{A gay blog on news, music, & life}

A Gym Story

My high school is a jun­gle. Yes, I know call­ing it a jun­gle is very typ­i­cal and isn’t the newest way of describ­ing a sub­ur­ban high school ex. Mean Girls. One thing in high school that every gay teens dreads is the 40 minute to an hour daily gym class. Well it wasn’t that bad when we did Yoga, but for the most part it was hell man­i­fested in a class required by the state of New Jer­sey. Gym is espe­cially hell­ish when I’m stuck play­ing soft­ball with the “Super Jocks” of my school. “Super Jocks”. A typ­i­cal Super Jock goes to the gym on a daily basis, work­ing out is home­work, and hav­ing fun is being at the gym.

I’m stuck in soft­ball with out any real com­pany. Sure there are some girls who also got caught in this death trap, but they don’t count because they are soul­less husks of tan baked flesh. So us new­com­ers, this is the sec­ond cycle of soft­ball for the Super Jocks, were split up amoung the already well estab­lished rival teams.  I would love to say that I was picked last, but the gym teacher had to put me on a team which did not please the res­i­dent Super Jock team­mates. For the most part I sucked I some­how fell while try­ing to catch the ball on the first day. I per­son­ally didn’t think it was that big of deal. The high school gos­sip machine saw it oth­er­wise. The next day one of my friends relays me the mes­sage that some peo­ple were dis­cussing my fall yes­ter­day. Oh yes the great GYM soft­ball blun­der of Eric Thor. Our team lost or tied all the games for the most part and me and the girls of the team were blamed for our poor record.

Though every­thing was turned upside down on the final day of soft­ball last Fri­day. It was a desert like day, sun beat­ing down on my dark navy t shirt and the astro­turff radi­at­ing some extra heat right at me. Last inning, and we were up at bat. We already had got­ten two outs. We had a run­ner on third and first. The best part of all this is that I was up at bat. The hopes of my team were eveporated,dry, non exis­tent. There was only sweat, and tears. No hope to be found. The “Gay Kid” can not hit any­thing. I got up to the plate, and the gym teacher slow­ley lobbed the soft­ball at me and I swung as hard as I wanted to. I hit “The Sweet Spot” of the ball apper­ently. It went past sec­ond base, and every sin­gle one of there play­ers overly jocky play­ers. Straight down the cen­ter and towards the bleach­ers. Great I had to run, but also great hit as well.  Not only did  our run­ner on third and our run­ner on first get a run. I as well got a walk­ing in field HOME RUN thing. I was over­whelmed, and didn’t even believe  I won the game for us. Well I didn’t really care about win­ning I just carred about being how awe­some I was. The game ended after my hit and we could finally claim a clear vic­tory. News of me, the gay kid who made the incred­i­ble hit spread far and wide through­out the halls of my high school. It was a mom­ment of tri­umph. I was awe­some, and ya shows you.

June 15th, 2008 Reply