The klutz and the beautiful

One of my classmates in high school senior year proudly shared to our class that she dreams of being a cager’s wife. I didn’t quite get it at that time but not long after I realized that it is not entirely bad to aspire to become a professional athlete’s wife. Not only will you be assured of budgeting a fat paycheck but you will also be the center of envy among friends because you hooked up with the college jock and in the future a professional athlete and not just some DOM. Rich and muscular..not bad at all.

I grew up not having a favorite sport or any sport for that matter. If jackstone is considered a sport then we’ll have to count that in. In highschool, I would do everything not to play volleyball for P.E. class including volunteering to be umpire (even if I don’t know a thing) during intramurals just so I wouldn’t have to play. Thank God for dance or I wouldn’t have passed P.E. at all. I spent school vacations reading, including the required books for the incoming school year. With my sisters around, I don’t have to go out and play with neighborhood children. I was fat as a kid (until now) and was just not interested in playing it rough and hurting myself. Even in reading the papers, sports is the section that I read the least, except when there’s tennis grand slam.

And so there are times when I see myself surprised at how boys talk about sports the way economists would talk about growth rates and trends in world markets. I have noticed how men can analyze games fit for a position paper. I love watching tennis but I watch it for leisure and most of the time just to see Marat Safin and not to explain why he should just sign up for an endorsement pretty much like compatriot Anna Kournikova and give up tennis altogether, based on his performance the past year. What is even more amusing for me is how any ordinary Joe can talk about sports as extensively and analytically as any sports commentator. Any group of guys that I am with, be it my officemates, friends or cousins talk about NBA, F1, UFC, world cup or what have you in an “expert” kind of way. I am also surprised at how they seem to know all the players by heart. I have come to believe that you can randomly put together a group of men and instantly they can talk animatedly about any kind of sports. Amidst the grief our family was going through when my uncle died last Saturday, my dad even managed to ask my grandpa about the world series. He stayed in the hospital the whole morning and he didn’t get to catch baseball. Honestly, I didn’t know what they were talking about until I saw at CNN that the world series is ongoing.

I was amazed when I learned that Jerv can play volleyball as much as he can play basketball. My male cousins excel in all our outdoor activities from softball to bowling to tumbang preso. When friends notice my legs and arms, they hastily conclude that I didn’t enjoy my childhood because I spent it inside the house. You see, I didn’t learn how to ride a bike nor rollerblade. Jerv said that’s probably why I suck at driving. Sometimes I think my parents had it all wrong when they made us, their children, concentrate in getting excellent grades and graduate with honors instead of enrolling us in a sports camp. Given my discipline and competitive spirit, I’m sure it will be a breeze. Where else will you earn so much and do exactly what you love doing and not consider it work at all. Just imagine how much Martina Hingis was earning when she was 15 and all the places she must have gone to, thanks to professional tennis. Or Manny Pacquiao. Even if I bend my back learning all the development theories, I don’t think I will earn as much as he does nor will I be cheered by Stalone.

Given the above, I plan to exert as much effort in going about my sports enrichment program. This will include going to the gym as much as I can, swimming whenever I can, watching Jerv’s ABL games next year and joining the marathon for the second consecutive year. With Jerv’s enthusiasm for sports, hopefully this new set of resolutions won’t go to waste.