Another Contemplation of Whether Lainie Is a Klutz

I promised (or threatened) to write a blog entry about my athletic prowess...or lack thereof...in my continuing examination of whether I am a klutz. I’m pretty sure I’ve already shown that I am definitely a klutz, but I will write this one anyway, because I do have an amusing history as an unaccomplished athlete.

I should start by saying I am the youngest child in a large blended family. I am the 10th if you count the whole group altogether, but at most only 8 of us lived together (my stepfather’s 4 children and my mother’s 4). I am 7 years younger than the nearest in age, so I am most definitely the baby of the family. I mention this because it relates to my early experiences with sports and the like. My brothers and stepbrothers were all somewhat athletic. We lived in a small town so there was plenty of opportunity to join the high school athletic teams. One brother in particular played in several sports--basketball, football, track, perhaps more. This brother, Tommy, also tried his darndest to interest me in sports as well. At first it was just teaching me to wrestle. I mainly used those skills in fights with my sister Kendra, the only sibling in which I had physical battles. I also had some prowess in defending myself on the school playground, but had little call to use it since everyone knew I had the 4 older (and some of them very large) brothers. Tommy also taught me some football at a young age which I attempted during recess with the boys. I think I held my own, but the boys didn’t always let me play since the teacher wouldn’t allow tackling if girls were playing (sexist).

As I got a little older, Tommy focused on teaching me basketball. The poor guy did everything he could to show me the right moves. I got to where I could do a decent bank shot and make a few free throws, even occasionally some nice easy layups. But when it came down to it, I was 1) short, 2) clumsy, and 3) horribly freaked out under pressure. I played in both 5th grade and 8th grade. I don’t even remember much about 5th grade except being on a team. In 8th grade we only won one game. With a score of 9-0. Tommy pointed out that it was more like a football score than a basketball score with those low numbers. In our defense, we were one of the smallest teams in the league--we only had 7 players on the whole team so we didn’t get much rest during a game. I was one of the starters (not very impressive now that you already know it was only 7 people) and I was clueless half the time even about the rules of the game (in spite of Tommy’s tutelage). I don’t know if I ever scored in a game--maybe once. So my basketball career was a bit sad and ignominious. I should also mention that at this time I was also the junior high school’s mascot. Yep. I had intended to try out for the cheerleading squad (and probably would have actually made it because our school was so dang small) but I was sick with the flu during tryouts. Instead I made it to mascot tryouts a week later. Only two of us tried out and they actually made us both mascots so we could take turns. However, the other girl was always flunking and therefore disqualified from extracurricular activities, so I became the sole mascot. I wore a longhorn cow suit. Oh the shame. So I would play a game of basketball and then have to put my sweaty self into a boiling hot longhorn suit to go cheer on the boys’ game. At least they won a little more often than the girls’ team. So this story does nothing to improve my history of clumsiness, but it does show how dedicated I was.

Here’s my 8th grade basketball photo:



I’m sorry to say I don’t have a picture of myself in the longhorn getup.



The photo above was taken at my church youth group in high school. Hey, I sewed that shirt in a crafty phase! Anyway, I used to have some skill with hula hoops. I think in the picture above I was doing it for some sort of competition, but I also learned a little trick in college. I would twirl two hula hoops around my waist, and at the same time I would get two yo-yos going and then I’d eat a cookie. It’s a great way to work the calories off while consuming the cookie, I suppose. I’m not saying I didn’t have the odd accident with this trick, but I could usually pull it off. See, not always the klutz!?

My senior year of high school I had a swimming class and I turned out to be pretty decent at that. I find it much easier to be graceful in the water than on land (like a big ol’ manatee or something). I did particularly well when we used kickboards and propelled ourselves across the pool using leg strength along. Once we used arms the boys were faster (which is a bit sad because they were mostly freshmen). I did not join the swim team, just took the class for a P.E. credit, but the coach told me that if I’d come along as a freshman, I would have been a great backstroke swimmer for the team. I treasured that thought since I have so seldom had a compliment on my athleticism, even such a small one as that. This reminds me that I really need to join the local Y soon so I can swim there.

In college my main attempt at sports was one semester playing intramural water polo. In case you don’t know the term, intramural means we played other teams within the university, so it wasn’t a super-tough competition between schools. My team won the intramural championship that year, though I don’t know how much I affected that. At least I didn’t cause us to lose; I know that much. I still like to wear our Intramural Championship T-shirt when I want to pretend I’m athletic. I should probably admit that the whole intramural league used inner tubes to float in to play water polo, though I remember being surprised when I realized that--I was all for playing without them.

Finally, I should mention the picture at the top of this blog entry. I have only been skiing one time (when I went with a few college buddies to visit our friend Brian in Colorado--not the same Brian who’s now my husband). Brian gave me some pointers on how to ski and I took off and quite enjoyed it. I don’t think I did too badly my first day--except for the stopping. I mainly stopped by falling down. I usually fell down on purpose to stop, but still--not graceful in the least. I felt great until the next day when I was incredibly sore. If I get to go skiing again (probably when the kids are older) I hope all my workouts help me to ski a little better. Work those legs!

In conclusion, I have made several sad attempts to be athletic, but the only thing I came close to decent at was swimming. Considering my recent pivot repeater injury, I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have stuck with swimming. I am a klutz extraordinaire.