Athletically Challenged

Sports? Never been my strong suit.

Okay...that’s an understatement.

I was born without any athletic capability whatsoever.

I’m the sort of dork who’s ready to drop in a dead faint at the mere mention of making me play a sport. I think I even developed a chronic eye spasm where P.E. was involved.

They say P.E.’s the easiest subject. Sure, it’s easy...if you had at least an ounce of athletic talent in you. But what about the dweeb who sees P.E. as complete mental, physical and emotional torture?

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating but really, what about the athletically incapacitated?

I was sitting in P.E. class when this thing you’re reading started brewing in my head. I was curled up in the corner, leaning against the wall, watching my block mates as they swam around the ice cold water of the swimming pool. I was supposed to be in there with them, freezing to death and practicing the flutter kick thingy but instead, there I was, sitting in the corner.

Due to bloody circumstances that prove that I am in fact, a female, and the intermittent pain that comes with those circumstances, I can say that I had a valid excuse to sit it out.

As I quietly observed the swimming class, “memorable” moments from my past kept flashing in my mind’s eye. I think my chronic eye spasm was acting up again.

~*~*~*~*~

“DOOOOODGEBAAAAAALLLL!!” Someone yelled and I let out a strangled yelp as the ball hurtled towards me. Tucking my head under my arms, the ball missed me by millimetres. I ran in the opposite direction as the ball went flying.

Throughout my grade school, every P.E. class involved dodge ball. Dodge ball was okay. All you had to do was avoid the stupid ball and you’re pretty much alive. But then again, the school didn’t own a real dodge ball, which is why my classmates used a freakin’ basketball as a makeshift dodge ball. You can’t imagine how many bruises I acquired though six freakin’ years of playing dodge ball.

Dodge ball. Take one.

“STYX! Watch out!” Someone yelled and I turned. The last thing I saw was something orange before...
“OOOOWWW....” I curled up in a ball, my hands on my face. Yeah. I was hit. I was hit right in the face.

Dodge ball. Take two.

“STYX! Get out of the way!” Someone yelled and I obeyed. The ball ruffled my hair but missed me, nonetheless. I heard some of my classmates yell and I turned.
“OOOOOWWWWW...” I was on the ground, my arms wrapped around my middle. Yep. Hit right in the gut.

Dodge ball. Take three.

“STYX!” Someone yelled and I started to turn.
“OOOOOWWWW....” I was curled up in a ball, my arms thrown over my head. I didn’t even get to turn. I was hit right in the back of the head.

Dodge ball. Take four.

“STYX! MOVE!” Someone yelled and the stupid ball missed me. I ducked again as another one whizzed past me. As the years passed, I got used to the game. I turned and the ball missed me. Avoiding the ball became a lot easier. I ducked and the ball hit the girl behind me. But then again, some of the boys had a really good aim. I cussed as the ball missed my face again and staggered backwards.

“OOOOWWW....” I tripped on the stupid, stupid orange ball on the ground, fell flat on my ass and scraped my elbow. I was examining the abrasion when the basket ball went flying out of nowhere and hit me on the side of the head.

“OOOOWWW!” I stood up and almost fell back down, disoriented by the effects of my sudden movement and the ball hitting my head.

“WHO THREW THE STUPID BALL?!” I said angrily.
“It wasn’t me!” Andrew said, his hands raised as if in surrender.

Freakin’ Hell. I was ready to kill.

*~*~*~*~*~

High School P.E. was different. There were two swimming classes, a basketball class, a volleyball class and a basic self defence class.

Basic self defence was okay. There’s nothing much that I can screw up but the other classes...Well, let’s just say that it’s a different story.

Swimming Class.

“Ok, first half girls, back stroke.” Ms. Hernandez watched as we practiced the back stroke. I liked back stroke. It was the only stroke that I can, more or less, do. But I’m not so sure I can do it anymore, though.

“Be careful not to hit your head against the gutter. Ang mauntog may minus.”

Ouch. Crap.

I sank down the water and emerged a moment later. The first thing I saw was Ms. Hernandez looking at me with an amused expression.

“Mmmm.” She shook her head. “May nauntog na. Kasasabi ko lang.”

Basketball

“Ms. Perez, ang hirap maka-shoot eh.” I said, agitation crawling into my voice.

“Kaya mo ‘yan.” She said, amusedly. “Maka shoot ka lang ng lima, pasado ka na.”

“E, miss wala pa nga akong nash-shoot eh.” I said stoically.

“Ah. Sabi ko nga.” She chuckled.

“Miss naman eh!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~

During the rare occasion that my parents and my brother succeeded in dragging me out of my bed so early in the morning on a Saturday, we would go to the park. I’d ride around on my bike while they jog. Sometimes they’d ask me to join them in playing badminton. Badminton. They, of all people, should know how good I am in playing sports. I had better luck at decapitating someone’s head with a racket than hitting the shuttlecock.

It was a bright and sunny day. I was on my bike, Gatorade bottle in hand. My brother was playing with his basketball whilst my parents were paying badminton.

I heard my mother call my name and I turned my bike around, heading towards her direction. She was asking me to play a round of badminton with her. Okaaaay...

I agreed but I was less than willing. It started out harmlessly enough. I haven’t decapitated anyone with my racket so things were more or less okay.

Mom’s serve sent the shuttlecock flying upwards. I looked up, searching for the shuttlecock that I hoped would fall towards my direction. I didn’t have my glasses on so I couldn’t see where the stupid thing was. Combined with the glare of the sun, I barely saw anything that might fall from the sky.

“Where is it?!” I scowled, dropping my arm holding the racket to my side. “OOOOWW...” I staggered back and my hands flew towards my forehead in reflex to the pain. The shuttlecock practically dive-bombed my forehead.

*~*~*~*~*~

My eye was still twitching as the memories ebbed away and I was back in the reality of my sad existence as a teenager deprived of athletic talent. I sighed and realized that the class was being dismissed. I picked up my stuff and waited outside for my friends.

Sitting on the bench outside the pool area, I realized all my defunct attempts in playing sports wasn’t that that humiliating. Sure, it was embarrassing but hey, it’s something that I can always look back to and laugh about. I’ve long ago accepted the fact that I have zero hand-eye coordination and was better off wasting my energy in things that I had the ability to do. I was better at drowning than swimming, I was better at taking pictures than playing basketball, I was better at riding a bike than playing badminton and I was better off writing than playing volleyball.

Being an athletic reject isn’t that bad.

It’s frustrating.

But not bad.