Rudy

Ever seen the movie Rudy? It's the sports movie about the under-sized, under-skilled football player who overcomes adversity and eventually walks on the the Notre Dame football team in 1975. In the final home game of his senior season, Rudy gets a chance to get into the game and he sacks the quarterback. He is carried off the field. Everyone chants his name. He's a hero. Beautiful story, right?

It's because of over-achievers like Rudy that I can't go a week without being asked if I took my job as a manager as part of a ploy to get on to the team. Now, if you know me, just the idea of this is hysterical. To give you an idea of my skill level: I stand at 5'7'' with shoes on. In high school, I was more known for my glowing personality than my talent. As the starting point guard, I averaged more assists than points. I once ate a Snickers bar during a free throw. I often performed a choreographed dance to "Soulja Boy" during halftime of home games. Granted, I was heavily recruited by Loras College... (DIII, Dubuque, IA, Mascot: Duhawk?) But I'm also pretty sure my brother set up a fake email account, pretended to be my coach, and gave them my mailing address as a joke. Meanwhile, girls on the basketball team stand well over 6 feet tall. While I have multiple "Most Improved" awards and participation medals, they have multiple state championships and MVP trophies. They received legitimate scholarship offers from several DI schools. I think it's safe to say they take their basketball careers slightly more seriously than I do. So nowadays when people ask me if I plan to walk on to the team, I can only laugh and say "You've obviously never seen my jump shot." I am very content with sitting behind the bench rather than on it. But to be honest, I haven't completely ruled out the idea of trying out for the team...

I will join the team if all of the following conditions have been met:

1. It's the championship game.
2. The star of the team gets injured and I get to wear her jersey.
3. I take (and make) the game-winning shot.
4. Someone makes a movie about it titled "Remember the Manager".

Okay, okay. So realistically, this will probably never happen. But that doesn't stop my dad and I from joking that I will one day make the transition from manager to walk-on Division I basketball player. Usually brought up at family gatherings and dinner parties, it goes something like this:

Dad: (loudly) So, tell Grandma, when is the NCAA going to clear you to play?
Me: (loudly and proudly) Soon as I pass the drug test, Pops! *Fingers Crossed*
Mom: *shakes head, disapprovingly*

Reliable for a few laughs here and there, it's a good way to remind people that I in fact have absolutely no desire to play college basketball (not like I have a choice, I don't think college basketball wants me either). I value my sanity, my freedom to eat desserts, and my Saturday nights/Sunday mornings way too much to give them up. Sure, it would be cool to say that I played college basketball. But there are over 3,000 female college basketball players in the NCAA and only a few hundred college basketball managers. It should technically be cooler and more impressive to say I'm a manager, right? (Don't worry. I know it's not. I'm just saying it should be.) So for now, I think I'll stick with trying to find dates instead of lifting weights... At least until Warner Bros and I work out the movie rights.