I'm a squib. If you know Harry Potter at all (and really, are there more than a handful of parents of the non-fundamentalist or non- Amish variety out there who haven't been totally inundated with all things Potter over the last near- decade?), then you know that a squib is a non-magical person born to a magical family.
No, I'm not a wizard- or a witch.
I was, however, born to a sports family. My mother actually went into labor with me at a basketball game. (My dad was coaching. He sent her to the hospital with an assistant coach and stayed to finish the game.) I spent my earliest days on bleachers in gyms and on fields, watching cheerleaders and slurping pop rocks, pixie sticks and sodas (ah, the 70's)...and wishing I could go home. I didn't get it. I didn't get the rules. I didn't get the motivation for all that running around and yelling. I would have much preferred a book or a Hardy Boys rerun.
See, I was what they call a "sickly kid." I had asthma and allergies and I was pretty much always sniffling, wheezing or hacking up a lung. I didn't play like other kids 'cause I was much more likely to be lying on the sofa recuperating. Don't go feeling all sorry for me- I thought all that running around and yelling looked sort of dumb and I was way more interested in what Ma, Pa, Laura and Mary Ingalls were up to. It really didn't bother me.
Except when I was healthy and it was recess. Everyone else looked forward to going outside to run and do the monkey bars...but I didn't know how to do those things very well, if at all. I can't throw a ball, I can't hit a ball, I can't do a layup, and I still don't understand the rules to most organized sports. This is simply...unacceptable. I want to know the rules to at least football and basketball. I want to be able to throw a respectable spiral and a hit a jump shot- and it would be nice if I could pitch and hit, even just a little.
So that's the next step in the Bad Ass project. Obviously I can't do it all at once so right now I'm focusing on football. I'm going to learn to throw a spiral this fall. I'm going to learn the rules of this stupid game. I'm going to shake off my squibness where football is concerned 'cause how freakin' hard can it be? High School boys can learn it.
Badass is being willing to name one's weaknesses and shortcomings- and then taking them on.