Growing up I never played any
“organized” sports. The biggest reason was my inability to have
any coordination. Walking in a straight line was tough enough. If
they ever do a MRI on my cerebellum, they'll probably find it was
wired by God's stand-in on the Tuesday night overnight shift.
That doesn't mean I didn't like sports.
I preferred the ones where there were no strict rules to memorize
and abide by. Pick up games in the street were good enough. In gym
class, we would play “murder ball” where twenty basketballs were
loosened onto the court and two teams would try to “take out”
opposing members by hitting them. I excelled at that as I could duck,
twist and jump to avoid being hit and understood that when aiming at
a running target, you “led” them and threw the ball where they
would eventually end up in a second.
Through grammar and high school, there
were the Golden Boys who excelled at any sport and were revered for
it. In Jr High I knew of one kid called Doug S. He was a naturally
gifted athlete where most sports skills came easy to him.
I can remember being bitched at for
“traveling” during a basketball game we had then. Since I didn't
give a crap about basketball I never learned the rules. I thought it
stupid that I couldn't run the damn ball down the court w/o having to
bounce it every damn three steps. “I thought the object was to get
the ball down to the other side of the court?” I'd complain. The
others rolled their eyes at me.
So, like most people ,what you don't
excel at or even achieve mediocrity with, you dislike. Why do
something that only brings the derision of others? It turned into a
self fulfilling prophecy. I sucked at sports skills and refused to
practice at them as the disdain from the others made want to leave
anyway.
But one day I kicked Dougie S's ass and
nearly caused a fight.
In ninth grade, we had gym at Goff and
it was then run by a Mr Charland. He was OK I guess as he knew half
the class were filled with kids that had two left hands and legs. So,
he apportioned the spots on teams accordingly too. He had a bigger
job of corralling a bunch of 14 year old boys than trying to teach
us games.
Charland, had to come up with
activities to keep us busy. One thing he dreamed up was a one on one
competition where we had to throw a soccer ball from the centerline past a goalie
guarding a hockey net. I was paired up with
Dougie who was guarding the net.
On the sidelines, mouthy predictions
said that this was going to be a short game as Dougie would whip me
in a few minutes. I thought so too.
Dougie was so confident that he was too
busy basking in the light when I shot one by right by him and scored a
point. It was after that that he became serious. I then thought of
something as I saw his plan. He'd watch my eyes to see where I throw
the ball. I then would falsely look to say, the left corner of the
goal and then wind up and throw but use the other part of my vision
to aim at the right side.
Dougie, reading me, was leaning, already moving to the wrong side of the net where my focus was and the ball slipped right by him into the other side of the goal.
I kept doing this, switching from side
to side on occasion and using that the fake eye aim and racked up
twenty points and won. He never picked up on the fact I was duping
him the entire time with just eye contact.
At the end of the game, you could see
he was visibly upset. Here I was, a proven goober in sports and I
completely shut him down. The other kids on the sidelines, started
speaking of cheating to where one of them yelled it out. I guess
their Hero needed some reason for failing.
I then said to the sidelines, “If I
cheated, then you are calling Mr Charland a LIAR.” Charland had
been sitting in a folding chair the entire time watching us play.
Charland answered the kids' accusation
with a simple, “He didn't cheat.” That wasn't what the kids
wanted to hear but I got the best validation ever.
I didn't gloat outwardly but I was
inside and it must've come out because I was beaming like sunshine. I
didn't say a word but my body language displayed it all. Those around
me I swear were still grumbling.
I didn't know what a problem I created
by whipping him so soundly. As the day progressed, as the classes
changed, a lynch mob was forming to “teach me a lesson.” I got
word of it finally in Mr Holt's class as most of the most pissed off
kids were there including Dougie.
One of the kids told the story to Mr
Holt about how I creamed Dougie in that game and Mr Holt had to
congratulate me. I then used my best manipulation to ease off the
mob's pressure which was boiling to the point of jumping me en masse
outside the school. I directed a question to Dougie who sat in the
front of the class.
“You're not mad are you? I mean,
you're not one of those SORE losers are ya?” I
did emphasize the word sore, but just enough...just enough, being
careful not to have it sound sarcastic at all.
It seemed that being accused as a
sore loser was the trick. Doug now had to come off
as a defeated, but entirely noble and moral athlete. His little
speech stunned the others who were hoping to shove my face in the
dirt after the last class. He disarmed their anger by courteously
“bowing” to my victory and trying to come off as gracious as he
could.
As far as I figured, I scored another
twenty points against Dougie and the others by defrauding them out of
their planned retribution on me.
Sometimes it's sooo easy.
*****
A week later, Mr Charland took me aside
to ask, “How I did manage to beat Dougie?” I told him about
letting Dougie read my intentions then switched it on him. He said,
“Don't tell them what you did, then they'll really get pissed. To
tell you the truth, the “fakes, curve balls and deceit are all
strategies and are entirely legal in sports and what you did was
perfect! Hell, I couldn't tell what you did!”
Add another twenty points!
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