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Basketball Diaries
Dec. 17th, 2005 09:29 amI've had a crick in my neck since Wednesday. I know when it started - I was putting my hair up, and all of a sudden, a pain shot through the right side of my neck, I'll assume from the way I was holding my arms and head. It's only painful if I turn my head certain ways, but it's hard not to, and I feel like this has gone on long enough. The pain is no less three days later. Frustration.
This happened once before. In eighth grade, on the morning of 8th grade basketball tryouts, I woke up with a very similar pain. It didn't go away all day, and I was forced to sit out the firt day of tryouts. It was still bad the second day, but I was desperate to make the team, so I suited up anyway. While scrimmaging, I took a really hard hit from Chessie Soccoli - we never liked each other, and I'm sure she did it on purpose - but anyway it snapped my neck back and it stopped hurting. Dare I try that again? No. With no important athletic requirements in my immediate future, I'm going to try the sissy way - waiting it out. But if anyone has any other suggestions, I'm open. Maybe I should see a doctor, since I do have insurance now. Hrm. Will consider that. Oh, I made the 8th grade basketball team, in case you were wondering. The other two girls from my YMCA team that tried out did not make the team, which made the rest of Y season very awkward. These two girls would literally burst into tears when they saw me. I was glad I made the team, but I can honestly say I was never happy. Pretty much every other girl on the team was my worst enemy, with the exception of the handful of girls from my elementary school that I'd been friends with back in the day.
Validation came in ninth grade, though. The bitchy girls from 8th grade were all from another part of the county and ended up at a different high school. The strides I'd made in basketball skizills from 8th grade to 9th grade were tremendous. I had gone to two basketball camps at Virginia Tech that summer and received some excellent instruction. Compared to the other girls at camp, I was average, but when I got to my high school, the prissy girls of Albemarle County couldn't hold a candle to my ambidextrous layups and free throw accuracy. Except for Kathleen. Kathleen's the reason I played basketball in the first place, and she was definitely better than I was, but she was a guard and I was a forward, so I didn't have to compare myself to her. Thankfully. I had a great season in 9th grade. Kathleen was the star of the team, but we were both coach's favorites, and I started every game. We were the go-to girls for demonstrating new skills and plays. Man, that was a great year. The one thing that sucked, though, was that my boyfriend, Rafal, never came to a single one of my games. He said it was because he was afraid to see me get hurt. I don't know what the real reason is, but I've never forgiven him for that. I'm not over it, either. I made my peace with Rafal a while ago, but I'm going to die wishing he'd seen me play ball. It really is all about the little things. (I know you're thinking of a penis joke, Ben.)
I've been reflecting a lot lately on my days as a baller. It was a great time for me. Unfortunately, after breaking my foot, you couldn't pay me money to set foot on the basketball court at LeClub. That's where I did it. Maybe if they resurface the gym. But I should get back to coaching. I really enjoyed that. We'll see:)
Peace.
This happened once before. In eighth grade, on the morning of 8th grade basketball tryouts, I woke up with a very similar pain. It didn't go away all day, and I was forced to sit out the firt day of tryouts. It was still bad the second day, but I was desperate to make the team, so I suited up anyway. While scrimmaging, I took a really hard hit from Chessie Soccoli - we never liked each other, and I'm sure she did it on purpose - but anyway it snapped my neck back and it stopped hurting. Dare I try that again? No. With no important athletic requirements in my immediate future, I'm going to try the sissy way - waiting it out. But if anyone has any other suggestions, I'm open. Maybe I should see a doctor, since I do have insurance now. Hrm. Will consider that. Oh, I made the 8th grade basketball team, in case you were wondering. The other two girls from my YMCA team that tried out did not make the team, which made the rest of Y season very awkward. These two girls would literally burst into tears when they saw me. I was glad I made the team, but I can honestly say I was never happy. Pretty much every other girl on the team was my worst enemy, with the exception of the handful of girls from my elementary school that I'd been friends with back in the day.
Validation came in ninth grade, though. The bitchy girls from 8th grade were all from another part of the county and ended up at a different high school. The strides I'd made in basketball skizills from 8th grade to 9th grade were tremendous. I had gone to two basketball camps at Virginia Tech that summer and received some excellent instruction. Compared to the other girls at camp, I was average, but when I got to my high school, the prissy girls of Albemarle County couldn't hold a candle to my ambidextrous layups and free throw accuracy. Except for Kathleen. Kathleen's the reason I played basketball in the first place, and she was definitely better than I was, but she was a guard and I was a forward, so I didn't have to compare myself to her. Thankfully. I had a great season in 9th grade. Kathleen was the star of the team, but we were both coach's favorites, and I started every game. We were the go-to girls for demonstrating new skills and plays. Man, that was a great year. The one thing that sucked, though, was that my boyfriend, Rafal, never came to a single one of my games. He said it was because he was afraid to see me get hurt. I don't know what the real reason is, but I've never forgiven him for that. I'm not over it, either. I made my peace with Rafal a while ago, but I'm going to die wishing he'd seen me play ball. It really is all about the little things. (I know you're thinking of a penis joke, Ben.)
I've been reflecting a lot lately on my days as a baller. It was a great time for me. Unfortunately, after breaking my foot, you couldn't pay me money to set foot on the basketball court at LeClub. That's where I did it. Maybe if they resurface the gym. But I should get back to coaching. I really enjoyed that. We'll see:)
Peace.
