Sticks and Sand
During my secondary school years, I was encouraged to try a variety of sports. If you knew me well, that comment alone would have you in stitches. I am not a sporty person. My feet like to be kept firmly on the ground and my arms and hands have a life of their own. Clumsy is probably the best word to describe it.
I tried throwing the javelin. I couldn’t fathom how to get that oversized, spiked twig to travel forwards and was quickly banned after lobbing it sideways. It landed at the feet of my sports teacher. Oops!
I did make it to the field hockey team. Although, I think the little success I did achieve was more about the overzealous wielding of the hooked piece of wood at my opponents rather than technique. I can’t remember ever hitting the ball, just hacking at the earth and scaring off everyone within close proximity.
Summer season meant athletics and the triple jump. I was quite excited to have a go at this but my feet thought otherwise. I didn’t even make it to the sand. I am more adept at making sandcastles, much to the disgust of my sports teacher.
Then there was tennis. A sport I love. I remember taking part in a tournament and low and behold I made it to the final. But things got out of control due to a wardrobe malfunction. In the middle of play, I hit a brilliant lob which caused the zip on my skirt to break. The skirt fell to my ankles. And that was that. My one chance of sporting success ending in raucous laughter and I just couldn’t hit the ball again. Another look of disgust from my sports teacher, but my friend and I had a blast, at my expense.
Are you sporty or do you prefer to watch others do it?