When I was in grade three, I loathed Friday afternoons. Every Friday afternoon my class would engage in 'Afternoon Sport' Not sure if it was to genuinely promote the importance of physical activity (because all of us were active during recess and lunch) or a plan for my teacher to have a discreet break from teaching.
One afternoon, the class had voted on Rounders. I knew this boy named Abdullah. He was the fastest runner in our grade. He was such an arrogant bastard; I've always wanted to put him in his place.
We started playing. Abdullah was in the same team as I was. I thought nothing of the game. I just wanted this afternoon to pass.
My turn.
I kicked.
I ran to first base.
Repeat.
The game was drawing to a close. Fuck. I was the last runner. In the game, the last runner had to get all the other runners on the bases home in order to win.
"Aw man. We're going to lose" I heard Abdullah say.
That's it. I'm going to bring down this fucker. I gathered enough courage and started walking to my kicking position. Here goes nothing.
I kicked. It was a strong kick. I got two runners home.
I remember a line quickly forming behind me. Lucky strike I thought. I won't get the rest of the players home. I prepared myself to face humiliation.
I kicked again. It was another strong kick. All of the runners ran home. I was overflowing with excitement. People started cheering for me. Then I started to think I could actually win this game. I could prove that Abdullah mother fucker wrong.
My team needed one more point to win the game. I needed to make a home run.
I kicked. It was a high one. I dropped my bat and ran faster than I have ever ran before.
"OUT"
I looked to see a boy holding the ball in his hands smirking at me.
"You're slow" Abdullah blatantly said
And I used to be such a non-competitive person.
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