Today's subject has nothing to do with my obsessive review of my resume, or my summer internship search, or my lingering high school desires to be "a well-rounded applicant." But maybe, just maybe, I sense an absence in my extracurriculars and perceive a gap that certain potential employers might look down upon.
I am athletically challenged.
And it's extremely obvious. To those readers who know me, you might be aware that I am incapable of extracting myself from a desk without incurring a serious funny bone injury.
Or you might have noticed that I cannot enter and exit a coffee shop without A) slipping on the threshold, B) spilling coffee and C) knocking over the basket of Splenda. And that I am the only person in the history of Cousens Gym to have injured myself not on the machines, but in tripping over the coats and bags in the storage area.
It seems I am entirely devoid of coordination. I'm not sure what happened. I was the star hitter on my first grade T-ball team. But as organized sports started becoming more competitive, more intense, I guess I just lost my nerve. And for a while it didn't faze me that I couldn't swing a bat that wasn't plastic, that I couldn't sink a lay-up to save my life.
But nowadays, organized sports frighten me. I don't understand the concept, like calculus or monster truck rallies.
The events themselves as social affairs, those are great; sit me down in a crowd with popcorn and soda and I would happily enjoy a spectator event featuring amateur ice cube tray refilling.
Large foam fingers? The better to pick our large foam noses. The chance to start the wave, making dozens, perhaps hundreds of people stand and sit in rapid succession? Inexplicably satisfying. Face and belly paint? Awesome - when else would you get to do that besides maybe a nudist carnival?
The crowds, the noise, that's all fine to me, but I'm not sure I'll ever understand what's happening on the field/rink/court/mini-mall parking lot.
It's not just that I don't comprehend the rules, although that is a problem. Football? Forget it. I have no idea where they're going with the ball and why the ref is trying so hard to distract the players with those bright little flags. Baseball is OK, but when people start to talk about batting .0100 I think they're talking about military time.
As for hockey, no one has ever successfully been able to explain "off sides" to me. The most I can figure is that it's what the Slovakian hockey players say to their barbers when asked, "How do you want it cut?" And I once watched a game of lacrosse aghast that the players had strapped their protective cups to those sticks and were waving them in the other team members' faces.
And it isn't about the raw, physical talent. I'm sure I could do any of that Tour de France stuff given the proper bike and spandex. But I just don't think I could handle the stress of being a professional athlete.
Your body becomes your livelihood, like in dancing and ankle modeling, so what happens when your knees give out or you decide you want to try an all-Twinkie diet for a while?
Being in the public eye constantly would create unimaginable pressure. I've averted this problem by using a Sears catalogue model for my column photo, but you can't wear a paper bag over your head during televised games. And constant plastic surgery just isn't an option - I heard Mike Tyson tried that and had to get tattoos to cover the scars.
The way I see it, you wouldn't have the freedom to mess up like normal people do. Say a few fans witnessed you stumble while disembarking an MBTA bus.
Then they'd see you in a game on TV and say, "Hey, there's Palkowski - she's all right on the field, but you should see what a klutz she is on public transport."
I guess the toughest thing about sports is the ability to just let myself enjoy the spirit of the game. The whole time I'm thinking, "Doesn't that hurt?" or "Won't he be ashamed he scored against his own team?" or "How will they ever be able to have children?"
I can't let go of the social anxiety and enjoy the simple aspects of the game. And that's why my resume will never indicate to an employer, "Daily columnist and consummate jock."
