A Champ

Friday night, Bert and I went bowling with two other couples. I had only been bowling one time years ago, so I was nervous about making a fool out of myself in front of our new friends. That nervousness coupled with being completely drained from fasting all day made for an emotional Anisa.

We got to the bowling alley and chit-chatted for a little bit before our lane was open. One by one, everybody took their turns. Then I was up.

Like a scared little girl, I looked at Bert with tears in my eyes. I couldn't help my reaction.

"I can't do it. Please go in my place," I pleaded.

He knew that tears would pour down my face at any moment. My bottom lip was quivering, and I couldn't seem to calm myself down. He smiled at me and went in my place.

This is what happens when you were without fail, the last person picked for teams in elementary school P.E. I have never forgotten how sad I would be each week as people divided into teams, and I was the last chosen. I still remember when we were divided into teams for 5th grade basketball. I made both my baskets, shooting granny-style, of course. My team was so proud of me, and I remember that day so clearly. Since I made my baskets, I got to stand with all the other "cool people" who made theirs. That was my one victory in all of P.E.

I don't know how un-athletic I truly am. Being picked last made me believe I was uncoordinated. I was shy and always a girly-girl, so I was overcome with nervousness at any physical activity. As an adult, I find that most everything I try, I'm not so terrible at it. I can hit a golf ball. I can work out at the gym. I can shoot pretty well.

And I found out I'm not a bad bowler.

When it was time for me to go again, I took my turn. I pulled myself together, and the ball didn't go in the gutter. My new friends were nice, and told me they didn't care how I played. I didn't want any more attention to the fact that I'd nearly dissolved into tears, so I just smiled and enjoyed the rest of the evening.

Bert is probably the most athletic person I've ever known. It's intimidating to play any sport with someone like him. He drives a golf ball an insanely long way. He bowls so hard that you'd swear the floor is about to go up in flames. But he doesn't care that I'm only so-so. He's just proud that I try.

I'm 25 years old, and there is no more P.E. I will never be picked last for a team again. And for that, I am relieved. I don't have to prove myself any longer. But, I am still proud of that day in 5th grade that I defied my team. For one brief moment, I knew what it was like to be a champ.