Were you ever the last kid picked for kickball? Do they even still do that in schools? If they don’t, then maybe I’m homeschooling my kids for no good reason. Oh, yeah. I do have a few other reasons but kickball is pretty high on the list.
A post I made earlier today got me to reminiscing about always being the last kid picked for kickball. I do not look back on this time of my life with angst.
No, I remember the pathetic child that was me, always chosen last for kickball, and I have to laugh. The kid that was me was a “looser” with a capital L. It was not yet fashionable to protect a child’s self-esteem at any cost so no one tried to convince me that being a klutz was a gift. Kids weren’t raised to be praise junkies like they are today in this age of self-esteem run amok so I learned to see myself the way I really was and it wasn’t always a pretty sight.
I sucked at kickball, so of course no one wanted me on their team. At the time that seemed important. There I stood with the dregs of my class waiting to be picked. I stood with the dirty, smelly boy that no one would sit next to at lunch and the fat girl that we all threw rocks at and called names on the playground. I usually at least got picked before they did.
I always missed the ball completely when I went running up to kick it. Think of Charlie Brown, Lucy, and that football. Except no one was making me miss. I was just that clumsy.
One day I ran up and kicked and my foot actually made contact with the ball. I couldn’t believe it. Neither could anyone else. My humiliation was not ended for good like I thought for a nanosecond that it might be.
I ran the wrong way. I took off for third base instead of first. After that I was always picked dead last, not even beating out the smelly boy or the fat girl.
They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’d like to amend that to whatever doesn’t drive you to suicide makes you funnier.
I now look at most anything that I screw up as a source of amusement and something to write about. I wonder if I would still be able to do that if some nice adult had rescued me from ridicule back then.
The Anti-Mother 
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January 7, 2008 at 8:27 am
Vicky In The Middle
My childhood wasn’t the greatest either. I was the fat girl getting the rocks thrown at me. I don’t know if it made me funnier, but I became the class smart ass in self defense. I could make everyone laugh and then they liked me more – until it was time to choose baseball teams.
Good piece, Andrea.
January 7, 2008 at 1:46 pm
intermagus
While I regret much of my childhood, my simple pleasure to be gained was that most others were fearful of me, since I was the kid that would have been pegged as a Columbine-shooter-type if such a thing existed during my childhood. As it stood, I was left blessedly alone, for the most part.
January 7, 2008 at 2:55 pm
pandemonic
I sucked at everything athletic. I was the last to be picked for everything, including jacks. When they made us run, I was always last, and felt like I was going to have a heart attack. Nowadays, some schools are very non-competitive. I would have thrived in that kind of atmosphere.
January 7, 2008 at 4:15 pm
Ina
I was also last picked for everything. When we look at how we look back on these experiences from an adult perspective, it really leaves one sickened.
Like Pan said, I too, would have thrived in a non-competitive atmosphere. We’ve scarred a lot of kids by making them join into activities such as these.
I don’t think it’s made me funnier. It took me a long time to get past being an unloved nerd.
January 18, 2008 at 11:05 am
tigereye
My only competitive sport in grade school was spelling. If I could’ve, I would have happily thrown rocks at some of the bad spellers, except I was an undersized kid with Coke-bottle glasses and they could all pound the crap out of me later.
I think this explains a lot about why I’m so hostile from the other end of the internet.