Pass me the ball!

Reflecting on my recent High School epsiode reminded me of one crisp Winter day while I attended Marianopolis CEGEP in the late 1980s. At the time, I spent much of my day playing cards and ping pong with fellow students in the 'lounge', an area to hang out in between classes. Someone announced that a casual broomball game was starting, and we all threw on jackets and raced outside.

Although I enjoy watching Sports, I've never been particularly gifted with any athletic skills. I slid back and forth on the outdoor rink, away from the action but having fun. Suddenly, I was hit from behind by an opposing team-mate, crumpling to the rough ice in a startled heap.

Feeling a sour anger well up inside me, I regained my footing. To my own amazement, I found the energy to race up the ice and soon scored a couple of goals, which brought shouts of congratulations from my team mates; I even made a point of checking the dude who had hit me, and I'll never forget the surprise (and fear) in his eyes after our brutal collision.

After the game ended (I can't recall if our side won or not), I stumbled back inside, where I discovered a huge rip in the seat of my pants. I was extremely embarrassed, and slipped out of classes early that day. Still, my torn pants couldn't remove the sweet feeling of momentarily being considered an equal by some cool kids.

As someone who has always shied away (or felt intimidated, perhaps) from the 'in' crowd, my moment in the Winter sun is one I'll always remember.