Mirror Image

You may have surmised this about me by now, but I’m slightly competitive. And by slightly, I mean I’m a freak who feels the need to turn even the slightest task into a competition. I’m also extremely hard on myself when I’m not playing up to par. That’s just the way I’m wired and I’ve been that way since I was a kid. I played baseball, basketball, soccer, tennis and I ran cross-country growing up. I love sports, still do, but I was a little soresport asshole even as a 6-year-old.

Seriously, I was obnoxious and then some. If I struck out in baseball, I cried and threw a fit when I got back to the bench. But then if I hit a double, I cried and whined while standing on second base for not hitting a homerun. Anything short of perfection just wasn’t good enough in my book so I’d consistently whine, cry, throw things and act like a spoiled little brat when I played. I could’ve gone 1 for 3 with a double and 2 RBIs, which is a good day. But if I struck out those other two at-bats, I’d be a wreck. Those two strikeouts would stay with me for the rest of the week and I’d dwell on them and beat myself up.

One time, when I was playing on the 11-year-old all star team, we won first place in a tournament. Yet in the picture, I have tear stains on my face because I had a horrible game. WE WON FIRST PLACE AND I WAS CRYING.

But that was when I was young and stupid and hadn’t learned better right? As you all know, I’ve started to get into the sport of curling and I really like it. It’s harder than I thought but I’m enjoying it and I’ve been happy because I’ve been making good progress every week. Yesterday I went into my match with a lot of confidence because I thought I was finally mastering the game and honing my skills.

Yeah right!

I sucked last night. I mean, I was horrible. I had a hard time putting any of my stones in play. I couldn’t read the ice for shit and I was either throwing my stones too light or too heavy. As a result, I was dragging my team down with me and we got slaughtered. Then, halfway through the game as I was trying to focus and bear down to improve, I actually slipped and fell during my throw.

That was all I could take.

I felt like putting a hole in the wall with my broom. I wanted to let loose a stream of profanity that would’ve made Andrew Dice Clay blush. I wanted to hit something or someone. But I knew I couldn’t and I didn’t want to make a scene in front of all these people who I’m just getting to know. So I tried to reign in my homicidal thoughts and I thought I was doing a good job.

Until I caught my reflection in the glass.

And at that point, I felt like someone punched me right in the gut. It stopped me in my tracks. I stared at myself for a few moments in disbelief, shock — and frankly — slight amusement. There I was with this scowl, gritting my teeth, wringing my hands tightly in frustration. Kind of like this:


No, he’s not my kid. Not at all.

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12 thoughts on “Mirror Image

  1. Ha! I’m the same way, except I never cried when I struck out. May have thrown a bat or two, but I never CRIED! It’s a curse to be a perfectionist. Add in competitive, and it’s a bloody nightmare.

    I’ve seen my “mad face” in the windows of conference rooms when I’m in a nasty depo, and it’s mortifying and yet a little bit amusing when you think you’re being so PC.

  2. If you’re so competitive, why did you puss out on our bet, ya whimp!!!!!! You’re lucky I’m so kind hearted and didn’t make you freeze your nuts off in January.

    By the way, we would all like to see video of you falling….I mean curling.

  3. You need to do a split screen of you and your boy crying to truly see how alike the two of you are.

    And Old Guy…the competitive side sure did not come from you, but maybe the cyring did. How about a 3 generation pic of the \Crying Game?\

  4. Let’s not forget about the time when the Patriots lost a game (we were in Brighton) and you punched a window pane it door in anger. It looked like a murder screen in there and you even ruined a pair of my wife’s sneakers. You need to find a way to creatively channel that frustration and be a role model for Will. If he wonders why you freak out tell him that your paladin with 18 charisma and 97 hit points. I can use my helm of disintegration and do 1D4 damage as my half-elf mage wields his +5 holy avenger

  5. You’re completely ripping off Family Guy with that Paladin and half-elf mage crap! Don’t pass yourself as creative and witty!

    And for the record, Alex pushed me into that pane of glass which caused my arm to go through the window. However, I take full responsibility for giving Liz bad directions to the hospital and then jumping out of a still moving car to head back to the party while bleeding profusely.

    What can I say? Capricious youth…

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