Wednesday, 16 March 2016

Cheerleading Horrors (Again)

I know it's been forever since I've written and my good reason is called: no internet.

For those of you living under a rock (or are like me, without internet) you may not have know that this past fall I got the job of CHEERLEADING COACH for the middle school here in town.
That's so up my alley!

Does anyone else think the phrase, "up my alley" sounds a bit crass? Or is this just the Anderson household? 
I mean "what the," 
yes, the two words "what the" 
are considered some pretty salty language around here.

So I'm coaching these girls, and bless their hearts, middle schoolers in general are just learning how to be people, you know? They're a different breed and I know any middle school teacher would agree.
I'm working with these students through the phase of 'I'm still a kid, but want to do mature things, but I still want to scream and yell and be uncoordinated and spazzy.'
But two of the four in those list work with cheerleading, so we've got a start.

The REAL reason I wrote today is that this all brings back memories of my high school cheerleading days.
I spent 3 years of my life as a varsity cheerleader and 2 of those as co-captain. But what sticks out in my mind of those times are the utterly most embarrassing moments of my life. I already shared with y'all the first of those times in an earlier post. So today I will share yet another Cheerleading Tales from the Crypt; so called that because these are the times I nearly DIED from embarrassment.

Fall, circa 1999, we cheered, helped out at, or attended ALL home sports events at our school--which is pretty cool, I think. This included football, volleyball, boys and girls golf, cross country, track, boys and girls basketball, tennis, wrestling, gymnastics, and boys and girls soccer.
Yeah our high school was awesome with all the sports offered.

We were cheering at a varsity boys soccer game. Our boys team was pretty awesome so they drew big crowds. The cheerleaders stood on the track between the grand stands and the soccer field.
This day we had decided to dress a little more casually wearing our athletic shorts and matching embroidered white polos. This was a fun outfit and one I decided to make more comfortable by wearing my shirt untucked.
Ok, the real reason for the untucked look is I looked like a lumberjack with a tucked in shirt. 
Or so I thought...I wish I was as skinny now as when I thought I was fat.


At the game we turned to face the crowd and began a cheer. This cheer had a "low V" arm formation to a clasp to a "high V" arm formation. As a cheerleader you are to execute your moves with precision, popping your arms into formation.
I did this.
I did it until my joints hurt.
I did this when I went from a clasp to a high V.
I did this with precision despite the fact that my right thumb got caught up in the tail of my hanging shirt.

Right thumb went up, with it went my shirt.
I'm in a high V formation holding my shirt up over my head.


I've relived that moment many times and for the life of me I can only say my brain went into standby mode.
I panicked.

Instead of lowering my arms I simply started jerking my arm, trying to untangle my confounded thumb.
This led to a billowing sail effect of my white polo shirt.

I'd never even been kissed and here I was acting like it was Mardi Gras flashing the grand stands.

After flapping my arm for a good 15 seconds, plenty of time to ensure everyone saw what the Good Lord gave me, I finally disentangled myself from the dang shirt and lowered my arms.

I then shakily took a look into the stands to see if anyone noticed
--you know the cheerleader flapping her shirt up showing the crowd her underthings--
and saw my sister.

And from the look on her face I knew, I KNEW,  I'd just made a very poignant impression on those in the stands that day.

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