Here’s what I want to believe: that I’m just not as nimble as I was when I was thirteen years old. But talking it over with Jorge this morning, we came to the agreement that perhaps I wasn’t nearly as awesome at it (back in the day) as I like to think. Little kids—even the sporty ones or the overgrown, brutish ones—can't throw particularly fast. Playing against grown-ups can be like trying to dodge cannon fire. That said, I don’t want to oversell our competition. They were okay. Far and away the best thrower was on our team. But I would have to say that eight of ten throws, coming in my direction and with any decent velocity, hit me pretty squarely. There are two flaws to my dodging strategy:
- I start the dodge before the ball has even been released
- During the dodge, my limbs move like crazy but my core stays in just about the exact same spot
Holy hell, did I play some lousy dodgeball.
But it’s not all bad news. We won, and by a good margin, which is always awesome. And I got my moment. I finished a game with two against me, picking one of them off, then catching the next throw immediately afterward. Outside of that, I played a pretty craptastic couple of games.
The strangest thing of all is that I want to improve at this more than any other sport we’ve played. And I don’t know why. It’s such a fundamentally stupid sport. Nobody cares if you’re good at dodgeball. It’d be like training to be better at Red Rover. And yet, I want so very badly to improve. To the point where I’m rethinking my diet and wondering if yoga would help my flexibility. This feeling will probably go away with the next eight hours. Probably.
Whatever. It was a good time. And everyone came back to our place afterward, which was hella fun. For the record: Booze and Sundaes are the new Wine and Cheese. You heard it here first.
Comments
Kermitesque.
You heard that hear first.
Diving
Dancing
Divining
Dildo
Don't look at me.
I didn't make those up.