Dodgeball (Darwinism, macho-style)

I have been informed that starting this past Monday, we're doing a dodgeball unit in PE. And I have nothing (only obviously, I'm lying) to say to that. Because if there is one classic game more primal than dodgeball, I challenge you to name it now. And see, you can't. Because I'm right. Muahahaha.

I'm not saying dodgeball can't be fun. I'm just saying that dodgeball completely and totally follows survival of the fittest. If you can dodge faster and throw harder than anyone you know, you'll kick ass at it (unless you only know really wimpy people).

The problem for me is, some of the guys in my PE class throw hard. Me? I can't throw. End of story. So dodgeball turns into me standing alone on my team's side with everyone else taking shots at me. It feels vaguely like I'm some small fuzzy mammal that people shoot at to stuff and keep on their walls. Everyone knows you're going to get hit at one point or another, the only question is how long you run around trying to prolong your misery.

But enough of the bad analogy. There's one other problem I have with dodgeball, and that's testosterone. No, the game is not actually giving off hormones, but from the way the guys act as soon as the game starts, maybe I'm wrong. Because there's nothing that sends these guys into a frenzy like the chance to hit people. Doesn't that sound like fun, children? You get to serve as moving targets for testosterone-fueled midgets who need to prove their masculinity to the walrus masquerading as our PE teacher.

Oh boy.

There's nothing more pathetically funny in PE than watching two guys, both of whom top out at around 5' 3", battling each other for control of the dodgeball court, the hockey puck, the soccer ball, you name it. These guys are in 10th grade and yet look as though puberty has barely arrived (they've got the pimples to show it, but I'm still skeptical), and due to chronic bad haircuts and a lack of hormones, they're so desperate to show off that they take it out on their PE classes. I'm sure you've seen the type--these are the ones that get worked up over a game of basketball to the point of screaming at their own teammates.

And yes, I've been screamed at. I'm a slacker, and PE is no exception. The fact that I completely lack hand-eye coordination is not a plus. But honestly, when a twit that's a good 2 inches shorter than me starts telling me to "go after the ball!" my first reaction is to flip him off. My second reaction is to laugh, because usually at that point he's made a desperate sprint, only to be cut off by an opposing player who is at least a foot taller than him. Poor little midget-men.

I feel no pity whatsoever.

Macho idiots.

Tsubaki