I have always been a bit of a contrarian, choosing the road not taken more times than not as I have made my way through this extraordinary ride called life.
I joined the high school debate club as an avenue to get close to the prettiest girl in school, a blue-eyed German girl named Gerta. She was tall, exceeding my 6’1” by two inches and she was strikingly beautiful, causing quite the uproar in school as just about every boy entered the paddocks to jockey for position to ask her out.
I was not the biggest or strongest, but I was blessed with a plethora of bullshit and I could talk it.
I stalked Gerta like a big game hunter after a predatory feline.
With extreme caution.
I really thought I would “seal the deal” when they announced football tryouts in spring. I could surely impress Gerta with my physical skills and prowess once we put on the pads.
I had already been named as starting left linebacker for the team and on the very last day of spring training, I knew Gerta would be in the stands as we lined up for 40-yard wind sprints.
I scoured the stands until I saw her, and I sent her a wave of acknowledgement in preparation for my race.
I lined up and the starter gun went off.
I got up, and….torn hamstring.
The burn running from buttock to foot down my left leg ended my football season.
I was bummed because in the hierarchy of high school sports, football was king and even more importantly, a letter jacket was the reward for making the team and making it through the season.
I started to panic.
The only sport left for me to get a letter jacket was cross country running and I had never run more than a hundred yards before.
I hated it with a passion.
How boring.
One foot after another, up and down the English countryside for miles…
I had a very forgettable season, finishing dead last on the team, but my performance, as bad as it was, still allowed me to attain my letter jacket.
There were weekly dances at the Teen Club on base where we all met on Friday nights.
I just knew I was the loser in the Gerta sweepstakes; she had her pick of all the football jocks who were basking in the glory of a championship season while I was the worst runner on the worst cross country team in the league.
Snowball’s chance in hell.
I didn’t melt.
Evidently Gerta’s grandfather met her grandmother at a dance in Stuttgart. They fell deeply in love on the day he was cut from the football (soccer) team.
He would go on to run on the school cross country team.
Finishing dead last.
Stay well.
