OurGirl: A Plucky Response

my friend stew recently posted about growing up and playing by the rules of the game. this is a response post. i don't think i'm getting at what stew is talking about, this is just what i thought about when i read his post.
http://onstewsmind.blogspot.com/

i think my boy1, right now, may be plucky. he's in a football league where he's the youngest, smallest, and the lightest. he thinks all about protecting himself. i think about it all the time as well. use your black belt experience, i advise him. be quick and agile. then i cover my eyes. i also try to learn about the game from him. if there is anything a child—at least my child—diggs is to instruct an adult in something—anything.

growing up, i was in the athletic plucky category. i grew up in an anti-sport household. this proved to be a handicap in gym class. i really thought we were playing a game. but we were not. i approached a sport with a half heart about improving my game skills. i was just enjoying the game. i think i wasn't totally inept, but my lack of coordination and my goofy attitude towards the game kept me in the lower half of the picking order. which didn't bum me out—it was just a game.

then, one day the game changed.

my middle school gym teacher was a wildly popular teacher. she went by a her first name, not the usual ms. whoever, and all the girls were interested in being recognized by her in a familiar, pet-like way. so naturally, just floating along with my peers, i had the half-want of having this recognition, as well. but she had her own impression of me, so mostly i just smiled and tuned her out. i mean, it was gym. not a serious academic grade, so why bother? but as i said, the game changed.

it was time to pick teams for basketball. the gym teacher called out my name and another girl's name for captains for the teams. i grew uneasy. it didnt smell right. my unease was confirmed, because as i stood up, brushed down my gym shorts and stood next to the gym teacher, i heard her say to a pet girl in my class: "this should be good."

the other girl was asked to pick first. she played by the rules and picked the popular girl, who awarded her a smile. inside i was seething. teachers were not supposed to be mean. there was plenty of mean to go around. now she was adding to it.

i opted out.

i chose my best friend as my first pick—she was plucky, too, and i tend to be loyal. the other captain picked the next, popular, capable girl. as she did, the rebellion jelled in my mind: i would pick every girl that was always picked last. two vastly uneven, lopsided teams were being formed: the strong quick and popular girls headed by the most unpopular pick and my team: all of the pluckies of the class, with a dreamer, tuned out, turned-rebellious captain.

i remember standing there, miserable and angry at being used for sport. but the girls that were picked, for once, first—they were excited. they named the team using my last name in the name. why? i grumbled. why bother? i was so angry. my best friend said something about how i was captain and it should be part of the team name. i didn't respond graciously or act graciously. in a john hughes movie, my team—galvanized by being picked first—would rise up and kick the pants of that lousy, popular, capable team. in reality, we were spanked by the capable team. and spanked hard. we played and we played poorly. nothing changed as a result of my rebellion. i don't even know if the teacher had an inkling of my intent.

i know that really soured my perception of sports. later, in college, when i discovered fencing—and that i was somewhat more capable in fencing—i understood more about the importance of sports and the underlying principles and life strategies that the practice teaches you. but then again, it was a sport where you got to poke at people. i understood the value of that particular sport implicitly.