20160206 (killplay)

Despite mounting evidence of the dangers of brain injuries resulting from aggression games like American football, fans, beers in hand, will happily pay huge fees to watch these phony battles and still consider themselves above the barbaric Romans who watched gladiators fight to death. Cf., http://www.salon.com/2016/02/04/go_ahead_watch_them_die

Never was a team player; never

Will be. It’s not because I think

I’m so much better. It’s because

I know I’m so much worse. Long 

Have I not had the moxie for

Physical endeavor. My mom told

Me as a child I had something

Called “rheumatic fever” which

Supposedly forever damaged

My ability to sustain physical

Exertion for even minimal periods.

A quick glance at WebMD

Suggests I probably didn’t have

It. Throughout my life others

(Gym teachers, ROTC drill 

Instructors, and my kids’

Scoutmasters) have variously

Attributed failures to run a mile,

March with fellow ROTCs,

Even keep up with scout patrols

In the woods to excessive fat in

The ass department, general laziness,

And years of just not keeping fit.

Granted the years of parenthood

Witnessed a familial swelling

Of the posterior but I don’t recall

Ever being fit even when I was

Thin—about seven years after

I left grad school and worked 

As a mailman. Never lifted

Weights, tried all sorts of in-home

Workouts—Canadian Air Force

Exercises—to no avail. When it

Came down to “breaking the

Wall” the wall always won with

Bouts of nausea, dizziness, 

Head pain, and a protracted

Inability to catch my breath.

My dear Jean could swim

Fifty laps easily; I could barely

Get across the pool and was done.

I tried soccer with the kids

Once when we camped. In

Thirty seconds of running

After them on the field I

Fell to the ground to watch the

Clouds spin as I struggled

For air. So now we’re into this

Weekend of vaunted sports

Competition which I shall

Not name. It is the quintessential

American to-do about what I

Think is not very much. I tried

Field games before I got glasses

And caught too many softballs

With my face (one is too many,

I persisted and got four). Then

When I got spectacles I tried

Football. Coming home with

Broken frames twice inspired

My mom to announce, “Football

At these prices is not your game.

You’ll do better as a bookish lad.”

It wasn’t competition that got me

Down so much as losing in an

Activity for which I had no

Ability. I could out-math, out-spell,

Out-debate any of the monsters

Of intramural sports. They shied

Away from my turf as I shied from

Theirs. My fear is that it will take

A death on the field during some

Super-game to bring aficionados 

To their senses. But so far, death

Hasn’t taught people much about

Auto racing, boxing, or wrestling.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016