Do you remember that one kid in gym class when you were a kid who always gave you crap? Maybe you don't. Maybe you were awesome at sports. Maybe you could catch a ball.
Actually, I was great at catching balls when I was a kid. I caught them with my face.
It's funny what sticks with you from childhood. Of all the hours I spent in gym class there are really only a handful events that stick out in my mind and most of those were at least somewhat unpleasant. In particular I remember two boys - very althletic boys - at least one of whom appeared to derive some amount of pleasure from intimidation and harassment.
The first was in my class as in the eighth grade. He was tall and good looking; popular. Rumor had it that he had been held back a year in school so that he would be older and better primed for his high school basketball career. He was also loud, arrogant and pushy. I always shied away from him and one day he called me out on it.
"You don't like me very much, do you?"
"No. I really don't."
"Why not?"
"Do you want me to give you a list?"
"Sure."
So I gave him a list. I told him exactly what I thought in all my awkward, tye-dyed pants, Tevas with mismatched socks wearing glory. I don't remember what exactly I said but I do remember feeling kind of awful about it later. To this day I don't really know whether he deserved it.
I do know that he was a jerk in gym. He made fun of those of us who were clumsy or didn't know the rules to popular sports (what the hell is a forward lateral anyway? You can either throw the ball forward or laterally, but logically you can't do both at once, particularly if you don't know football). He didn't play in a way that felt very sporting. I always wished I could somehow really stick it to him.
Then one day I did. We were playing basketball, I was defending him when he had the ball. He turned around to shoot an easy two pointer and I jumped and stuffed it in his face. I have no idea whether the block was legal. Then we had kind of a moment. I don't know who was more surprised. We stared at each other and no one said a word. I wish I knew what he had been thinking. What I was thinking was, "so that's what basketball's supposed to feel like!"
The second was my very last semester in gym in high school. I was almost done with the entire lamentable experience. Most of my time in that class was spent wishing that swimming was a part of gym. I was on the varsity swim team and at least it would have been one thing where I could demonstrate some level of competency. Instead, we played softball.
We actually did a lot of things but I remember the softball. For the record, all balls hurt when they hit you in the face, but softballs hurt A LOT. Knowing this, I chose to sidestep a particularly hard line drive one day and unsuccessfully tried to catch it by throwing out my arm. This caused the bully of our class - Eric - to come at me in a rage. I don't remember what he said but I do remember my reaction to it. Fuck You. Instead I said nothing and chose to give him a blank stare.
There are any number of things I wish I could say to them now and none of them are worth typing here. It would be the worst kind of petty payback to throw my awesome life into their face over events they may not even remember. Still, I have to admit that the fire inside burns a little brighter every time I think about them. Motivation comes in many forms.
<posted on 4.17.12>
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