Team sports were not my forte. Basketballs hit me on the head. A squash ball pelted my eyeball. A soccer ball hit me on the mouth. I hit my mother in the head with a soccer ball. I got burns on my knees when I tried to slide for the volleyball. I literally tried every single sport out there. I preferred yoga and hiking to a sport where balls flew at my head. What was worse than the team sport itself was REQUIRED team sports.

In an attempt to fulfill the requirement, I joined the field hockey team. I clumsily played through the practices and sat on the bench every single game. Field hockey started to consume my whole day. I woke up in the morning with visions of the field hockey coach being stabbed in the eyes with rusty field hockey sticks. The coach was not a fan of me- I tried my hardest, but what can I say? I'm just not the jersey wearing type.

I guess it's a requirement that everyone play in at least one game. I was completely content with sitting on the bench, as I didn't want to be the one to bring the entire team down. One day, during an away game, I was sitting on the bench distracted as I normally was, until, suddenly, the coach tells me I'm going into the game. I quadruple checked that she said my name and she got frustrated. I stood at the edge of the field waiting for the blow of the whistle that indicated I was going into the game. I thought maybe I could play slightly okay just for these five minutes that I was going to be into the game. Maybe I would even play well.

The referee blows the whistle and I start to jog into the field. A few yards in front of me a wind pushes a plastic bag through the air. I bring my focus back to the field and continue running, field hockey stick in hand. Before I could even get to the spot I was supposed to fill, the plastic bag hits me. It has a mind of its own and is extremely aggressive. The plastic bag whips around my field hockey stick and wraps around it several times. Frazzled, I stand there shaking the field hockey stick trying to remove the plastic bag,

From the side of the field I hear the coach saying, "NEVER MIND COME BACK!". I run back to the side of the field feeling slightly ashamed, slightly relieved. I, defeatedly, unwrapped the plastic bag from my stick. My field hockey expertise would have to show itself another day (i.e.: never). You can probably guess which one I am in the photo above. This story is a suggestion to all schools everywhere: please let yoga and pilates fulfill the team sports requirement.

Thank you, plastic bag, for embarrassing me far less than I would have been embarrassed if I had played in that field hockey game. For that, I salute you. To the person who never recycled the plastic bag: Thank you. Who knew a savior could come in the form of a Stop and Shop grocery bag.