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Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Pinky knows it's not in the genes.

It’s a surreal feeling when all four of the boys are home together, standing around me in the kitchen and I think back to when they were babies. 
They all stand over six feet tall and are fairly athletic having always played a lot of sport. Even Lulu is taller than me and is an accomplished basketball and netball player. 

I’m genuinely bewildered as to where they get their sporting talent from. 

Not me that’s for sure.
I have to confess that at school I was absolutely shite at sport. I was scared of the ball, couldn’t throw or run fast and had zilch coordination. 
This was a disappointing attribute and one I desperately wanted to resolve. 

Firstly, all the cool kids were good at sport, secondly, all the spunky boys (back in the seventies ‘spunky’ meant ‘hot’) played sport, and thirdly… well, they were the most important reasons to me anyway. 

To say that the PE teacher at my school disliked me would be an understatement. This wasn’t because I was one of those lazy kids who always tried to get out of sport by bringing out sick notes from their mother every Friday. 

Oh no, the vindictive b#%*h detested me because I was the exact opposite of that. I signed up for every team possible, dreaming that one day I would discover my hidden talent. 

After playing an entire season of inter-school netball I realized that the PE teacher hadn’t put me on the court even once in any of the games, AND I was the only reserve on the team. I was a bit put out but it was okay because I got to hang out with all the popular girls. 

My mother, however, wasn’t very impressed as she’d forked out a notable sum of money for the spiffy uniform and Dunlop volleys (green and white).

It was clearly time to switch sports and what could be better than the mixed softball team. 
A fifteen year old, blonde-haired spunk named Geoffrey Powers, was the softball captain of my house team. I was fairly invisible to the boys as I had skinny legs, no boobies and was outrageously shy. 

Every time Geoffrey walked past me I would nervously begin examining the ground with a penetrating intensity, terrified he might actually speak to me. Nevertheless I thought there was a chance something might happen if I was on his team.

It was the beginning of the game and the skeptical PE teacher sent me out to field in the paddock. Getting a bit bored standing in the sun with no ball action coming my way; I drifted off into a careless daydream. 

In my mind’s eye I could see the opposing team getting ready to bat. After a mighty swing the ball was propelled from the tip of the bat and sailed impressively high in the air. 

I darted forward and against all odds caught the ball before it hit the ground. 

Batter out! People were screaming and cheering! 

Geoffrey was smiling coyly at me and other kids were running towards me and slapping me on the back. 

In my peripheral vision a dark shadow passed over me in the sky above interrupting my fantasy… must be a bird, I thought.

I suddenly snapped back to reality.

No, it wasn’t a f#$%king bird, it was a ball, an easy catch that had been heading directly towards me. My team on the field had been yelling for my attention to catch the bloody thing. 

Loser, Pinky!

There was a lot disappointed muttering from my team mates but nothing too abusive. I think they were humouring my sporting efforts. 
But frankly, the look on the PE teacher’s face could have curdled a bowl of fresh whipped cream.