but I can kick my leg clear over a parking meter...

Great Sports Moments of my Past:

1. Dun Laoghaire, Ireland, early eighties: There I was, the first day of third grade hockey, on the field with my brand new hockey stick. I wore my very short, pleated, blue school-issue "hockey skirt." I had only the barest notion that there was something known as "hockey," and no one seemed to think they should explain anything about it to me. Miss Kelly, who was of the sadistic gym teacher mold, sensed my confusion and had me start the game, which involved a complicated and mystifying ritual of hitting my stick against the opponent's stick, in a criss-cross pattern, and maybe with some words? Then we had to kind of tussle for the ball. But I didn't tussle. I stood and felt the cold dew from the grass around my ankles, shivering from totally bare legs, and let the other girl do whatever the hell she felt she needed to do with that ball. Jeers and disgusted slurs followed.

2. Same school, different season. Tennis. I had at least some prior knowledge of the game, although I had never actually played it. Oh, perhaps I'd carelessly swung a racket once or twice when my dad played at family reunions. Anyway, I had never been expected to make ball/racket contact, and was unable to do so when told. "Bounce, hit," chanted Miss Kelly, "Bounce, hit." All around me the balls bounced, and girls like me hit it. Miss Kelly trained her beady eyes on me. "Except for you," she yelled, and all the girls turned to watch. "For you it's bounce, miss. Bounce, miss. Bounce, miss."

3. Last spring, fifth grade vs. staff kickball game. I'm up to kick. I feel ok, because I am good at kicking; kicking is a skill that I have. Ask me to kick my leg over a parking meter sometime. I am really good at that. OK, so, I kick and get to first; I'm also not bad at running. Then the next teacher is up. I yell to my coworker Andy to please tell me what I need to do after the next person kicks. Tell me if I should run or stay put, or what. I have no idea what to do if someone doesn't tell me. Sure, I can run and kick, but I can't follow the progress of a game. I just can't. Andy promises to prompt me towards small personal dignity, but then the teacher's kick is so phenomenal he becomes transfixed and forgets all about me. I'm still waiting for a cue from Andy, so I just stand there, when I should have been rounding bases. I ruined the whole inning for my team, and, well, it wasn't so good.

4. Egg & Spoon Race at Field Day, fourth grade: Almost to the finish line, I stumble. The egg tumbles out of the spoon. I recover it and still manage to snag third. Still, a first place ribbon is what I had in mind. Luckily I was paired with a very athletic girl for the three-legged race, and damned if we didn't get first! One of my life's most victorious moments.

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On a totally unrelated note, I'm glad Salon has an article today about that stupid new agey book "The Secret." I find this whole philosophy to be so freaking odious. More and more, I hear people imply that you just need to make it clear to "the universe" if you want or need something, and you will be taken care of. Oh, but you have to really MEAN it, or the universe won't give it to you. Such an arrogant way of thinking. Are you one of the BILLIONS of poor people on the planet? Well, I guess you just haven't been asking the universe hard enough for wealth, so it's kind of your own fault! Sick with cancer? I guess you just haven't really let the universe know that you'd prefer to be healthy. Bad things happening to you? Well... what have you done, or not done, to make them happen?