Saturday, April 6, 2013

On being a bad sport. Part 1.

I have many faults.

As well as being prone to jealousy, whininess, envy, laziness, anger, impatience, dissatisfaction, coveting my neighbours ass and worshiping idols, I am also a really fucking bad sport and have limited ability to regulate my emotions in public.

Over the years there have been a myriad of opportunities for me to demonstrate my epically bad sportsmanship, going right back to my primary school days.

I am just lucky enough to be someone who was gifted with the happy combination of moderate ability in a variety of things, laziness, with vague competitiveness and a sense of entitlement thrown in for good measure.

I am such a catch.  People want to be me, people want to be like me.  Who wouldn't*?

Anyway this combination of enjoyable characteristics has resulted in some fairly epic examples of John McEnroe like behaviour. But like, without the John McEnroe skills to back it up. So, just the bad behaviour. Ugh.

Many of them have become family legend. As you can imagine it brings me NO END OF PLEASURE to hear my parents/much older cousins/aunts and uncles regale family gatherings with tales of my tantruming. NO END OF PLEASURE.

Keep it up guys it isn't getting old YET! YEAH! GIVE ME MORE. I MEAN YOU'VE ONLY BEEN DINING OUT ON THEM FOR ABOUT 20 YEARS BUT WHATEVER**.

Since they all get so much pleasure going on about it I thought I would re-appropriate the stories for the blog. A series of blog posts to be precise. Since they are about me. I may as well try and cash in on them, dudes. It will probably segue nicely into a follow up series of posts on "Taking criticism badly" and "Sulking". Because I do those things too.

Part 1 - Murder on the netball court.

So, back in the day, I used to be quite a whizz on the netball court. When I say whizz, I mean, I could catch and throw a ball and didn't fall over. Much. Couldn't shoot goals or play defence though. That is not at all important in netball though***.

I couldn't find any photos of me at netty so here's some of me circa 1991/2 just being revoltingly precocious anyway. Ugh.

Just acting up a storm for the FANS whilst wearing a ra ra skirt and white moon boots, you gotta problem with dat?


Just banging out a tune on the keyboard for an adoring crowd whilst wearing a white frock and scarlet sash WHAT OF IT?

Just reading Roald Dahl at a family picnic while wearing overalls, a straw hat and a self-satisfied smirk, SO SUE ME!
It came to pass, long ago, that shifting netball club committee politics resulted in my very own parents becoming President, Treasurer, Secretary, Registrar, fundraising coordinators, just basically ALL OF THE POSITIONS. Which included Dad becoming coach of my VERY OWN TEAM. Because of how he is an expert in all the rules and ins and outs of netball and played it for years himself back in the old country****.

You can imagine how AWESOME this was. I loved it sick*****. I especially loved it when Coach Dad would single me out on the court and yell detailed instructions at me during the games, arms gesticulating wildly. Oh how I loved it. And I loved the way it drew UNNECESSARY ATTENTION my way, from the members of the other team. Oh yes I LOVED IT.

One particular Saturday morning we were battling it out on the court with some tough opposition. I was sweaty and grumpy. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Dad waving his arms at me and yelling . He was waving and pointing and instructing. And waving and instructing. And probably coaching too.

I tried to ignore it but it was tough. Sporty Coach Dad was nothing if not persistent. He waved at me a bit more to get me to move over or try harder or run faster or something.

At that moment something in my 11 year old mind snapped and reader, I saw red.  I abandoned my post at Wing Attack and came hurtling over to the sideline where Dad was waving at me, the eyes of both teams on me. I screeched to a halt and shouted, enraged;

"Shut UP DAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDD!!! BLAAARGGHHHHHHH! SNARGGGLLLYYY BLLAAAGGGHH".

I screamed hysterically at him while the crowd looked on in shocked silence.

When I had finished my tirade, I did the worst thing my eleven year old mind could think of.

I did the finger. With both hands. I waved them in his face, ranting incoherently, and then ran screaming from the court into the carpark.



Here is an artist's impression of the alleged incident.



My main memory was the look of bemusement on Dad's face as I turned and fled.  I think he was quite enjoying it. Was this the reaction he had been trying for all along? Who can say.

I can't remember what happened next. I was probably shepherded home and a cloud probably hung over my name for a while, netball wise.

Still, if this, and other similar incidents hadn't occurred, then basically my family and friends would never have anything to talk about ever because APPARENTLY THIS IS A DINNER PARTY STORY THAT JUST KEEPS ON GIVING NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES YOU TELL IT!

So there you have it. Part 1 in a series of MANY MANY instalments where I demonstrate my poor emotional regulation, bad temper and extremely low levels of sportsmanship.

You can thank me later.



*Me. I wouldn't. Actually.
** Ugh.
***It is actually. Kind of the whole point of the game but whatever.
***NOT! That was rugby you fools not netball. Ugh.
*****No I didn't, DUR you guys

28 comments:

  1. omg Sarah, tears are streaming down my face and my partner is demanding to know what is so funny.

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  2. Omg Sarah! I have a stomachache from laughing at 1) "regulating my emotions in public"; 2) how cute those photos of you are; 3) the description of the gesturing-at-your-dad. You are too funny. I rate this your funniest blog post ever, and that's a big call. See you Monday! Love A xx

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  3. Replies
    1. Haha! Oh poor dad he was only trying to be encouraging I am sure it was awful having to run the stupid netball club!

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  4. you are hilarious. (probably I've said that before.)
    but who wouldn't want to yell back if their parent/coach etc yelled at them on the sports field? it sounds like the spirited reaction of a provoked attack to me. and LOVE your pics of you back in the day!

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    1. Haha! I think dad thought it was funny. Poor dad he was forced to run the dumb club and now I'm taking his name in vain!!!

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  5. At least by 11 you knew the correct finger to put out there.
    BTW your artistry, apart from being masterful, looks like the current climate of Western Australia giving the rest of us boges the pissoff.
    BTW - just saw facey - no I can confirm Gizoogle owns 'luff'.
    Go to the light SDM, Gizoogle will always cheer you up in times of bleugh.
    xx

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    1. Ooh I forgot about Gizoogle I am looking it up stat!

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  6. OMG you are a LEGEND!! I played netball for years and I only ever dreamed of doing that to our coach, who thankfully was not my dad. I don't think we had much sportsmanship either, once the entire team was suspended for 12 whole months for 'rough and rude conduct'. Obviously that is only half the story.
    xx

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    1. Woo! I've encountered a bit of rough and rude conduct on the grown up netball court in the last ten or so years. Who knew peeps took this shit so seriously!!??

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  7. Were you an only child? I LOVE the very detailed artist's impression of you giving your dad the finger (s)! But look at you now - all grown up and tantrum-free! (Eh?)

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    Replies
    1. No sulky I have a younger oppressed brother. He will feature in the next off my bad sport tales of woe. I tried to get him to do a guest post because he is a funny little fucker but he pooh poohed the idea.

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  8. Hahahaha So that's where SarahMac comes from? Your likeness to John McEnroe..lol

    I once had a major tanty when my brother got to go home early from school once for some reason but I didn't. Apparently I was sulking and scowling at them and a boy came up to me to console me and I turned around and kicked him in the shins HARD. I was only about 6 or 7. Luckily I only have that one story though.

    Look forward to further installments!

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    1. Only one occasion Ness?! Oh dearie me I have PLENTY!

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  9. Ha ha, I can imagine this being rehashed every family dinner. Bloody hilarious :)

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    1. Ha yes at most family gatherings someone always pulls out one or other of these Sarah tales.

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  10. We can only take so much! I'd have given both my parents both fingers if they tried to make me play netball ;-)

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    1. Stacey I love a bit of netty but it's true, we canonly take so much. Poor Dad was applying his rugby coaching to the netball court. Oops.

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  11. yeah well that what sport does for you ..shouting, yelling, putting fingers in people's faces all the good things in life

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    Replies
    1. They are quite satisfying, I love a good yelling session. Obviously.

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  12. Heheh, I am a pretty good loser actually (lots of practice) but a fricken horrible winner. No offence to your dad, but he probably had it coming. I'm not usually jealous cos I rarely notice what anyone else is doing. My main bad point is a total lack of patience and a very, very, very, very, very bad temper which is only generally provoked by an attack, or what I perceive as an attack, and which I regulate fiercely. Keep that rage clamped down nice and tight.

    Approximately once every 3-4 years I lose the plot. Coming soon, to a tabloid near you...

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    1. Haha! Oh god I hope I don't see that! Yes poor Dad he was only trying to help I am sure.

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  13. I tried to comment here the other day but my phone ate it. I nearly put on my ranty ra ra skirt.... But you had stolen it. Biatch. I am competitive as hell. Luckily I am very extremely awesome at netball (in my own mind) and played shooter for about 17 years. Nothing like flogging a dead shooter. The trick? If you're competitive, only play stuff you're good at. Otherwise, be a quitter. Quitting is for winners.

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  14. I am competitive but lazy, as I mentioned. And am also a quitter! And mediocre. So it makes me GO CRAZY regularly. I LIKE YOUR ADVICE KIM!

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  15. I read this post earlier in the week. I still have a giggle every time I think about it...

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Vent your spleen! You know you want to.

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