The scars of a young nerd do not fade entirely with age

[timbarber142]

This is a really interesting subject for me for a lot of reasons. I was -HORRIBLE- at anything athletic. It was ugly.

I was really tall (I measure 6'3" now, but I was not a whole lot shorter than that in Middle School), but gangly. People assumed I was great at basketball and would "draft" me really early on, only to be disappointed that I wasn't super coordinated. It was almost as painful to have a lot expected of you and fail than to have nothing expected from you at all.

 

But about halfway through my sophomore year, I underwent a massive mental re-frame. I didn't want to let my opinion of me be tied to the opinions of people I couldn't relate to and who didn't know me at all. It seemed to me like having a poet proofread a science journal, or asking a programmer to critique your art. Nobody was an expert in me except me.

 

I knew my shortcomings. I had more than a few of them. I vowed that I would work on them, but that the whole process would need to be separate from the people who were mean to me, who said rude things.

 

I didn't want to do anything for the people that hurt me. It's proven true time and again that doing things for yourself and the people that you love is far more effective than doing something to get back at somebody else. The best revenge is a life well lived.

 

Isn't it amazing how much of this is mental? I love sports now, and can geek out about them like crazy. The crazy stats geeks at places like Football Outsiders are geekier even than I am! I mean, look at this guy! He's one of my heroes, but nobody would ever confuse him for a meathead:

 

http://250.browndailyherald.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/Sports-AaronSchatz-bam.jpg

 

I love it.

This isn't to say that every nerd should love sports. But that any nerd who's WANTED to love sports should not be ashamed to. Nor be made to feel ashamed to.

[KnightOfHvn]

Part of me feels like I shouldn't have opened this thread. Reading some of the entries had me back in sixth grade, the chubby kid in sweatpants, staring at the pretty girl across from him as she says, "I don't care if you fail me, I'm not dancing with that." I could hear the italics.

 

I never understood PE. All of my instructors except for one was a heavy set male, tucked in shirt, whistle and a hat. They all yelled, they all said that if you didn't hit their markers, you were a failure. My eighth grade year, the madman of the day told me that I had three pitches to hit the ball or he was going to hit me in the stomach. Missed two, hit the third...and almost took off his head. "Satisfied?"

 

It wasn't until my last PE coach that things turned around. He pulled me aside before the first day, "You don't want to be here, do you?"

"No."

 

"You've had some ***holes for PE teachers before, right?"

 

"Yeah."

 

He was quiet for a second. "I looked at your grades over the years. Ds and Es in that, As and Bs in everything else. You dress out every day and you try, you'll get a B, I guarantee it."

 

I never worked harder for a PE coach in my life. I liked that guy. Amazing attitude for a Football Coach.