So this Saturday is the Disc Golf tournament in the annual Gulf Coast Sports Challenge, and once again I’m on a team with two awesome guys (Jamey and Isaac) who can throw a frisbee (sorry–it’s called a “disc,” not a frisbee) in a perfectly straight line, coming within feet of the basket while I fling the thing blindly in that general direction, aiming in the right direction about 30 percent of the time. For the third year in a row, I find myself outside in the muggy Houston heat, landing hundreds of yards short of the basket and freely throwing the damn disc in whatever direction the wind takes it. We’ve practiced once this week, and we’ll practice again tomorrow, and I can’t help feeling bad–not because I suck at disc golf, but because I truly, to the depth of my soul, don’t give a crap that I suck, despite my teammates’ enthusiasm for the sport and their sincere desire to win the tournament.
I’ve never been what you’d call athletic, at least not in the team sports sense of the word. I was good at gymnastics when I was younger, and I’m a decent swimmer and a good skier. I’m also a pretty good dancer–despite my clumsiness I ended up with a good sense of balance and rhythm. But I run into trouble when you throw a ball or a bat or a disc into the mix and expect me to somehow make it hit a target or land in a net or a hole or (heaven forbid) someone else’s hands. In the sixth grade I hit a baseball backwards when I clearly had no business attempting to hit anything with a bat. I sprained a finger playing volleyball in the seventh grade. I was always the last one picked for any team sport, not because I wasn’t popular but because I was so, so bad at every sport I tried. In high school I took PE in summer school and stuck with simple things–like AP Calculus–during the school year.
So why, pray tell, am I on the City of La Porte Fightin’ Seagulls Disc Golf Team? Because some twisted judge of municipal team sports decided that there has to be at least one female on every team–I guess because otherwise someone might complain about inequality–and I’m evidently the only girl at City Hall who will even entertain the idea of throwing a small disc at a small target far far away in the hopes that it will by some miracle of God make it into the basket. And our team Captain, Isaac, is superstitious, and he seems to think that because we came in second the first and second years that we can’t change ANYTHING in the subsequent years because it will break the streak. So despite my obvious inability to play, my total lack of desire to play well, and the dearth of competitive blood in my veins, I’m on the team. Luckily, I only have to drive every third hole.
So if you’re looking for me this Saturday you’ll find me at Burke Crenshaw Park in Pasadena, disappointing my team mates and probably breaking a nail. And I’m sure we’ll come in second. I’ll fill you in next week, but in the meantime enjoy the lists and have a great rest of the week!
top 20
-
making plans for (another) cruise to the Bahamas
- Castle on CBS
- skunk/possum face offs in the backyard
- the organizers of this past weekend’s La Porte Airplane and Auto Show
- candlelight dinners
- gold rush sundaes
- the promise of a cold front
- paying down credit cards
- Michael Buble
- Talk of the Nation on NPR
- sympathetic ears
- dress shopping for galas and holiday parties
- giving the benefit of the doubt
- wireless printers
- Jamey knowing how to configure the wireless printer
- the McSweeneys app on the iPhone/iPad
- The iPad game Enigmo. Keeps me busy through many a Council meeting.
- Jamey’s impression of Andy Rooney
- teachers
- my bed
bottom 10
-
taking Furbie (or any cat) to the vet
- starting the week with a four-hour Council meeting
- exhaustion
- feeling in limbo
- all of the water evaporating from the lake at Burke-Crenshaw Park
- living with lousy career choices
- unsuccessful Priceline bids
- dropping the ball
- a wounded ego
- my favorite coffee mug, broken
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