don’t need to tell them it’s an injury to your pride etc! Just a thought!

  22. For years, after beginning golf by making my own club out of a shoot growing out of the side of a cut-down tree stump, carving balls with my jackknife out of tree limb sections, picking a field where the hay had been taken, leaving three-inch stubs and practicing on my way to finding the cows of a summer evening, I swung a real 5-iron at Colgate and then, as a Marine officer, golfing around the world, hearing watchers say, “You make it look so easy!”, I now, nearing my 88th year and post reverse shoulder replacement with titanium find it difficult to hit any ball not teed up off the ground.
    I haven’t given up trying yet, telling myself how poorly I swing, working on all the facets I have learned and known so well, but watching my dribbles nonetheless. Right now I’m on holiday from golf having worn away the skin on my left index finger, and changing my grip soon to ‘cure’ the bare spot.
    All of the above to flesh out this: I know how you feel!

  23. luckymckoy on said:

    How sad yet sweet. I can relate!

  24. Interesting story!

    First, I was born with some kind of odd ball condition and my coordination as a child was awful. I struggled with athletics growing up. My child hood was full of tests and screwing up people’s games. Then I found a sport that let me work out my issues at a different level and voila! Now I can do about anything…well, somethings with a lot of practice. Everyone is different and some people will always struggle…does not mean they are not great at something. The something could be music or writing or art.

    As for the game. I get where they are coming from and kids love to see their parents play but it should not be mandatory. Some people are wired in a way that they understand they will probably fail and they do not mind looking foolish. To others, it is like public speaking…a painful experience. They should just open the field to whatever parent wants to join in and leave it at that.

    And congratulations on being Freshly Pressed!

    • Thank you! I suppose I could have gone to the practice and just flatly refused to participate, but how would that look to the kids? It wouldn’t seem too sportsmanlike.
      If you don’t mind my asking, what was the sport that you found?

      • It was actually surfing and also skateboarding to a smaller degree. Both are not easy by any means and I completely sucked at both at first. I think what helped was that I could do it on my own away from other people at my own pace and if I screwed up; I was not letting down a group of people.

  25. kellyscott57 on said:

    you said you cant
    THEN YOU CANT
    I understand that maybe playing vs your kid???? but lets show her not to say as mom did ??? I can’t?

  26. Huge hugs, and kudos to you for stepping up and sharing this with so many people.

  27. it’s funny how it’s a norm in our world (the one that we bring kids up in) to desire to perform well in sports. it’s just not something everyone is good at – I don’t see why we put such emphasis on it.

    Exercise of course is important, but excelling in sports has nothing to do with getting fresh air, playing outside and being healthy. Those are things that should receive encouragement.

    • Well, a good athlete is a wonder to behold. They just shouldn’t throw kids of all levels of ability together and then not expect them to establish little cliques and hierarchies. Kids love to do that. Heck, PEOPLE love to do that.

  28. Amazing, brave post that inspires me to continue what I’m trying to do … help folks be their most remarkable … check me out at Notevole if you wish. YOU are remarkable by posting this and letting us and the world know what we have to do and that’s integrate and include in PLAY all of us and all of our children. I’m just starting, but youth and sport (broadly defined) is my passion and, although I’m starting broadly, hopefully helping people be inspired to be remarkable, YOU have inspired me to get to my focus, my passion sooner, rather than later. Keep writing; keep driving!

  29. I used to be so incredibly afraid of balls… Now I just avoid them.. (beautiful picture, by the way)

    • Yes, I find ball avoidance to be the best strategy. Thanks on the pic – I shot almost 500 frames at that game, deleted about 95% of them, and came out with a few great ones.

  30. It’s funny I love playing sport but was never really good at anything but always tried my hardest. I still play softball at 28 years old and still one of the worst players on the team, but I do enjoy being part of the team. I remember in year 12 I was told by my sport teacher I got a C, but I just wasn’t coordinated enough for a better grade haha!

  31. drupaducs on said:

    This post is beautiful.

  32. This was so bittersweet! The strong genes survive. You and your husband have given your daughter the best of both worlds, I am sure! My sports days ended at age 12 when I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis so I was forced to watch from the sidelines. My two healthy, gorgeous, athletic girls play 3 seasons of softball and I enjoy keeping the scorebook but I do not participate in the coaches vs. players game at the end of the summer. I don’t even go. Kudos to you for a great read!

    • Wow, RA at age 12! That’s really rough. How is your arthritis now? I hope it’s pretty stable. It’s fun watching softball, isn’t it?

      • Yes, I enjoy a good game. My RA is day to day. I utilize medication, meditation, diet and exercise to try to control it. Writing is great therapy! Thank you for asking.

  33. LucyBre on said:

    A friend forced me into doing cross-country. I didn’t even know what it was and I hated it. I was always the only one that went every week and didn’t get picked to run for the team, I just couldn’t do it.

    Although today it is still one of my life ambitions to run a marathon, I really don’t know what goes on inside my head :s

    • Wow, cross country is a difficult sport! One of my friend’s kids ran cross country and they had t-shirts that said “Your sports do our sport for punishment.”

  34. I, too, am awful at sports. The only thing I could do was run and I wasn’t “good” at it but at least I was only failing myself and not my team.

    Though, unlike you I was never a sports fan. I played because my friends did but secretly I hated it. And now, though all my family is ridiculous about football, I basically avoid any and all types of sports… now whether this is because I just never liked sports or because I am so awful at them I don’t want to be reminded of it…we’ll never know. : )

  35. Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
    WHERE YOU AN “EASY OUT?” SOMETIMES I WAS…

  36. Beautiful. Thanks for sharing your story. I hope that you do share this with your husband and someday even your daughter. They love you because you are you, not your athletic prowess…

    • I was shrieking with excitement that day when I found out I was going to be Freshly Pressed. So hubby of course asked what I wrote about and I said, Er, I wasn’t going to discuss it with you. Maybe you should just read the post.” So he read it and said he actually understood and he thought it was a great post! So it just goes to show you…

  37. Oh wow, can I relate! The trauma, the trying, the taunting. I’m so glad my daughter is more of an artiste so I won’t have to face this. My little two year old is a natural athlete though. I’ll just make my husband handle all the sports though. Writing this post was definitely a better use of your talents than facing humiliation. How did your daughter respond to you not being there?

    • Oh, she was fine. It was just a practice and her Daddy was there, helping coach. She didn’t give it a second thought (and meanwhile, I was having all that trauma).

      • That is great!!! My daughter would’ve never let me hear the end of it. My stepsons are really sporty and I am appalled at how much time it takes away from family activities, homework, dinner, sleep…it’s on my mind a lot.

  38. Although I am athletic, I would have shirked the daughter/parent practice, too, with absolutely no shame. I didn’t play softball because the ball was thrown at such high velocity it scared the crap out of me, but that could have been a side effect of first being introduced to baseball by my sadistic older brother who constantly threw the ball at my head. Playing softball in middle school for the first time was traumatic. Everytime the ball was thrown to me, I involuntarily curled into a ball suspended on one leg and instinctively shielded my face with my hands. It wasn’t pretty. I seriously gave an audible “Ugh” when my daughter told me she wanted to play competitive softball. I tried to talk her into swimming.
    Great post!

  39. I get this. I am also not an athlete. I joined a gym about two months ago and it takes me about 30 seconds (of a 60 second exercise) to manoeuvre myself into position on the exercise ball!!!

    I, like you, was also always the kid that was picked last in those horrific games we did in PE. Half way through high school I just stopped going to PE, it just wasn’t my thing. And I used to only get half way down a lane in the swimming pool as I always managed to choke myself on the disgusting chlorinated piss-filled pool.
    Thank god I am an adult now and I can choose to do (or not do!) what I want, when I want! Yay for freedom!
    Good post 🙂
    Danni

  40. Wonderful post. I was an athlete not long ago, but have lost my stride. I work with children both during school and during the summer months and the bullying I see during the games I love makes me sick to my stomach. If only one person could change the world…. Good luck to you and your family! Best wishes —H

  41. Reblogged this on middlekingdom1of10boyz and commented:
    I made a similar requirement of said doctor, but mine was along the lines of “I won’t date a girl that can’t or hasn’t caught a fish”. Anyone can catch a fish, right?

    • I can only catch fish if my dad is with me. He has some kind of magic fish voodoo.

      • Don’t believe the whole voodoo thing, but I have been accused of being able to catch a fish out of 5-gallon bucket I just filled with a garden hose too. As long as a she could catch one, she was a keeper. You can tell a lot about someone that will pierce a worm with hook and then unhook a fish flipping and flopping.

  42. Pingback: Physical Education - Bounty Hunter « Unseen World

  43. Pingback: One Thousand Suckers Born Every Day | Rants from the Crib

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