My Sports-Related Injury

The universe has a message for me. It's been trying to convey this message to me for the last 20+ years. The message is, "Awkward Mormon Girl, stay away from sports!"

After countless sprained ankles and many collisions of volleyballs, basketballs, tether balls, and soccer balls with various parts of my body, you'd think I'd be getting the message loud and clear. But no. Noooo. Optimism prevails. Optimism, and a sufficient amount of memory loss to make me forget that I'm not very good at sports or, well, anything that requires moving of any kind...but especially sports.

Shortly before I left for my trip, I decided it would be a good idea to go to a combined ward activity which featured the sport of soccer.

Just before the activity, I was at a family dinner at Chuck-a-Rama. By the time I left for the activity, I was stuffed-a-rama. Still I went.

Best Friend Boy and many others were in the middle of a game when I arrived. At first I just watched, because I was too full to run, but I didn't want to be that person who goes to a sports activity and refuses to participate. So I joined a group of guys who were throwing around a football.

One of my very few sports skillz is that I can catch a football. I can't throw it, but I can catch it. As I don't know a lot of girls who can say the same, I'm naturally proud of this skill.

So, essentially, I was showing off. I was being a big show-off. And I guess I got what was coming to me.

One of the guys threw long to me. I scrambled to catch the ball. It bounced off my fingertips. And when it did, it bent my right ring finger in a way that a right ring finger was never meant to bend.

For some reason, instead of paying immediate medical attention to my finger, I caught a few more passes. Then, still full of food and with an aching finger, I ambled over to the soccer game. Then I joined the soccer game.

ME: Wait, why am I doing this? I am so full. I don't want to move.

ALSO ME: Plus your finger seems to be sprained.

ME: Ohhh. Is that what that is?

ALSO ME: Plus, we both know you're just going to get hit by the soccer ball.

I had a good point.

I ended up leaving the activity early and went to my parents', where I proceeded to explain my injury and seek medical aid.

My mother, who is an RN, was all, "Poor, poor baby! Ice your poor little finger, and I'll get you a splint to wear."

My father, who played college and high school sports but has terribly un-sport-y children, was all, "Did you say that you got injured playing sports? Good job!" and hugged me.

Parents are weird.