Last to be picked

When I was in school, my best friend and I always knew who would be chosen last for team membership in gym class. Without fail, he was second to last to be picked, and I was last. We were at the bottom of the list of students expected to do well on the field, and never got to play on the same team.

Actually, I need to provide a correction to a statement above. My friend was the last to be chosen. After a team captain called out his name, and I was the last kid standing, the two teams just turned around and headed out to the field. After all, it was assumed I was on the other team, right? They didn't even give me the dignity of calling my name.

Many times I was tempted to just return to the locker room.

"Hey! Where're you going?" the Gym Teacher would've called.

"To the lockers."

"Get back onto the field and join your team," he'd've shouted.

"I have no team. Nobody picked me."

That's what I imagined would have happened. Instead, I trailed my "team" onto the field and tried my best.

I never forgot that.