Thursday, January 25, 2007


When I was very young, I would make fun of people whom I considered to be less intelligent by saying they were incapable of introspection. Now, as Sinatra would say, in the twilight of my years, the joke is on me. I’m the one who never really practiced introspection. I understand very little about myself.

Friends from school days describe me as the class clown. That is the truth. But was it a need for attention, boredom, or an inability to concentrate that made me that? Maybe it was all three. I never thought about it.

I had some strange attitudes when playing sports. I once scored a touchdown from the three yard line. But the hole in the line I ran through was so big anyone could have done it. So the touchdown was a let down. Anyone could have scored it. I didn’t feel good for the team, I only felt disappointed that I hadn’t done anything special.

In another football game our team was winning so easily I lost interest. Here’s the weird part, I honestly wanted to go to our coach and ask him if it would be okay if I played for the other team. I didn’t do it, but I wanted to. It would have been a lot more challenging for me. Maybe I wanted to be the best player on a poor team rather than just another player on a good team. I don’t know.

Playing center field at a critical point in a very important baseball game, a ball was hit on a line between me and the left fielder. I knew that by making a maximum effort I had a chance to catch that ball. But I also knew that I was the only one in the park who would have thought I had a chance. I was so afraid of trying and failing I didn’t try. I turned to chase the ball down in outfield and we lost the game. Needless to say, that memory has haunted me.

Maybe someone can explain me to me.


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