I am the most unathletic person. Ever. To this day, I still do not enjoy any kind of sport whatsoever. I mean, I did have a phase of attending personal training sessions at the gym. But even now I think back and wonder why in God’s name did I put my body through all that pain? I sincerely commend my body for not giving up on me. (Except for those two times that I pushed past my limit and threw up. Yeah, embarrassing. But I was told that you know you’ve worked your body hard enough if you’ve thrown up. Who knew?)
I guess I wasn’t always unathletic. When I was younger, I had attempted to channel my inner Serena Williams…somewhat. I participated in gym (or, God forbid, I’d get a low mark on my report card) and joined after-school sports teams (to be with my oh-so-cool friends).
I forgot how important it was back then to fit in. Otherwise, I would have never subjected myself to such humiliation and joined those stupid sports teams. I was never good enough (or cool enough) to be on the starting line-up. I only ever got substituted in when we were definitely winning, and the coaches didn’t want to be bitches and not let the benched girls play. I repeatedly made a fool of myself in front of everyone with my wannabe skills. If I could only go back in time to pat Past Me on the back and congratulate her for stepping out of her comfort zone for the sake of fitting in. Oh, the pains of being 12 years old.
Most of the time, the coaches were very (superficially) supportive and (superficially) encouraged teamwork and fun. I mean, you wouldn’t want to traumatize grade school kids over a stupid game, would you?
Oh, wait. Yeah, you would. At least this dick of a volleyball coach did. And I believe I must credit this dude for being the reason I’ve hated particpating in sports ever since.
Red flag #1: An old man, well in his 50’s, was coaching a bunch of little girls. Not creepy at all.
Red flag #2: He was known for being a huge flirt. Oh, yes. The students loved seeing his wrinkly 50-year-old hands all over the school librarian. *Gag*.
Red flag #3: When we lost a game one time, he bashed the entire team (of innocent little girls) for how shittily we played and how we should be ashamed of ourselves.
Red flag #4: At the next practice, he announced that he was not apologizing for the things he had said and confirmed that we were, indeed, little shits.
Lesson: Do not let old men coach little girls because it is creepy, and they are old, and they are assholes. K thanks.
(P.S. I’m not trying to offend any old men out there. I’m really just talking shit about this one particular old man. If you are an old man, just don’t be an asshole, for the sake of the reputation of all old men.)