Well, I suck at sports. That’s the first thing you need to know about this story.
Not your regular sucking at sports.. but.. like.. I’m extra sucky.
In 4th grade I played basketball. I remember missing the basket every time during practice and having to rebound my own shots that ended up in other people’s courts and even the KIDS wondering how someone could be so bad. My stomach ended up in knots. I also tried soccer, gymnastics, dance, and tennis.
Tennis was awful. I was in like 9th grade and my mom made me take lessons. Well, everyone else took lessons at an appropriate age and the girl teaching the lessons was my age and the other kids were all 7. I quit after one lesson. I usually try to stick with things I’ve started but that was too much.
I also did track for 2 years in high school. I was the slowest one on the team. That is not an exaggeration. I would be halfway through the workout and girls would be on their way back or already done. My actual event was long jump and, I kid you not, I scratched at EVERY single meet that I participated in for the first year.
I decided to give sports one last try in college. I was on an intramural kickball team. My wimpy band of freshmen lost against senior football players in like 15 minutes. After that, I decided I was perfectly content cheering from the sidelines.
That was quite a long intro to what will be a shorter story. However, before continuing, you need to understand how much I HATE playing sports because of how much I SUCK at them. Did I provide enough examples? I have more…
So, now, fast forward to present time. It has been 6 years since I have played an organized sport. But, I remain an optimist. When Matt’s aunt asked me to play on her sand volleyball team for a one day tournament I figured it could be fun. You see, those 6 years stifled the pain of always being last, always missing the ball, and always looking like a dumbass.
So, Saturday rolled around. I spent all of Friday night and all of Saturday morning being nervous. I text my mom asking for her to be my mommy again and tell me I could do it. She told me to suck it up, try my best, and look forward to the beer at the end. That I could do.
Well, the game started, I hit it over a few times.. everything was okay. Then this huge athletic dude in a blue cut-off started serving for the other team. I was in the back center.
Time out: before the story continues, I need to tell you that I can’t set. I only know how to bump the volleyball. Thanks, Mrs. Taft for teaching me that one skill in your 5th grade volleyball day camp.
Ok, resume: So, he served and it was heading straight towards me. I didn’t really know how to back up enough and get under it to bump it. I needed to set it, but it was flying towards me, and I panicked. Well, too bad for me because it ended up smashing me in the face.
To make matters worse, he obviously got to serve it again and he did the same thing and I did the same thing and I got hit in the mother fucking face AGAIN.
Yes it left a bruise.
I also tried to hit the ball at various other times during the game and air balled at least 3 times, and when I served I missed getting it over (or even still on the court) all but once.
I’m not making it up. I did play better the next game, thank GOD.
You better believe that after game beer was the best damn beer I’ve ever had.
P.S. I’m going back for more tonight – one of Matt’s friends signed me up to be on his volleyball team that plays EVERY Thursday night. At least in this league drinking during the game is much encouraged. I guess I’m going to have to get good quick.
Or buy some heavy duty bruise covering foundation.
Wish me luck!