Nothing's changed.
[text conversation]
Me: Where/when u guys ballin today?
Doug: Gordon Park in Lagrange... why whats up
[end transmission]
I've never been pegged as a sports guy. Despite my four years of soccer, two of basketball, one of bowling, and winning the middle-ball semi-finals for our team in 6th grade, no one will ever put me and sports together.
That's why Doug had no clue I was asking to come and play basketball with him and some other guys yesterday. The only relationship most people see between me and sports is observer.
Thinking back, middle school really messed up my self-perception in the sports arena. Even when I tried my P.E. teachers (jerks, all of them) would yell, "Come on, Lugo. You're not even trying!"
But I was trying. I was doing the best I could. I was naturally a slow runner, I couldn't do a single pull-up, and the presidential fitness test was designed to let the president know I was a fitness failure. In fact, I even failed personal fitness my freshman year of high school. It's the only class I've ever failed.
I'd like to say these things don't haunt me, but they do. It's hard to just let it go. I was hesitant to play yesterday, really. If I went, I knew I would wait for messages countering the ones I heard when I was young. I would need some encouragement. I would need assurance that my coaches of years past were wrong; and even if they were right back then, they are wrong today. If I didn't hear anything to the contrary, I don't know when I would've put on my new running shoes again.
Thankfully, the game went well. I brought two 32 oz. Gatorades and a big bottle of water. I was ready. Half-way through game one, I had to sub out. I was too tired. But game two? Played it all. Game three? All the way. And even into the start of game four - two hours of hard ball. I made it through.
I bet everyone has a similar story. Someone said you can't sing, or cook, or read, or make jokes. Someone with a big mouth, little concern and less discernment. Years later, we remember those faces, those words, and we never get over them. We plow through them. It takes a lot of counter-formation to make it.
I don't think I could have made it through yesterday without the encouragement of my teammates. "Good look!" "Way to be big!" "Nice hustle!" "Did you really just call a time-out from the ground? Good work." So, to those guys, thanks.
I know it doesn't make sense how big of a deal that game was, but it was a big deal.
[text conversation]
Me: Where/when u guys ballin today?
Doug: Gordon Park in Lagrange... why whats up
[end transmission]
I've never been pegged as a sports guy. Despite my four years of soccer, two of basketball, one of bowling, and winning the middle-ball semi-finals for our team in 6th grade, no one will ever put me and sports together.
That's why Doug had no clue I was asking to come and play basketball with him and some other guys yesterday. The only relationship most people see between me and sports is observer.
Thinking back, middle school really messed up my self-perception in the sports arena. Even when I tried my P.E. teachers (jerks, all of them) would yell, "Come on, Lugo. You're not even trying!"
But I was trying. I was doing the best I could. I was naturally a slow runner, I couldn't do a single pull-up, and the presidential fitness test was designed to let the president know I was a fitness failure. In fact, I even failed personal fitness my freshman year of high school. It's the only class I've ever failed.
I'd like to say these things don't haunt me, but they do. It's hard to just let it go. I was hesitant to play yesterday, really. If I went, I knew I would wait for messages countering the ones I heard when I was young. I would need some encouragement. I would need assurance that my coaches of years past were wrong; and even if they were right back then, they are wrong today. If I didn't hear anything to the contrary, I don't know when I would've put on my new running shoes again.
Thankfully, the game went well. I brought two 32 oz. Gatorades and a big bottle of water. I was ready. Half-way through game one, I had to sub out. I was too tired. But game two? Played it all. Game three? All the way. And even into the start of game four - two hours of hard ball. I made it through.
I bet everyone has a similar story. Someone said you can't sing, or cook, or read, or make jokes. Someone with a big mouth, little concern and less discernment. Years later, we remember those faces, those words, and we never get over them. We plow through them. It takes a lot of counter-formation to make it.
I don't think I could have made it through yesterday without the encouragement of my teammates. "Good look!" "Way to be big!" "Nice hustle!" "Did you really just call a time-out from the ground? Good work." So, to those guys, thanks.
I know it doesn't make sense how big of a deal that game was, but it was a big deal.
