Anyway, I haven't played competitive anything in more than two years...actually, more like three. After 16 years of softball, my competitive energy had gravitated so southward, I'm pretty sure it's frozen in an Antartic ice cap. Perhaps some penguins are playing soccer with it.
I don't get competitive with card games, board games, video games (which I don't play) because my adult-onset ADD kicks in and I can't focus--NOR do I care--enough to try to win. (People LOVE playing Monopoly against me..."Sure, you want this whole strip of things? I'll sell it to you. But can you keep the money? I'm bored.")
But sports. Ohhh, sports. I come from a family of sport-heads. They grind up the bones of athletics and snort them with adrenaline injections. They cheer and yell at the TV--at athletes who are YOUNGER than me! They play fantasy football (this including my sister, who I'm pretty sure is more hopped up on FF fever than anyone,) and of course, we've all played sports. Except for my mom, who can do a mean cartwheel.
So as for my sports career, I was definitely born in the right family. I was a pitcher who, thank God, did not have a crazy dad who made me pitch in my sleep or do push-ups in geometry. I came from a family of supporters and athletes, so competition, motivation...all in the family. I recall my sister deliberately pissing me off before a game just so I'd throw harder. Hmm.
Anyway, since my career ended, I've loved being the bookish type. No competition, no adrenaline rushes to worry about. I always felt kind of double-sided with competition, thus my reference in the first paragraph. I always wanted to do well, I never let a batter crowd the plate without belting one at her kneecaps, I always tried to go in with strategy. But as for the I-win-therefore-you-lose mentality, it's not particiularly my thing. Mostly.
So I'm a bit like Rogue from X-Men. I have these competitive genes in my very microfibers, but I'd rather not have them. They don't motivate me so much and when I let them take over, I don't feel like myself. I feel like I'm equipped with enough ability to be competitive and successful, but the whole personal interest wavers a bit.
But I forgot what it was like. To be moving with one unit AGAINST another. When I'm learning a new sport--IF I choose to go against my grain and try something new in athletics (because I hate being bad at something athletic, like swimming, which i don't do)--I'm a bit reeled-in. I like to observe, figure out how to play, try to mentally process rules, etc. I definitely don't play balls-to-the-walls...especially in tennis shoes while playing on grass. (I nearly busted my arse 3 times yesterday because my tennis shoes SUCK!)
Before the scrimmage, I stretched a bit, tossed around the ball (which I'm totally good at!...if I pass to the left.) Then we started and I immediately set my butt-muscle on fire. I definitely should have jogged first to loosen up everything. But MAN. Right off the bat and still the rest of the scrimmage to play! I let someone switch me out once so I could stretch, which didn't particularly help, but I was so sad that I wouldn't be able to get in a good run, show them I could do it. There were very large guys out there--ones that could pivot and drive with the speed of Zeus' lightning bolts heading right toward me. (In that case, I side touch. Or well, I attempt to touch from the side but they move to fast and nearly plow me over, but it's okay.)
The last half of scrimmage, my defense went to poo-nanny. I got lazy and tired and was galloping like an old mule. I was on the wing and kept getting burned by Legs, who can run for days...quite quickly.
So with the last ounce of energy I could muster, I put aside my ADD and mental/physical tiredness, I made my hamstring work again, and I anticipated the pass to Legs and...
I ran with all the speed I had, forcing my legs to reach out, reach out...shoot, is someone chasing me? I hear noises! Oh wait, they're clapping! I did it! I scored a try!
I put the ball on the ground in the endzone-thing (you have to do that,) then jogged back to try to pretend like I wasn't gonna pass out. The guy I picked gave me a big smile and a high-five, which was fun.
I felt all Wolverine on those turds! I was all into it and intense and I got the interception and ran like I do when the dogs down my road chase me. Competition tasted deLICIOUS.
Only next time, I'm bringing out the CLAWS.
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