Goal

I’m not an athlete. You’re welcome. I’ve never played a team sport. Again, you’re welcome. 

Look, some people are meant to take to the field, ice, pitch, floor, court, mound, whatever, and others are meant to pursue the arts and humanities. Or, as our super-scholastic Premier of Ontario calls it, basket-weaving courses. 

I’ll have you know that I have never weaved a basket. I can’t even braid my own hair.  But I’ve studied the political history of this nation, and I assure you, buck-a-beer was not a home run. Closing the Ontario Science Centre? Foul. Kids don’t need science. They need trades, by golly, so they can build the spa next to the new and improved science centre. I digress; not everyone is born to be an athlete. 

That doesn’t diminish the ability of people like me to appreciate sports. We’re passionate fans. We’re not couch coaches, because we don’t pretend to know better than the athletes who are actually in the moment of play. We’re content to sit back and watch, amazed by it all. And between the quarters, periods, half-times and innings, we weave baskets.

Don’t tell my employer, but I watched the Canadian women’s Olympic hockey gold medal game during work hours. Shhh. It moved me to tears to see the crushing defeat of these women in a rivalry that was every bit as intense as the Sunday morning battle of the Canadian men’s Olympic hockey gold medal game. 

It’s not okay to say you “hate” another team, but I strongly dislike American teams winning gold. Yet this is what makes sports exciting. Silver is nothing to be ashamed of, even it was tarnished by the taste of defeat. If I could weave them all baskets to make them feel better, you know I would.

In between those two hockey games, my buddy Jay took me to a Toronto Rock lacrosse game. The last few minutes on the clock were edge-of-your seat exciting. We (as in, not me) won. There is nothing like a lacrosse goal, getting that hard white ball past the goalie with his big padding, big mitts, the roar of the crowd, the celebration. I would love to know how that feels.

It’s not in the cards for me. I’m not about to join a sport now. Don’t “never say never” me. Some of us score goals, some of us just make written lists of objectives, call them goals, and tick off the box we’ve drawn next to each line item as we’ve completed them. Don’t knock it. A win is a win. 

My chosen sport is turning everyday mundane tasks into a personal best challenge, like throwing recyclable containers into the blue box from varying distances. Juice containers. Empty cans. Milk jugs. I mean, in all fairness, they’re light and they bounce. No gold medals for me. I switched to laundry, turning folded up socks into basketballs, tossing them across the room into the laundry basket. I missed eight attempts before throwing in the towel (see what I did there?). 

What I learned is, I lack aim, dexterity and the positive mental fortitude to pursue excellence when faced with defeat, as noted by my Grade 3 gym teacher (if he’d let me choreograph a dance routine instead of swinging at bat, it could have been a very different educational outcome).

There’s a place for all of us in sports.