Basketball and empty promises.
April 13, 2007

This past winter, I fell into my first-ever self-induced-pity-funk. After wallowing around for a few weeks (snapping at my husband, wishing life was more like a Hallmark commercial, and listlessly watching daytime TV) I decided to defunkify my life. My game plan was plain and simple--try new things. I thought it would be fun to mix life up a bit, and put myself out on that old proverbial limb. So I did--when I got a haircut I got some bangs, I tried exotic new recipes, I went to some swanky Dallas wine get-togethers, and I joined a basketball team. Yes, I joined a freaking basketball team.

Ladies and gentlemen, there are two reasons why I run. 1) I run so I can eat candy, cookies, chocolate, cake and cheetos, and 2) I run because I have sucked at every other sport and physical activity that I have ever participated in. It's true:

  • I used to take dance class--when everyone else did cartwheels across the stage at the annual recital, I had to do some lame-o leaps. When I enthusistically leaped out of stage right, the applause unfailingly ceased...people were confused. By the time I'd lept my way to stage left, I was crying...every year. Stupid-ass dance class.

  • I couldn't pass beginners 2 in kid-swimming. I'll be trying again this summer.

  • I took ice-skating lessons. I was awesome at circling to the left, but let me tell you, circling to the right is not as easy as it looks (this skating difficulty carried over into my short-lived ice-hockey career in 1998).

  • And finally, my fresman field hockey team had a 0-21 record...I was the goalie.

Well guess what? Now I can add baketball to my list of things that I stink at. What a shocker.

My friend Cynthia promised me that playing basketball would be fun. This, my friends, was the most empty promise of fun that I've received in my entire life. She also promised me that it wouldn't be competitive--let's just go ahead and file that in the empty promises folder, too. When woman are lacing up ankle braces and popping in mouth guards, things are bound to get a little rough.

But you know what I hate the most? When my teammates try to tell me that I'm good at basketball. "Oh, stop being so hard on yourself!" "You're not bad at this." "Nice steal!" Yup, it would have been a nice steel if I hadn't take the ball from my very own teammate. Ladies, this is a Church basketball league, we're playing this game in the house of the Lord, so let's just stop with the bold-faced lies, ok?

Bottom line? Basketball is not my thing, and the stats speak for themselves:

Games played: 2. Shots taken: 3. Points earned: 0. Rebounds: 0. Fouls: 4. Embarrassing moments: 42. Moments of confusion: 80. Spells of spontaneous crying: 1. Holding back spells of spontaneous crying: 2.

So there ya have it, basketball is not fun. But Cynthia, if you're ever looking for a real good time you should come over and change James's diaper--I promise you, it's fun!


yorksinmaine said...

Hey Amy. I recently found out that like all my friends have blogs and I'm apparently way out of the cyber loop. Soo, I looked up yours and I have to crack me up...all the time! You're frickin' hilarious. Keep on bloggin'!

Amy said...

Sarah!!! Glad you found me here. As a stay-at-home-mom, I'm pretty hip on all of the internet trends...fills up the old day!