Sports!

Sports and I never fit well together no matter how much I tried. I’ve done various sports of different kinds but I was never good at any. For some reason, that surprised everyone. Well, I know the reason. I just never understood it. People felt that my body, the one I had back when I was a kid and a teen anyway, was the fit and sporty type. Of course, I only received that comment when I was fully clothed. No one ever gave me that comment at the pool.

I tried soccer, karate, baseball, basketball, squash, tennis, skating – though some may argue it’s not a sport on its own, it’s hard to play hockey or figure skate if you can’t skate well in the first place – and more. So various sports, different sorts. The only time I ever showed any skill was in volleyball with my serve. Alas, that’s the only thing I could do properly in that sport. I’ll share some of my experiences for specific sports that I recall for the sake of amusement or making someone out there feel less alone for this.

Soccer: I played soccer for about 5 or 6 summers. My parents kept signing me up even though I didn’t care for it. I don’t remember the earlier years but I remember my last year. I was on a team that lost every single game that summer and some of it was my fault in a sense. Being a nerd for rules, I stayed behind the line as my position was meant to do (I was closer to the net). For those of you who have been on kid teams or have watched them, you probably know that no one listens to where they’re supposed to be and they all chase the ball. Everyone on the team other than me and the goalie (with the exception of a couple of times) went after the ball. There were times when if there had been 1 more person to help out there, we probably could have gotten the ball and maybe scored instead of it finishing the other way around. There was also the pressure of actually stopping the other team’s person with the ball when I was the only one still on our side of the field. There was no right move ever for me from my view. Then one day, there was my big moment. One of the few times I got the ball and kicked it. I kicked it good rather than a small one to pass it. I was so proud of myself… until I realized I had kicked it towards my own team’s net. Fortunately, I was not a good kicker so it didn’t go in. Still, my team wasn’t happy.

Karate: I did karate twice as a kid. Once when I was about 7 and again when I was about 12. This is when I was 12. They made me restart my ranking at the new dojo. I had only gotten to the 2nd level the last time and that had been years ago so it was fair. I passed the 1st test easily enough. I wanted to do better for karate and stick to it so getting my rank back was uplifting. My next test though didn’t go well. I failed it. Multiple times. I didn’t know what I did wrong. The teacher told me only that they didn’t feel any umph from my motions. After the third fail, they gave me a small sticker stripe of the colour of the next belt to encourage me and make me think I was close. As if I didn’t know it was out of pity. So I quit. I really wanted to be good at karate but when I kept failing because of some stupid inner feeling that was expected out of me in the early levels that no one would actually explain or teach me, I just felt like a failure. (Note: as negative as this experience was, it pushed me in another direction for martial arts later in life that totally made up for it. I had another opportunity to take karate but because of my second round, I chose a different class and it was awesome)

The best for last. Squash: I played squash for years as a kid. At least 4, more or less all-year round. I really liked it and my parents even got me a personal teacher at one point to help me. At the start, I wasn’t good at all. Still, every year, I felt confident that I would improve and become skilled. I enjoyed playing and put in a lot of effort to become what I wanted to be. At so many moments, I thought I was making progress. However, tournaments proved me wrong. These were regular weekend tournaments where the only requirements were to show up and give money to the place holding them. I think I played against 4 to 8 people total each time. Every game, every single game, I lost. I’m not kidding or exaggerating. Sometimes I got my ass kicked and finished with 0 points or “love” as they called it. I sure didn’t feel the love – just tell me I have 0 points! Once or twice, I almost won. Almost. Else, I finished with a few points and the other people got 20 or however many points was needed to win. I really tried to stay positive because I enjoyed it but after years of seemingly not progressing at all, I couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped playing. I mean c’mon, I couldn’t even win 1 game. Not a single 1.

So yeah, despite what my body may have told people, I was never good at sports. Not then, and definitely not now.