I’m old but I can still play Dodge Ball like a mf’r

Of course, that was Sunday, at my nephew’s 13th birthday party, and I am still recovering. I’m not kidding. I’m limping around like an old man. I have to hold on the railing just to get up and down the stairs. My thigh muscles kill. So does my back.

You  know what this feels like? Like the morning after the first day of football practice when I was in high school. The only difference is back then, when I was — what? sixteen — I got up and went to practice again. Now — shit! I have a hard time getting my socks. This aging shit suck ass!

But you know what? I’d do it all again. Because I fucking love dodge ball! And I am a serious about it too. When I saw that they were play, I swear, the hair stood up on the back of my neck. And I felt thist tingle of delight run all up and down my spine. I jumped right. I wasn’t waiting to be invited. I think it was that first throw that threw my back out. I felt it. But I didn’t even try to take it easy.

See. I was pretty much a skinny little shit in high school. I had to play pretty hard just to be competitive at most sports — football, basketball, etc. But at dodge ball I ecelled. I’m not exactly sure what it was. A combination of things I suppose. I was quick, and had good reflexes. I reacted well. I once dodge four balls all at once, like some kid of rubber guy or whatever. I couldn’t throw the ball very hard — my arms were just too skinny — but I was pretty good at misdirection and I learned to throw the ball low, spin it, make it curve a little. Also, I think I thrived on the relative chaos of Dodge Ball. I feel comfortable in it; I feel like I can see or somehow sense everything that’s going on. And I liked creating chaos in that context too. I don’t know.

I mean. I don’t usually toot my own horn, but I’m a pretty damn good dodge ball player. And I love to play. If there had been an Olympic Team I would have tried out. Seriously.

So why haven’t I played in years, decades even? There are leagues. I don’t know. I really don’t.

Of course, I may have been a bit too serious to be playing with younger kids. My poor niece. She’s only 7. And I almost gave her a concussion when I attempted a cross court throw just over the top of her and it got a way from me, pegging her right upside the head. We’re talking dead on- BAM! (Sorry Kendall) Man, I felt bad. She was okay, though. Whew!


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