I’m not great at sport (being unable to catch or throw the chief cause). In team sports I was picked last. In the primary school sports, I got to sit behind the kid holding the board with a huge ‘1’ painted on it, along with a few others who had missed with every ball in the target throw and I’d look longingly at my best friend where she sat holding the number ‘3’ board with a heap of kids who hadn’t missed one. On the little score card pinned to our t-shirts that listed the seven events, I’d have a total score of seven at the end of the day. And I’d pretend that I didn’t care that my friend had 21 on hers.
In the high school swimming sports I felt kind of cool saying I was part of the relay team but I was in it because there were only four girls in our age group. It didn’t matter who swam in what order; there wasn’t a chance in the world that our final swimmer could make up for the time I lost them. In hindsight, maybe I didn’t gain any ground each time I let my feet touch the bottom in the shallow half of the pool to jump and propel myself forward.
The Olympics are well underway and beyond the opening ceremony, I haven’t taken a lot of interest. With our TV dominated by ABC Kids, our radio by Jewel or Kasey Chambers (depending on whether it’s Elsie’s turn to choose or Maeve’s) and our delivered newspapers by reports of our small town darts competition or the rain we’ve either just had or badly need, I’ve missed much of the media coverage about our medal hopefuls and tallies.
So this morning over breakfast, Anthony announced that James Magnusson lost by 1/100th of a second. And I said, ‘Well he didn’t lose at all—that’s just the time it takes for the bloke at the end of the lane to press the stopwatch.’
I’ve never seen Anthony laugh as hard or for as long. I covered my face and made him promise he wouldn’t tell his brother or sisters that I said that.
Lack of ability and lack of interest aside, I take full responsibility, it was a really dumb thing to say.
What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said?