I've noticed a lot more Calgary Flames flags on car windows these days and I think it's great people are supporting their favourite team. I, however, will not be jumping on the fandom bandwagon. Before you start sending me hate mail let me explain.
I've noticed a lot more Calgary Flames flags on car windows these days and I think it's great people are supporting their favourite team. I, however, will not be jumping on the fandom bandwagon. Before you start sending me hate mail let me explain. It's not that I don't support the Flames or other area sports teams, it's just I have a painful sports history that makes me cringe.
I am not an athlete. To be honest, for the safety of myself and others involved, it's just best if I stay far away from sporting activities all together. I have broken numerous bones, strained muscles and been the not so proud owner of bruises so dark you'd think I'd drawn them on, all in the name of athletics. I am not what you'd call a co-ordinated individual.
The first time I broke my wrist (yes, I broke it on two separate occasions) I was dancing in my living room (most likely to Bette Middler or the Cocktails soundtrack as that was all my parents would let me listen to). I am consistently cold and so I had socks on during what I can only imagine must have been the dance to end all dances (in reality it was more likely an erratic flailing of arms and some off-tempo steps). In my ultimate wisdom I decided to attempt an elaborate jump to be the grand finale to my epic dance. This would have been fine had I not had such a dependence on socks as the socks made me slip on the carpet and I landed with my full weight on my wrist, fracturing it rather spectacularly.
In an equally impressive (and by impressive I of course mean embarrassing) sporting injury, I attempted to partake in jogging. As I ran through my neighbourhood I did not see the apple core on the road in front of me until it was too late and I was landing full force on my knees. At first I didn't feel any pain over the shock of the fall but as I looked down at my now stinging knee, I noticed a two-inch long cut so deep I could see the bone of my knee cap. In my excellent luck I had slipped on the apple core and landed directly on a large piece of glass. This particular injury resulted in stitches and an impressive scar on my knee.
Then there are my poor fingers, all of which (excluding my thumbs) have been broken or damaged due to my attempts at sports. My middle finger on my right hand is probably the worst and abruptly skews to the right at the top joint. This hand-model ruining injury was the result of my attempt at ball hockey, a surprisingly brutal sport. This injury was the result of a slash from an opponent that resulted in a blood-curdling scream from me and disbelief from my parents that I was as injured as I claimed to be. As such the bone was never set and I am forever left with an unattractive reminder of my failure at ball hockey.
I can't even watch sports without coming away injured. Back when Calgary was home to the Cannons baseball team I was invited to a game with a friend. It turned out baseball was not as exciting to watch as I hoped and I was more interested in my snow cone than the game. As I sat in the stands with my face down in the icy treat I was not aware a flyball was coming at a fast speed directly towards my head. For those that haven't been hit in the head with a baseball, let me just tell you it doesn't tickle. To add insult to injury the announcer decided it would be appropriate to produce a boing sound over the intercom. In the final act that solidified my dislike of baseball, the kid behind me grabbed up the ball that had just smashed me in the head and decided to keep it for himself.
Though I am happy for the Flames, I think it's best for my health if I stay in and let the rest of you celebrate on my behalf.
