The Square Life

Sports. Oh the anxiety, the terror, the disappointment. I realize that many people’s childhood memories are stuffed full of winning catches, homeruns, goals, and touchdowns. And I’m happy for them, I really am. I’m glad they could all build their self-esteem and confidence, and have positive life experiences. I’m glad they made their freshman swim team and that their mother didn’t have to go to the coach and say, “Even if my daughter can’t compete with the team, can she at least practice with them?” And I’m glad that those coaches, who would have been put in a horribly awkward position, didn’t have to look at that crazed mother and say, “No.”

I’m thrilled that they weren’t picked last for every kickball team, and then only picked at all because they happened to be kind of funny and friends with the popular girls whose boyfriends were always the team captains. Always.

Just because my childhood is overflowing with memories of having Sarah Ziering and her sprained ankle chosen instead of me to be the final member of the 5th grade relay team, getting hit in the head with a weird prickly ball at softball tryouts, and never, ever, making the varsity tennis team even after years of private lessons, it doesn’t mean I hate people who are naturally good at sports—or didn’t have their moms crying to coaches. Because I feel, and I quote, “That if you can’t be an athlete, you can be an athletic supporter.”

Why? Because sports are—once you take out the hand-eye coordination, agility, and balls—merely yet another way for people to connect and rally together, to find acceptance, find worth, and find love. And who can be opposed to that?

I’ve come to see, after finally getting over a traumatic childhood full of painful America’s Funniest Home Videos moments, that sports are a great unifier. Last summer, while traveling in China with a group of friends, I was shocked at how dropping the state name “Utah,” caused a frenzy of Chinese youth to start spouting out, “Jazz! Carlos Boozer! Deron Williams!” And we instantly had a connection. Even though we couldn’t say much to one another we could smile and nod, “Yes! Utah Jazz!”

Once out of high school, and at a safe distance from team sports, I started running quite a bit. And then I ran a bit more. I just kept on running. And even though I wasn’t picked for the relay team way back when, I have since managed to run three marathons and a few half marathons. I’ve made numerous friends on the road, on a trail, and at the start line of a race. And again, I finally see the value in athletic goals and dreams. I bawled through every medal ceremony during the Olympics, “They’ve accomplished their dreams!’

And so, whether you’re an athlete, a mathlete, or really really good at World of Warcraft, it’s nice to know that there’s still only one thing that makes the world go ‘round. Love. So remember, when the little blonde you’re pitching to seems to be having an anxiety attack about holding a bat after 10 years of avoiding it, go easy on her, and she won’t emasculate you in her column.

With love, Alison

Alison Faulkner loves you, loves to write, and loves when you read her blog: sheblogssheblogs.blogspot.