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The Try-Outs

When I was in seventh grade, I decided to try out for the middle school intramural basketball team.  I'm not sure why.  I was well under 5 feet tall at that age.  Had zero athletic ability.  And could not make a basket even if they lowered the hoop down low enough so I could touch it.  But it was supposed to be a non-competitive team and I thought it would be fun since I had friends who played.

I didn't make the team. 

When I was a freshman in high school I decided I was going to be a cheerleader.  I'm not sure why.  The cute skirt?  The sweater with the big letter on the front?  The saddle shoes?  In any event I wanted to be a cheerleader. 

I practiced the cheers and went to all the practices before the official try-out.  I could do the splits and cartwheels and stiff armed clapping, and at a small private school in the mid 80s that really was the extent of the required ability.  Out of the 25 girls that tried out for the squad, 23 made it.  I was not one of those 23.  I was crushed because I knew it had more to do with being popular than it had to do with actual stiff arm clapping ability.

I don't recall ever trying out for anything again.

Tonight I have to bring my son to baseball try-outs.  Whenever I have to do this I can't help but relive those experiences, though my internal angst greatly surpasses that of my children.  And their athletic ability greatly surpasses mine.

Maybe tonight I will make myself feel better by doing some stiff arm clapping and cheering on the sidelines.   It couldn't hurt, right?  As long as I don't attempt to do any splits that is.

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