Wednesday, December 2, 2009
My Most Embarrassing Moment (Sort Of)
Everybody has one of these stories to tell. So, before you sit there, reading, and pass judgment, be prepared to bare your own soul. If not, miss me with the slick talk...
It was my senior year in high school. I had become one of the top sprinters in Burlington County, NJ, that year. One of our biggest rivals was Kennedy High, in Willingboro, NJ. This is the same town that Carl Lewis had the beginnings to his legendary Track & Field career. In fact, his father, who has since passed away, was at the meet.
The day started off pretty good as I competed in the High Jump. This was my first year in this event. I was one of the few cats in my school that could dunk on a regulation basket consistently. One of the coaches saw it, and before you know it, the local papers were saying I was leading the high jump for our team. Riiight.
Now, did I have "hops?" Absolutely! 2-handed monster dunks and reverses were almost effortless for me. But...that doesn't necessarily translate to high-jump success. Long story short, because I'm digressing... Carl Lewis' dad told me I had the most spring he had seen in high-jumper, but I needed work on my technique. Understatement on a very high level, but it amped me up.
Onto "my" event: the 200-meters. Perfect race for me because I didn't have a great start, but my recovery speed was on point. I won most of my races coming from behind. *pause* The gun goes off. After 10 meters, I have 2 runners in front of me. I'm not too worried because I know my closing speed, and I hadn't hit the after-burners yet.
We come off the curve, fairly close. I'm just about to shift into that extra gear, when I feel something isn't right. Not pain, but something just doesn't feel right. AW DAMN! My one-eyed man decides to make an appearance, slapping against my damned leg! Kennedy and Willingboro High Schools were known for having a shitload of honeys. FOINE ones too. At this very moment, it seemed like every single fine female in that town was on that fence, watching me... FML moment.
So, I did what any red-blooded teenage boy in that situation would do: I stopped, placed the offending appendage back in it's proper shelter, and walked across the finish line. Hell, I was last anyway. But...and this is important, none of those chicks had "small penis" jokes. In fact, we could say I was made to feel better about the occurence, later that weekend.
I ended up going to the States, that year. I finished 5th in the 200. Not what I wanted, but respectable. I'd like to hear from you guys about YOUR embarrassing experiences...