This game , I assume , was designed by psychotherapists to ensure people would eventually land on a therapist ’ s couch . But the game ’ storment doesn ’ t start with a rubber ball in the face . It begins way before you set foot on the court . Before a single ball is thrown , you go through a ritual more intense than anything the Navy Seals ever devised . I ’ m talking about “ picking teams .” This sadomasochistic ritual is intended to break down your soul . It ’ s that torturous , humiliating period that seems to stretch for days , when everything goes into slow motion as you twist inside , break into a sweat , get nauseous , and try to concentrate on dragonflies or drag racers or something nice you heard someone say about you one time . During this period , every insecurity you have is put on display for one purpose and one purpose alone : to allow other kids to hone their skills at sarcasm .
First , captains are picked . If you have any flaws at all , you don ’ t stand a chance at being a captain . The captains then handpick each team player . Have you ever read Lord of the Flies ? It ’ s a novel about civilized boys stranded without adult supervision who become very uncivilized , very fast . Just like in the book , the first picks in dodgeball are predictable , with the fastest and most popular kids getting chosen first , and the weak and nerdy kids , praying the earth will open up and swallow them , are chosen last .
I was first introduced to the game when I was about six years old . This was around the same time that my head started growing . . . without my body . By the time I turned seven , my head was huge . I was christened with the highly creative nickname of “ Big Head Little Body .” What ’ s this got to do with dodgeball ? Well , if you , or any part of you , were a big target , you didn ’ t get picked .
My head was freakishly big . I ’ m talking E . T . big . So , I was usually picked after the slowest or least popular kid in the class . Which , upon reflection , might have meant that I was the least popular . Even if the tiniest girl was a kindergartener who happened to wander into the lineup area , she ’ d get picked before me . When it came to my giant dome , the optics were grim .
Only later would I learn that dodgeball was great preparation for today ’ s reality . That is , how the crowd perceives you matters more than who you really are .
For some of us , optics has less to do with the schoolyard and more to do with our home life . Often , it ’ s those who are the closest to us — uncles , aunts , brothers , sisters , cousins , or parents — who have the hardest time believing we can be anything other than how they see us :
• baby of the family
• little brother
• punk kid
• spoiled brat
• runt of the litter
The people who know us best have a hard time believing there ’ s anything special about us because they think they already know everything about us . They know where we ’ ve been and what we ’ ve done . They know our mistakes and our immaturity .
45