Confession; Re: the Not that Awesome Post…

Posted: May 4, 2011 in Uncategorized

I was never picked last for gym class.  Quite the opposite really, and this was back in the day when now such outlawed barbarism like Dodge Ball, Red Rover, and King of the Mountain were totally acceptable physical education activities.  Hell, I took PE as electives in High School and College….so true enough, I have No Idea What it is like to be picked last for gym class. 

I do however, know exactly what it is like to be considered the dumb jock…and even WORSE that being a dumb jock is being a dumb female jock…because girls don’t get NFL contracts or make the money male athletes do-so unless you are good enough to go Olympic- as a female?  Well, nothing more useless in society than a girl who is good (but not excellent) at sports (plural).  And I can tell you this, once you get past about, oh, grade school, and things like looks, money, class, hotness, boyfriends and all that shit start mattering more than getting picked first for gym class amid one’s peers?  Shit changes….and everyone who is still fuckin’ bitter at you for being first picked in gym class or possessing deadly and brutal accuracy with a Dodge Ball…they will make you pay.  They will, in fact, take revenge.

And it is that revenge attitude I was talking about in my previous not cat post there, the glee those who never got picked in gym class take in pointing out how much better they are than you, or anyone else really, now.

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Comments
  1. sheniver says:

    But I never got picked first for gym, or anything. I actually once had a teacher forget to put me on a recess team. And to this day I am not most people’s first choice for anything but the regular standby when all others fail.

    But being picked first for anything, is better than never being picked at all.

  2. Erik Schwarz says:

    You “Picked First in Gym Class” people constitute an entitled elite and considerations of social justice rather than personal resentment demand that the rest of us give you grief. It is your fault that we don’t feel fulfilled/have lousy self-images/make less money than we deserve/ate too much at lunch today/and own cats that pee on the carpet. As a class, you are responsible for my spending so much time on the bench of my college lacrosse team (never mind that I inadvisedly switched from midfield to attack even though my best skills were faceoffs and transition defense, and the drinking and drugs did not exactly enhance my fitness and game readiness). You are to blame for all of it, especially if you were an ace at Dodge Ball. (Somehow the very words bring to mind the apoplectic face and lycra-clad body of Ben Stiller as the villain of the movie “Dodgeball” and I begin to chuckle. Which makes my colleagues wonder about my sanity and lose respect for me, and that is your fault too!)

  3. Kim says:

    I’m horrible at team sports, didn’t get picked last only because I was fairly well-liked, but I imagine it’s horrible. But it’s a great analogy — so far, my blog has remained free of this shit. Crossing my fingers it stays that way!

  4. rootietoot says:

    I was always picked last, being dorky, unathletic and The One Everyone Hated. It was humiliating and eventually the teachers caught on and didn’t make me participate.

  5. Erik Schwarz says:

    Ren, we are closing in on you: sheniver, Kim, rootietoot, me and a mob of many thousands more who were never picked first in gym class. We are flat-footed, wall-eyed, painfully thin, grotesquely fat, dragging vestigial limbs – like the denouement of Tod Browning’s “Freaks” but without the auteurial restraint. And we all carry dodge balls in our misshapen hands. Twist and turn as you may, you cannot escape us until BOOM! You’re out! And you have to go shoot baskets or play on the swingset.

    • Ren says:

      Dude. Shen is my freakin parole officer and first choice for excessive drinking.

      • Erik Schwarz says:

        No doubt we all love you, but you must pay for being picked first in gym class and outdoing the field in dodgeball. Affection however heartfelt cannot be allowed to stand in the way of justice/revenge. Afterwards, the excessive drinking can begin.

  6. For some reason, I was picked second or third to last. Rarely all the way last. I have no idea why, except that I have lousy coordination and it was probably obvious enough.

    If the matter was strength (I’m an ox you see) I would get picked closer to first, like the time we had girl’s arm-wrestling. Fuck coordination, I will take your ass down! LOL

    • Erik Schwarz says:

      Lousy coordination, oxlike strength, habitually picked second or third to last…you are a perfect fit for our terrifying mob. You may pick up your dodge ball and fright wig at Central Casting. Feel free to wear the Grateful Dead tee-shirt of your choice, but please be advised that “Skullf*ck” motifs are encouraged and dancing bears discouraged.

  7. Wait, did you say no more Red Rover? What kind of American childhood is THAT??? But yeah I don’t recall my daughter playing it, now that you mention it.

    I could kick butt with that one too! 😉 Sometimes they would drop the link and just let me through, after I seriously hurt one boy’s wrist. BAD ASS! 😀

  8. Aspasia says:

    I was well-known as one of the roughest of the “ballerina girls” in gym class and thus, struck fear into the hearts of those wussier than I. One of the benefits of having an older brother who will give you purple-nurples and “Indian burns” and wedgies, gender be damned. I learned how to return the favor and harder too! This is my favorite secret weapon: I may be wearing very nice clothes, make-up, jewelry and all those other feminine things I love, but I will drop your ass in a second and I know how to throw my purse like I’m playing Dodgeball again.

    Though, rope climbing? Absolute favorite. I was the ONLY person in my class to get all the way to the top. Freaked out my gym teacher since the top was about three storeys high!

    Removing dodgeball from gym class means kids don’t learn important things about life. Like, how to dodge out of danger, instead of walking straight into it (unless you’re strapped, then, march on); how to throw a ball and smite thine enemies; that bruises heal and they are funny stories when you reach adulthood; that some people are assholes but you can return the favor; and so on.

    • Erik Schwarz says:

      Has dodgeball been banned from school? If so, that is a shame. I loved playing the game when I was a kid. Not sure it taught me life lessons as you aver – drinking and drugs might be more responsible in my case – but dodgeball was a lot of fun.

      • rootietoot says:

        nope, no dodgeball. not at the public school, anyway.Someone Might Get Hurt. My 12 yr old goes to a private school where they play an abomination called “Philball” that is a hybrid of dodgeball, soccer and basketball…but the school is small enough to fly under the radar.

      • Aspasia says:

        Yeah, what Rootie said. It’s a damn shame. It was a huge uproar about 7-8 years ago, removing Dodgeball and other games and things that may hurt Timmy and Molly at school. **eyeroll** No wonder so many of these kids are later traumatized by the reality of life and that very few people “play nice”. Especially if they move into a large town or city.

        • rootietoot says:

          Here in the South it’s Jordan and HannahGrace. Fortunately my older kids went to Bohunk Ala public school that were 15-20 years behind, and learned dodgeball, and even tho #4 was 12 years younger and missed out, they taught him the lessons he needed.

  9. I never talk about this, but I was once asked to be on a woman’s pro football team. I’d heard all my life that I had the shoulders of a fullback, and finally, someone actually ASKED ME to be a fullback.

    I used to go to a park where they practiced and had at first believed they were young teenage boys. Finally the coach came over and asked me if I’d ever played (no) and then said he’d been looking for a woman with shoulders like mine! Believe it or not, I was devastated! (too young to appreciate the compliment). Now, of course, the story can be told. But it upset me terribly at the time: “I really do look like a fullback!” I’m short, but was more or less average height compared to the whole team. I knew instinctively, I could do it, and considered it for a millisecond, but my pride got the better of me. (Also, I hate pain and I know football hurts.)

    But that should give you an idea of how I look in person. My daughter once got down to 105 lbs (she says, looked like less to me) and she still had wide/big shoulders, muscular arms, beefy thighs (in fact, this was the only place she had ANY weight on her) and tearfully informed me it was all my (genetic) fault. (Sorry, I said, in the nasty tone we take with the teenagers)

    • Erik Schwarz says:

      Sounds as though you and your daughter are built for rugby. Though it does involve some bumps and bruises, serious orthopedic injuries are far rarer than in football. Ren can tell you all about it. Some of my friends played rugby but I never did, and the drinking songs were much too filthy for me to join in. Unless I was drunk.

  10. Roy Kay says:

    I usually got picked last or near to last. I found that worked to my advantage. They’d say “Move in. Kay can’t hit.” and they were RIGHT! Sort of. I’d get easy singles 30 feet past the base line as the infield moved into bunt territory and the outfield lazily watched the clouds go by. Same with pick up games of football – easy to stop, but you DID have to make contact, and I was pretty scrawny and easy to miss. I rather enjoyed hearing “Who was suppose to take Kay out?”

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