Just goin’ through a stage

I was listening to the news this morning in the car (I listen to JACK…send me my thousand bucks) and the DJ’s banter led into this issue:

Schools ban tag, soccer, touch football, DODGE BALL

I guess this is rather old news, since a Google search led me to articles from as far back as 2002. This one is from June of this year. So after my typical *eyeroll* “they ban everything these days” *eyeroll* “stupid PC crowd/include everybody/no child left behind/no child should kick a ball” *eyeroll*…after all that I got to thinking about…


(and also 100 more exclamation points for emphasis)

I hated that stupid, ridiculous game with the heat of a thousand suns. With the taste of a million brussel sprouts. With the sound of a billion scraping nails on a blackboard. Hated. Dodge. Ball.

I would always try to get out of a game any way possible. If I couldn’t feign illness or injury, I would literally jump in front of the first person I saw weilding the ball willing them to throw it at my body (please God not the head…please let them throw it below the waist! Why! Oh why? Why the head?) Sometimes, if my taunting and ridiculing and standing right in their immediate air space didn’t work and they threw it at someone else instead, I would fall to the floor anyways. “Oh! You got me! I! Am! Hit! Good one Giant Bobby! You are the King of Dodge Ball! Thee King!” And if I was really lucky I could fake a Dodge Ball injury sometime during the first game and not have to play anymore.

“Oh my eye! Lord have mercy, my good eye! Now I only have one left! What will my Mother say when she sees this? Surely my parents will sue! I am going to go and sit on the stage and rest my injury. Maybe I will be able to see straight by the time gym is over, then we can avoid all legal action.”

(Remember the stages they had in the school gyms? They were usually closed in by some type of sliding doors, but there was still that shelf sticking out into the gym that you could hoist yourself up on? Yeah, that was MY spot. My resting spot. Also, if your gym had a dividing curtain that came out of the wall, you could hide in the space behind the curtain. Dodge Ball avoidance was my specialty.)

If we’re being entirely truthful here though, I hated all things gym. Running, jumping, sit ups, gymnastics, running, volleyball, baseball, anything-ball, climbing, tag, running, square dancing, listening to the teacher, hanging from a rope, running…HATED.

If anyone had the most excuses for getting out of gym it was me. I don’t feel good, I have Malaria, my dog died and I’m sad, my leg hurts, I have a hangnail, my butt is stuck to this here stage, I love the stage, doctors have done studies and discovered that sitting on the stage is the best form of exercise and also MY EYE!

Then of course, by the time I got to Junior High School I discovered the words that could get me out of any-gym-class-at-any-time-no-matter-what-amen…


Worked like a charm every single time. And if it was a male gym teacher all you had to do was breathe the thought of woman troubles their way and they practically clamped their hands over their ears and shouted, “LA, LA, LA, LA, LA I can’t hear you! You’re excused from gym for the next 10 years…

…go over there and sit on the stage!”


4 responses to this post.

  1. I totally remember those stages!! I hated RED ROVER…..like simply hated it…I always got clothes burn on my arms and would let go on purpose…..ugh and I wasn’t much of an athlete either…….cept for floor hockey! loved that……hated all other sweating involved sports!

    apparently pulling the “period” card works in getting out of speeding tickets too!!!


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