Dodgeball: a lesson in humility

Last night was the first time in a long time that I have felt humiliation. It felt like a flashback to elementary school, getting picked on in gym class. And what do I have to thank for the honour of such nostalgia? None other than Dodgeball. (Surprise!)

Okay, it’s a goofball sport, not to be taken seriously (though many people still do, it seems). With a gang of friends, we had previously played 2 seasons with a local recreational organization. It’s a new “sport” in this city, so it didn’t get much attention other than a dozen fun-loving teams coming out to have a good time, some laughs and get a little exercise. We finally got to play that game which, in elementary school, the bullies dominated and made unfun. Hell, our team was actually good, and we went nearly undefeated both seasons.

When this third season came around, we thought nothing was changing. Little did we know that with the passing of summer, the organizers recruited new teams from their baseball league. So all season we were up against a bunch of steroid-infused apes that made me wish I was merely playing against those primary-school bullies. And as fate had it, we were pitted against the league champions for our last game. Needless to say we got creamed. It didn’t help that I was already tired and wanting to go to bed before we started, but we didn’t win a single match and I managed to get hit ‘accidentally’ in the balls, once, and THREE times in the face (including once in my eye at point-blank by my own team-mate. Don’t ask.) so I left a not-so-happy camper, and feeling quite humble.

I guess we were just getting a taste of our own medicine for what we had enjoyed the past two seasons, so I should stop whining. But I needed to vent, so thanks for reading through this ...