Every year on my birthday, my parents used to stock me up with sports equipment.  One year, I got a bat, baseball, a mitt, a cap, and even a catcher’s facemask and vest.  Another year I got a basketball, a basket, and some of that powder you rub onto the ball so you can get a better grip.  Yet another year it was golf aids.  I got a club, a bag of golf balls, a bag to carry it all in, a golfing glove, and even a tee.  Finally, last year, I got a football, helmet, and the rest of the equipment.  Finally, I had to march up to my parents and ask them why they continually kept buying me golf aids, pads, and other sporting goods when I had never been any good at any sport.  If you can’t throw well, they say you throw like a girl.  Well, a girl can throw harder and farther than I can.  I get winded walking up the front stairs to our houses.  I’m that guy that actually gets C’s in gym class at school because I just can’t keep up with everyone else.  I’ve never joined a sports team nor tried out since I never saw a point, but my parents were always pushing me, saying I’d make friends and get into shape and all that.