FRIDAY STORY TIME!
*pause for clapping to end*
You may be thinking to yourself, "Why Friday? What's so special or story-y about Friday?"
Well..nothing in particular really. Friday is just the day I chose. And this is my blog. So there.
This week's story stems from the fact that I have always been competitive. Absurdly so, in some cases.
*That's me on the left. I didn't always have short hair.*
When I was in first grade, I was on a little kids basketball team. We met once a week in my school's gymnasium where we practiced important skills like dribbling.
One practice, coach lined us all up against the wall along one side of the gym and told us we were going to practice the advanced skill of dribbling WHILE running across the gym.
Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, my competitive side showed up with a vengeance.
Coach's whistle shrieked, signifying the race was on and I kicked off and burned rubber, sprinting as fast as my shrimpy legs would take me.
I was doing it!! I was doing it!! I was in first place!!
Not that I was surprised by that or anything. I obviously was the fastest on the team.
How they could ever think to win a game without me was hard to believe.
I mean really, I was pretty much carrying this team along all by myself.
I'll bet coach goes home and tells his wife how awesome a basketball player I am.
I'll bet she wants to meet me.
I'll bet she wishes she had kids that were half as good at basketball as me..
I began to wonder how far behind the other kids were from me.
It probably would be hard to make them out, since they had to be so so far back, but I decided to check anyways.
And then I ran out of gym.
I got to sit the rest of practice on the sidelines, watching the other kids do drills waaaay slower than I would have done them while cradling my arm and trying not to cry.
Professional basketball players who are bffs with the coach's wife don't cry.
After a couple days of me complaining about my arm still hurting, my mom took me to get some X-rays done, and low and behold, I had broken my arm. My right arm just above the wrist. By running into a wall.
I didn't let it get me down though. I got a pretty, new, attention grabbing, bright pink accessory out of the deal and a big swiss cheese looking foam pillow to rest my arm on while watching tv. I was living the life.
On a side note, the only person I allowed to sign my cast was my piano teacher. Why I was still meeting with my piano teacher when one of my hands was not working, I do not know. I do know that I felt it was too rude to refuse a grownup asking to sign my cast though, so I let her.
I then pouted for the rest of the day.
and then walked around for the duration of my cast time looking like the only friend I had was my piano teacher.
Moral of the story: Only play basketball outdoors.
Love you all!
Check back soon for a new post!