Club SEBU

I pretended to be a track and field athlete for a year of college...oh what an experience it was. I only participated in field events because that's where my expertise was... Or because I was not the fastest and that was the only place where I thought I could hide my slow-twitch fibers. Considering the fact that even the events that I participated in needed speed, I will let you conclude why my career on the track was cut short.  One thing I learned on the track more so than anything, is that you cannot.. I repeat... You CANNOT hide speed, or in my case, not having speed at all. On the basketball side of the world, there are ways for me to disguise my lack of straight away speed.  These ways include the amount of direction changes in a game, the smaller dimensions of the court compared to on a track, and running away from heavy footed post players I've had to avoid my entire playing career so I don't break any bones. The thing with track is there is only o

I learned this was my fate at the age of 11. I was in the middle of my annual back-to-school haircut, when a man in his mid-20's came into the shop to cause trouble. I say cause trouble because he did not stay long, or get his haircut... He walked in, said a few hellos, then vanished. Right before he vanished, he came up to the man who was cutting my hair, they spoke, and after he looked at me with a puzzled stare. He backed up to make sure that I knew he was trying to get my attention. I looked up at him, and he said, in a confident and matter-of-fact fashion, "Oh no...he's not going to have that hairline very long...you can already see the Batman symbol in there". Before I could jump up and challenge him to a duel, he was outside of the shop and on his way to another barbershop to probably ruin another child's day. When I returned home, I went to the bathroom and took a good hard look into the mirror.  I had some self-talk to do. "

Aligned with the theme of youthful mistakes from the last post,  Stomach Bug in my Knee , here's another mishap... In this story, I didn't fake a sickness but I almost caused a real one. To start this story with a vague and ambiguous opening statement, we had a project in school where we took home a potato. I am sure there was a more involved lesson with the potato before we took it home, but clearly, I did not grasp the applicability of it. So, for me...I just had an extra potato at home that I would eventually eat once my mom cooked it, and I was okay with that.  I felt that I was participating in that weeks' grocery shopping and was proud of it. We all put our potatoes in small paper bags, and I shoved mine into my book-bag then got onto my bus. Somewhere between putting the potato in my book-bag and sitting on the bus, I completely forgot that the potato was in my possession. Roughly 15 minutes later when I arrived home and got off the bus, I followed my

I raised my hand in class as a young elementary student and asked if I could go to the nurse's office... When asked what for, I complained of a stomach ache that was inhibiting my learning. Once my request was granted, I slowly walked to the nurse's quarters, as I tried to develop symptoms of the sickness I claimed to have caught a few moments earlier. I entered the nurse's office, was greeted and said that my stomach was bothering me.  She graciously let me rest on one of the beds to see if it would get any better, which I was sincerely appreciative of... Not because of the concern for my health, but because this bought me a few more moments of quiet time to think up a story that will ultimately make or break my claim. I laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling with my hands on my stomach, contemplating whether or not I should just throw in the towel or continue on this risky and dishonest path. At that naive age, I felt that I dug the hole too deep and had to c