Sports have never been my forte. When I was four, my parents put me on a YMCA soccer team, one that they both were coaching. But I never played. It’s not that my parents didn’t let me play, I just cried every time they put me on the field. So during every game I just sat with my grandma and ate the snacks that were supposed to be given to the kids after the game.

A year or so later, my parents signed me up for T-Ball. My dad was one of the coaches. I only remember three things from that very short experience. One: the lemonades and snacks after each game. Two: standing in the outfield hoping that the ball would never come to me because I had no idea what I was supposed to do. And three: our team picture where we were supposed to tackle our coaches but since my brother, who was also on the team, was shoved to the back and couldn’t get to a coach, he tackled another kid instead. I can’t remember actually playing the game at all.

I know I was very young during those two experiences, but it didn’t get much better. I played intermural basketball in fourth and fifth grade. I remember several things from that time period. This was when I started fully realizing my worst crutch in sports: my nerves. Before each game, where both teams would shoot lay-ups to warm up, I would fiddle my shorts with my hands. My heart would be pounding. I would try to look ahead and tell myself that the game wouldn’t be that long. Then I would think about how I’d have to come back the following week and play again. Then my stomach would sink with even more dreaded anticipation.

Then the game started. I stayed as far away from the ball as I possibly could, all the while trying to give the illusion that I was actually trying and that I was actively seeking the ball. I moved around in weird circles, trying to look convincing, but when my teammate looked like he was about to pass me the ball, I ran behind a kid from the opposite team. And this would be my routine throughout the entire game. It was always a great feeling when the coach called me in and replaced me. It was also fantastic when I didn’t have to start the game, and instead play the last few minutes in the first quarter.

I only touched the ball a few times over the two years. I remember my coach, who was my friend’s dad, telling me on our last game during fifth grade, “Ryan, I would love to see you score a basket tonight.” What he said made my stomach sink. Oh great, more reason to be nervous. More reason to be intimidated. More reason to actually try and touch the ball. And I’m pretty sure he tried telling my teammates to pass me the ball, because I can remember them actually trying to pass it to me. By this time in our short elementary career, they knew not to do that. But I eventually got the ball, threw it up (which is also what I felt like doing), and missed by a long shot. I remember hearing my coach saying from the sideline, “C’mon Ryan. C’mon Ryan. There you go. There you—oh, Ryan.” At the end of the game, while I did feel some shame and disappointment, ultimately I felt absolute relief.

Two years later, I decided to try basketball again. I supposed that I couldn’t have been any worse at that point in my life. So I signed up for a YMCA league through my church, which is where we played all the games. I played there for three years, from seventh grade to ninth. During my first year, I ended up using the same routines that I used in elementary school. However, I was passed the ball a lot more, only to have it snatched away. Or, when it wasn’t stolen by the other team, I would just kind of pass it back to them out of panic. After a while they stopped stealing from me, probably because of this. I was surely the MVP for the other teams. Oh, and I never scored a basket.

During year two, I finally scored. When I did, all of my family jumped out of their seats and shouted, even my grandma who could hardly walk at the time. Everyone in the gym just looked at them like they were nuts. Their looks said, Calm down, he just scored a basket. He didn't win the national championship. My coach, the same as the last year, told me I improved by 1000 percent, which was kind of sad because I still really sucked. The following year I only scored a handful of times, but I did notice that I had gotten a little better. I think the biggest thing holding me back was my nerves.

Before high school, I attended a summer basketball camp, where I hoped to “sharpen my skills” before trying out for the freshman team, which I never did because I was too nervous. During the camp’s first game in a small tournament, I caught the ball after our team’s tallest player caught the jump at the beginning and I ran down to the basket as fast as I could and scored a lay-up. When I was running to the basket, I remember thinking, Wow, no one’s chasing me! Then after I scored I turned around and my teammates yelled, “That wasn’t our basket!”

Camp didn’t do much to improve my skills. I also ended up joining the track team, my first and only rodeo with high school sports. I actually enjoyed it, even though I wasn’t fast and I had terrible endurance. My nerves weren’t as bad then, because I got so used to embarrassing myself over the years and during the beginning of the track season that I just didn’t care anymore.

Although I had a good time, I didn’t do it again the next year. I kept pretending to be interested in basketball, too, but I never played again. I also went through a phase in middle school where I claimed to “want to play” baseball. For Christmas I got a glove, a pitchback, and even some football types-of-stuff, because I claimed to like that, too. I look back and wish that I had asked for stuff that I actually wanted. I pretended to like sports so that I could fit in. I made myself play them so that I could show myself that I could fit in.

Playing sports was something I never really wanted to do. However, I wouldn’t go back and change a thing. I made a lot of friends and came out with a bunch of funny stories to tell. That's the real point here: You experience life and you laugh, and that's just what I did. And who else can claim the super-awesome title of “MVP for the Other Team?”