Made of FAIL.

Weeks ago the Moth Balls played a team called DUCK!. As you may recall, we beat them quite handedly and we were all encouraged with the progress we'd made as a team.

In that game I played fairly well. My throws were really humming, although my shoulder was beginning to ache. One of the girls on their team called out "I'm scared of your throws!" It was all quite gratifying.

This week would be very different: I sucked.

Epicly.

I was way too aggressive and something of a ball hog. A poor strategy given that we were playing at the surprisingly deep St. Luke's Gym and my arm has become a noodle thanks to playing two hours of dodgeball a week. At the same time, I was trying way too hard to get catches.

Although I had two very strong, dominant rounds I still reeked of effort. A strong athletic performance in any sport should seem comfortable, like second nature. Getting winded, wincing in pain, or just generally being awkward in any sport is a recipe for disaster. I was guilty of just working too hard and overplaying.

My poor play was compounded by the fact that no one on our team played well. We all had tough nights. We man-handled DUCK! six weeks ago, and they returned the favour and beat us 11-8.

Even Jellybean couldn't muster up much in the way of moral support. She had to admit that it had been the worst game she'd seen me play. Ever.

Oh well. Gotta put it behind me. Today's throw has no effect on tomorrow's.