I developed a bit of an inferiority feeling when I was about 10. My mom, RIP, dressed me up as a little business man, suit tie, I learned to be great at shining shoes and tying a noose around my neck, by age 4.
But my fellow gang members were out in the field running around. I was sitting on my ass all day Sunday being praised for being quiet, as I was informed how great things will be for me when I die, and I should feel good when someone I love dies, because we have faith.
Thing was , faith did not help me in a hockey game. Faith did not teach me to swing a bat as well as other gang members my age who put in one more day a week than I did. I was falling behind.
Practice is God. I had a revelation, ditched the suit and hit the field on Sunday. Sorry mom, but you know, you can’t please everyone. I think I have several billion years to be dead, not so many days to catch up with the gang at sports. Miss a day a week, and you are a cute loser in a suit. Ready to be buried.