A Dodgeball Story

Hey Gang,

Big Q here.  I just wanted to say “thanks” to everyone who came out in the chilly weather to participate in the World of Texas Dodgeball Challenge this past Saturday.  It’s always nice to find a sport that you can compete in at any age.  For me, dodgeball has held a special spot in my psyche since my high school freshman year.

As it happens I’m old enough to know what high school was like before the P.C. police got their “fair” hands on it. Embarrassing the perceived weaker kids was an excepted way of teaching.  It was thought that it toughened you up.  Or it broke you.  You either found your way in an “athletic” world, or you took your big brains and lack of social skills and retreated to the safety of your room.

Let’s be honest with each other, without this way of teaching, the computer age would’ve never come about.  Do you think Bill Gates, and the dead guy from Apple (Steve Jobs) would’ve been able to steal, sorry, invent the operating systems which we use today if they weren’t embarrassed in gym class?  I think not. As for me, dodgeball taught me a very valuable lesson.  Don’t talk shit!

I was always a stranger in strange land.  Not athletic enough to be considered a jock, and not smart enough to be considered a nerd.  I just bounced back and forth between the two, moving to the other when the one I was currently in tired of me.

Then one day during a dodgeball game, the sun shined on my ass.  I was unbeatable.  My hands were made of glue.  I caught everything thrown at me.  One ball, two balls, three balls four, is that all you got bitches, bring me more!  The final game came down to my shit talking ass, and one of my best friends, who, beat me 8 times out 10 at any sport we chose to play.

I, being the immature type, started talking even more junk as I dodged his best efforts.  I then grabbed a ball and reared back my hefty arm, an arm I might say, that, to this day, still has a rotator cuff of a 4 year old, and let fly with all my might.

Slam!  Went the ball into my friends’ mid-section.  It hit with so much force that he doubled over.  Victory was mine!  I raised my arms in the air and let out a primal cheer, until the realization hit…he didn’t drop the ball.  He folded around the ball and held on.  Casey just struck out.

All the smack I talked came back at me ten fold.  Banished, I was, back to the pack of the non-athletic.  I had to live with that loss since.  The match was mine to lose, and I lost.  But, in the end, I was not broken.  I learned that talking shit was not in my nature.  I learned how to lose, an in turn, how to win with grace.  But, I really didn’t want that to be my last dodgeball memory.

So, I took my middle aged butt, and my thin blood, and stepped up to the court.  My team didn’t win a match, but at least I lost with dignity, and even was able to catch a few balls. In my mind, my performance didn’t embarrass me, although the bike helmet was an issue.

But, better safe than dead.   It was a nice way to go out.  I can now walk away from a sport I loved.

Big Q, retired Dodgeballer.