Childhood Sports Memories, Times Four

If you’ve taken a peek around the b5 Sports Channel within the last several days you might have noticed that there’s an awful lot of chit-chat about childhood sports memories.

Asking yours truly to select just “one” of anything is like asking which of our four cats we heart the most. (Yes, four cats.)

With that in mind, and since the be-furred, cuddly shedmasters are also serving as blog muses today, here are four childhood—uh, childhood loosely defined—sports memories. In chronological order:

• Watching Mary Lou Retton get her perfect 10s in the ‘84 Olympics. That was the be-all, end-all to a 7-year-old wannabe gymnast. I didn’t stick with gymnastics forever but I sure did enjoy wearing my MLR leotard until I outgrew it. (But not in that scary boy-in-Favre’s-jersey kind of way).
• I tore my ACL in a high school basketball game as a sophomore. Never played basketball (or soccer) for a team again, thanks to a lengthy time lapse between diagnosis, surgery, and recovery. I could note that watching your team go to the state finals twice while you nurse an injury is a character-builder, which it is, but that’s little consolation to a 15-year-old jock.  
• Playing tennis, a sport I didn’t pick up until I was 15, in high school. Turns out I had a great coach who worked with me closely after knee surgery to make sure I didn’t “lose my step.” It worked. My senior year the coach handed me the Unsung Hero trophy at a ceremeony and predicted I would have the winning match in our district finals for the title later that afternoon. I did. 
• Going to the 1996 Olympics. Why, as a spectator, of course! Reader Prospero put it all in motion and we had a blast–and saw Andre Agassi, Monica Seles, and Gabriela Sabatini play on Center Court. We also saw track and field events and some seriously impressive badminton (about 600 times faster than your average backyard play).

Well, I’d shared a fifth memory, but that would break my “four cats, four memories” theme. So until we get a fifth cat (and alas, we aren’t) . . . this will have to do!