My Attempt at Sports

 Sports and athletics have never been something that I have particularly been good at, nor enjoyed very much at all; I tried most all of them (softball, soccer, basketball, volleyball, tag, track and field), all complete failures and reminders that I do not belong in sports.
My overall problem with sports involved a few key elements. I hated running. My tiny legs tired really quickly, and after a while I just wanted to give up and not move anymore. The only exercise my lazy ass got was dancing to Backstreet Boys or Britney Spears locked away in my room. I also hated the idea of a ball of any sort flying at my face. I became intensely paranoid and aware that it would hurt, break my glasses, and overall: cause me nothing but misery, pain, and embarrassment. Lastly, playing sports is like being an animal in a zoo. Everyone is watching your every move, waiting for you to do something funny like mess up, drop the ball, or hurt yourself. Regardless, the pressure is on.
Tag- I have hated tag ever since I first played it. I was always “it.” Because I was a bit chubby, I could never catch anyone, so I always remained “it,” until I begged and pleaded with someone else to switch with me. It's a stupid, pointless game. All you do is run in circles. You don't go anywhere, the only goal you have is to avoid being tagged; BOR-ING. Why not play a game with a point and a strategy other than running around? I did, however, enjoy freeze-tag. Because I would purposely run slow so I could get tagged and then stand still. At that point, I was safe. I could fake that I was playing the game, but I had a plan. Some kid would be playing the rules and running to come tag me. I would see them coming, and then mime the words “no, no, no,” and shoo them away. My ultimate goal was to stay frozen for as much of the game as I could.
Softball- T-ball was my favorite; I owned that shit! The ball sat on a plastic stand, which made it super easy to hit; could you ask for a better sport? One that serves the ball to you on a tee. Kids are weak so the ball was never expected to go very far. It was my comfort zone; a sport of limited expectations (I thrived). I do remember getting annoyed when kids would miss the ball. How the hell do you miss a white ball, sitting on a black plastic stand that is basically directly in the line of the bat? If you just swing, you will more than likely hit it. Also, I was competitive. I wanted to win. Whenever I would ask who won, I would get a cheesy “Everyone wins in t-ball!” Bull shit. I know I won. Whatever. I just chose to drown my frustration in snack bar snacks and a soda. My fear of a giant ball hitting me in my face kept me from moving up to softball. It was to the point that I was the tallest and the biggest kid on the team and completely dominated the other kids by hitting the ball with my monstrous “older toddler” arms. I played t-ball up until I was about 8 years old. I was a Jose Canseco amongst children.
I only went into softball after being forced out of my t-ball comfort zone. You can boast the importance of friendship and teamwork, which are all completely legitimate. Given that, I still hated softball. I remained terrified of the ball, so any time that I could play the furthest out in the field, I would do it. I would position myself in such a way that it became someone else's responsibility to catch the ball, diverting all responsibility and teamwork, the very lessons I was supposed to be learning. I would make myself look important and made it look like I was really going for the ball, but I would half ass it and wait for someone else to get it, acting as if I “just couldn’t get there in time.” Teamwork. I was okay with being a catcher, mainly because I was covered in padding and a face mask so that if I happened to get hit with the ball, it didn't hurt. I did, however, need major reassurance whenever I went up to hit the ball, or run the bases (really anything that involved actually being in the game). I would swing at a ball, and look back at my dad (who was often the coach) for reassurance. He would nod in approval and I would continue. The next ball would come, I would swing, and look back at him again. I kept my eyes locked on him for approval, so I knew, that if dad said I was doing a good job, then I was doing a good job. 
Soccer- I played two years of soccer. The first year sucked ass. We lost every. Single. Game. We scored about 4 points our entire season- not exaggerating. The next year my team was amazing and we went undefeated. Not because of me, but still, that was my first and last successful attempt at soccer. Once again, I chose a position that didn’t require me to take much responsibility, and watched my teammates from a distance as they gave it their all. I was focused on snack time.
o First of all, soccer is the worst game you can play when you hate running around. That is all soccer is. Running after a damn inflated ball. It’s basically track with a ball and goals.
Second of all, I am much too polite for soccer. Again, I was afraid of the ball, but I was also much too polite to just shove my leg into someone else's privacy bubble to take said ball away. 
From the moment the game started I would count down and pray for the end to come so I could go home, eat, and listen to The Backstreet Boys.
In high school, I attempted track and field. I was smart enough to know that running and jumping, or doing anything that involved too much running was NOT my forte. What I was good at, was throwing shit around. So, I chose to throw the shot put and discus. If you don't know what those are- shot put is basically an 8 pound metal ball, and the discus is a 3 pound double sided frisbee like thing.
I wasn't much good at that either, but I had minor success; the closest to sports glory I ever came. I felt like Helga the Viking Warrior tossing a giant metal ball at my enemies. I hated training and running. In between “practicing,” me and the other girls who threw would just sun themselves. 
So, what sports AM I good at? Hide and go seek. I am so kick ass. Mainly, it's because I am so tiny that I fit into ridiculously tiny spaces. I alter my breathing and I become invisible. The best part is, is that I never run for home base. I just stay there until they all give up on finding me. Thus avoiding ever being “it.” Hide and seek is a favorite of mine, mainly because I can avoid any sense of teamwork, responsibility, or athletic ability. And that is why I stay away from any further athletic endeavors.