No More, No More, No More, No More

Here’s a secret about me:  I love to play sports.  I love soccer and volleyball and baseball and basketball.  I love them all!  For some, this might surprise you.  Why?  Because I’m especially NOT good at sports.  If you know me, you’ve seen me play.  Yikes.   And as you may have gathered from my bowling story, it’s a tragedy to watch me play anything.  And still, I catch myself from time to time daydreaming about blocking a ball in soccer with my head (How cool would that be?!) or making a three pointer basket (in basketball, duh) or perfectly spiking the ball in volleyball.  Man.  I wish I was that good.  But alas, I was born with this deficiency.  No matter how hard I try to improve, it’s just flat out impossible.  Athletic is not my middle name.  

Here’s another secret about me:  I HATE playing sports for dates.  I usually tell the guy straight up that I’m terrible at playing.  And of course, he just thinks I’m being modest and pushes  for me to play.  So, I cave and then he discovers the awful truth that I really am bad.  Poor fellow.  I always hate to disappoint.  I keep giving it a try though because there’s always hope that someday I may whip out that perfect pitch and blow everyone’s mind away.  Ha.  Above all, I really just like to do what other people enjoy doing.  I participate more for the atmosphere and quality time well spent.   It makes for happy people.  Except for when I smack someone in the face….

And there was one occasion when sitting out of a game would have been a better idea…

I was 20 and had been dating my at-the-time boyfriend for about 5 months.  We got to the point where he decided it was time for me to meet his family.  His extended family.  e ie He invited me to his family reunion.  GAH.  Goodness knows what I was thinking at the time to actually accept the invite.  I did and I went.  

I had already met his immediate family.  I was over at his house at least once a week and worked really hard to impress his family.  Which was not an easy task!  There was super mom and super talented sister and scary dad.  Not to mention a slew of brothers.  It was quite the hefty task!  I managed it well, for the most part.  I wasn’t too flashy with my personality and made sure to stay out of the way.  When I was invited to the family reunion, I was going to use the same tactic because heaven knows that if I reveal my entire self, things could go for the worse.  

They were a BIG Idaho family.  There were cousins, second cousins, ten sets of grandparents, and five hundred grand kids.  Ok, I’m exaggerating, but you get the picture.  And of course, they all knew each other perfectly.  I figured I could hide myself from the view of most people and present myself to those closest to my young man.  I laugh now at my ignorance.  EVERYBODY KNEW EVERYBODY!  I showed my face and I stuck out like a sore thumb!  So much for a subtle appearance.  I received sweet hellos from the grandmas and staring glances from the aunts.  I got sturdy handshakes from the grandpas, and heaps of giggles from the cousins.  Question after question came parading after me.

“Are you his wife?!  I had no idea he got married!”

“Are you serious with him?  You know, he’s such a good boy.”

“Do you have any talents? Are you as good at the piano as his sister?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Are you treating him right?”

“Do you cook? Quilt? Sew? Bake? Know how to can vegetables, fruits, and all of the above?” 

“We’re having a volleyball tournament!  Will you PLAY?!”

That’s when my stomach dropped and my face turned white.  I had desperately tried to entertain all of these people’s questions with brilliant impressive answers, but play volleyball?  I knew it wasn’t going to end well.  I almost winced, but caught myself, and after a little tugging, I was thrust onto the team opposite my boyfriend (with whom I was very upset.  He really downplayed how big of a deal my entrance was going to be).  I was put right in the middle.  The game commenced.  This was no time for daydreams of the perfect spike!  I did what I could to look like I was playing without actually playing.  The ball came at me a few times.  I hit the ball and tried to discreetly pass it on to someone else so they could hit it over with a straight shot.  I knew if I hit too hard, the ball would fly in the OPPOSITE direction.  I know myself very well.  

I honestly think that it takes MORE SKILL to play subtly and discreetly.  I

think I overworked myself because halfway through the game, I let my guard down.  The ball game flying right at me, fast and hard.  All I could see was this giant volleyball of death aiming straight for my face.  I knew it was up to me to hit the ball.  I had two choices.  I could duck and look like a lame chicken or I could jump up and slam that thing with all my might.  I chose the latter.  As I stepped forward and powered up my leg for a massive spring into the air, I tripped over something, fell forward and completely missed the ball.  Before I knew it, people were screaming at me!  Their words were jumbled masses of angry noise as I looked down to see what I had tripped over.  At my feet, crying, was a chubby toddler, who had waddled out into the middle of the game right as I ran up to hit the ball.  I didn’t see it coming and I couldn’t hide from an entire group of enraged strangers yelling at me all at once:

“WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?”

“WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!”

“YOU HURT HIM!”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU MISSED THE BALL!”

That last one came from a very upset, competitive teammate.  I was a complete failure at that point.  I patted the now uninterested toddler on the head and ran out of there as quickly as possible.  There’s nothing like a mob of angry strange relatives. I was so embarrassed.  I completely blew it.  I went and sat at a picnic bench all by myself and waited for the game to end.  I sat alone with only the disapproving stares of the aunts.  This was not my idea of fun.

As I sat there waiting to leave I decided three things:

1.     No family reunions of significant others until you are at least engaged.  That way the guy is stuck with you and will not break up with you even if family members are not impressed.  

2.    Do not use sports to try and impress.  You stink under pressure.

 3.   Always watch out for toddlers.  You step on one and you’re done for.

I live by this little list.   It’s helped keep me out of trouble over the last four years.  It’s amazing how wise I become after I fail miserably.  Oh Life.

I made it through the rest of the reunion without having to talk to anyone else (I think they were all ignoring me actually) and my boyfriend just laughed at me until he safely dropped me back off at home that evening.  I told myself I was never going to another family reunion again.  So, then why did I find myself at yet another one two weeks later, camping in the middle of the mountains with 60 strangers…..???

That’s another story for another time.