50 Days 'Til 50 Day 11--My World Cup Runneth Over

50 Days ‘til 50Day 11My World Cup Runneth OverIt seems almost impossible to turn on the news, get online, and be around almost anyone lately when the conversation doesn’t shift to the world cup. Of course as the teams get eliminated the conversations are less and less but its still going. Fascinated by the extreme interest and obsession with this it got me thinking of my own sports experiences throughout my years.I was probably exposed to sports pretty young although I don’t have many fond memories of it. In gym class we were collectively forced to play whatever the sport was of the season whether we liked it or had any interest or talent for them. I suppose its difficult for teachers and coaches to zero in on each students likes and dislikes when it comes to sports let alone guide them in the right direction. Especially when you’re dealing with a large bunch of screaming third graders. I seemed to almost immediately shy away from the group sports. Softball, football, even red rover gave me anxiety. My one and only memory of playing softball was being put in left field knowing that nothing much would probably happen out there. I was probably daydreaming or counting the minutes until the class ended when I heard the pop off the bat at home plate and what seemed like only seconds that damn ball zoomed at me like a drone and whacked me right in the nose. A bloody nose and bruised ego later I never played it again nor did my schoolmates ever want me to play again. Four square seemed to be about the only thing I felt comfortable and competent to do and to this day I don’t think this qualifies as a professional sport.My mom and dad were great. As busy as they both were they made sure that my sister and I got out there and tried all different things. From piano lessons, gymnastics, dancing, skiing we were lucky to have the chance to experience all these after school activities. I remember walking up this long dark icy driveway in the dead of winter to my piano teachers house. It was a dark and cold place and she wore tight black lace dresses, black tights, and granny glasses looking like a character out of Downton Abbey. My first public recital had me playing along with the school chorus at a local school concert. Half way through my solo I completely went blank and had to sit there and suffer through the silence and what seemed like an hour later got my fingers moving again across the keys. That was the end of my illustrious piano career.I started noticing something however. I noticed I actually liked and even excelled at the sports that relied only on one person to perform. Me. I remember my first tennis racquet. It was wooden with a screw on wooden frame. I think it weighed almost as much as I did and I was a complete buffoon when I started. I liked it though, even loved it. Halleluiah. Everyone had finally found something that I could do that was sporty and that I enjoyed. The trend would continue. Our family also lived down the street from a small ski area. I mean so close we could walk there. It had a rope tow and two lifts to take you to the top. Again, after the usual lessons, I realized I had a liking and quite a skill to this kind of sport. It was just me bombing down the hill with no poles, just me and the mountain. I was given the lead torch to carry in an annual nighttime skiing event the town would hold where we came down the hill in formation carrying torches to the ooh’s and ahhh’s of all the people at the bottom. No fumble here.Summertime had me on one of the local lakes water-skiing and in school during the warmer months I somehow got into running. We didn’t use the metric system back then so my event was the 50-yard dash. A sprint. Free like the wind I was fast. I was a small kid and had no meat on me but my legs would and did go fast, very fast. I even entered the states junior Olympics competition. Don’t remember a gold medal, but think I did surprisingly well.Most of these fell by the wayside into my adulthood. I didn’t become the next Usain Bolt, or the next Roger Federer, or the next Bode Miller. My love of all non contact sports continue today and if lived closer to a ski area would ski as often as I could. I still love tennis and even though I don’t play as much as I would like I could watch the Tennis Channel until 4 in the morning and even longer during the Grand Slam tournaments. There’s something about the sort of personal integrity and fortitude it takes to do these kinds of sports. Of course you need the ability and the skill but at the end of the day it’s the savage fight between you and yourself that intrigues me the most. The intense will it takes to move yourself through all the highs and lows in these sports. When you’re on the tennis court getting your ass whipped, there is no one there to help you. You just have to dig deep and find a way. When you’re skiing down a super G slope at 75 mph, its what’s going on between your ears that is a huge component to getting to the finish line. Victory always seems to me to be so much sweeter when you can pull out that win.Not to knock team sports in any way, it just wasn’t my path. I love the energy that is produced around this World Cup. I love the unity that the Olympics produce around this entire world. It seems that just for those two weeks we come together. The world is somehow hushed, more quiet, more united, and more at peace.   Whether it’s the runners running themselves to the bone or the large soccer teams whose players rely on each other to get the victory there is a place for all of us to excel, to have fun, and to fit in.jf