Underpants On The Outside

When I was a kid, I played baseball, basketball and soccer at one time or another.  In some ways I was like Bo Jackson or Deion Sanders; an all-around athlete who could play any position in any sport with the same level of aptitude and athleticism.  Yep, I sucked at everything.  The baseball chapter of my life lasted for all of one less-than-legendary game.

In fact the only athletic competition I ever won was a “belly flop” contest in summer camp.  I was the one guy willing to lay myself out on a sandpit at full speed, and something about watching me roll around and suck wind made the other kids think it wasn’t worth it.  Well, take it from the guy with his name engraved (written) in gold (ball-point pen) on the trophy (five-cent blue ribbon): it’s easy to get your wind back when it’s scented with the sweet smell of victory.

Still, it was apparent to this one-time champion that I would be better off devoting my time and effort to scholastic pursuits, and I’m glad I did.  I might have given up money and fame, but when you’re playing in the Mathlympics and the Vocabathon, you’re doing it for love.

Apparently, I’m no different than the rest of America.  After the rest of the world beat us in soccer, baseball and basketball, we took our ball, went home, and hit the books.  And since we’re 4 for 4 in Nobel prizes, I’d say it’s paying off handsomely. 

I’ll bet that somewhere in Italy there’s a World Cup trophy that  isn’t shining so brightly any more.