Sporty Mcsport Sport

The World Cup is on in the background. I know that I totally slammed it earlier, but since I found out that I can watch it at home and not brave drunken revellers, I thought it might be interesting. Funny enough, it is interesting. But not in the way that's intended.

It just drums in why I really hate team sports that involve running around together and trying to get goals. Really hate them. It's personal.

In Junior High, I had my nose broken by an errant soccer ball to the face. Now this would seem to be an isolated kind of occurance, right? Not exactly. I am the world's worst player. Always. Any team sport. Name one. I'm the total spaz that will inevitably be chosen last, after the chick with one leg, and with due cause. I would choose me last too. There really is nothing more pitiful on God's green earth than watching me attempt to play volleyball. Unless it's watching me try to play soccer. Or basketball. Or basically anything.

And the odd thing is that I have amazing hand/eye coordination for things like art. Thus the art degree. But with sports, it's a lost cause. I have accepted this as my lot in life.

And solo sports are ok- skiiing was fully respectable. Not excellent, but not embarrassing, either. Ditto track. (if you leave out the time I hooked a toe around a hurdle and bit it during a meet- minor embarrassment- we'll not count that)

But gymnastics....sigh...that was my true nemesis. First off, in my defense, I am tall. Quite tall. For a girl. And gymnastics is built for the stumpy girls. I can stand flat footed and wrap my hands around the tall bar on the uneven bars. This was not the intent of the uneven bars. So, my question is, "Why ask the equipment to bear an unreasonable burden?" Meaning me, of course. The gym teachers- a stumpy little bunch, the lot of them, weren't sympathetic. It was horrific. I broke my arm on the parallel bars. Seriously. I fell off of them. And had a cast up to my shoulder for 6 weeks. I also cut part of a finger off on the parallel bars- just moving them. I figured at that point that the bars had it out for me. It's hard to just walk off 8 stitches and a permanent sensitive scar (it still feels icky sometimes).

So. That's the saga of me and sports. Why I hate them. Unless there's an internal combustion engine involved, or a bicycle. Or even helmets. I kinda like football. But I never humiliated myself playing football. So no adverse associations there.

Oh- and soccer also conjures up keep away. I hated keep away. Because I was also inept at keep away. Go figure. Lanky, tall, pitiful, clumsy thing...