Thank you, Stacy Sumeriski, for taking this o-so attractive picture of me. |
Somehow, I found myself at the front of the line. Mr. King, star athlete and coach, sprinted forward to offer me some encouragement. "Set the table, Mosiman," he said before racing back to take his place in line. I looked after him, confused. "What does that mean?" I shouted. Is that the sports equivalent of "raising the bar"? I practiced dribbled only to be immediately interrupted by another well-meaning coach. "This isn't volleyball," she commented as I used my thumbs and pointer fingers to drum the ball on the floor. I almost told her that I went to States my senior year in volleyball but feel that she would then remind me of my kickball debacle that occurred a few years back.
3....2....1....time to shoot. I hugged the ball and pushed off from my chest. God willed it right through the net. The crowd kind of erupted. Of my four shot opportunities, I miraculously made three. The third occurred just as the clock counted down to its final few seconds. My team would have lifted me up and carried me around for a victory lap but, as I hadn't dropped my winter weight yet, it was postponed.
Now, don't get me wrong. This was very exciting but unfortunately, I may have inadvertently developed an undeserved reputation for being athletic. Let this serve as my testimony that I AM NOT athletic, I do not understand sports lingo, and am easily injured by even the most simplest of tasks. When Amy Mosiman "sets the table," she actually sets the table. And even that she often gets wrong. Where does that fork go again?
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