COLUMN: Surviving among the fittest

From tom Nessinger's, "Inseparable My Nose and Thumb," Fall '96 From tom Nessinger's, "Inseparable My Nose and Thumb," Fall '96 Lately I've gotten involved in intramural sports. In a way, there's nothing more frightening than watching people -- some of whom are past their prime, others of whom never had a prime (that would be me) -- risking their old bones for dear Annenberg or Wharton or the School of Social Work. Yet the danger to life and limb isn't what dissuades many of my peers from coming out for the team. Most of us can relate to this phenomenon. Grade school and high school P.E. classes are overpopulated with "those who can, do/those who can't, teach/those who can't teach, teach gym"-type instructors. Usually, these are failed ex-college athletes who find teaching gym to be the only job for which they're qualified, the qualifications consisting largely of the ability to blow a whistle and stand around saying things like, "Okay, gimme five laps and then hit the showers," or "Awright, lissen up, people!" Classes typically are divided into two groups: the jocks, who are addressed by name; and the "lissen-up people," i.e., the rest of us. The goal of gym class, at least when I was growing up, was not to develop any skills, but merely to keep everybody running around until the bell rang. School P.E. is best exemplified by one particularly vicious little activity, the dreaded Dodgeball. Everybody's played this "game" in one of its forms (where I grew up it was given the colorful and ballistic appellation "Bombardment"). Dodgeball is to gym teachers what "Lady of Spain" is to accordion players -- the only thing they know. The class would be divided into two sides, a half-dozen or so balls would be tossed out, and the object was to throw a ball -- hard -- at someone on the other side. If the target caught the ball, you were out; if the target didn't, he was out. No strategy, no teamwork, no real rules. It was, basically, as an excuse for the jocks to inflict pain on some of the "lissen-up people" while the teacher caught up on his paperwork. Hard to believe it's not an Olympic event. My personal Dodgeball epiphany came my junior year of high school. I was hovering near the back, doing my famous impression of Just One of the Bleachers, when I was hit squarely in the head with an old, taped-up volleyball. I didn't even have time to duck (it's true -- you really don't hear the one with your name on it). What happened next is a source of some debate. Some believe that, recoiling from the impact, I hit my head on a metal scaffold behind me. Others think it was a piece of hard tape protruding from the ball that did the damage (although some have rejected this so-called "magic volleyball" theory). Whatever the cause, when I put my hand up to my head, it came back bloody. As I staggered off the floor, the teacher called to me, "You don't have to go off!" "Say what?" I slurred. "You don't have to leave. It's illegal to hit in the head. You can stay in!" Oh, great, I thought. It's not enough that I'm hemorrhaging with a possible concussion -- I get to go back and try for frequent-flyer points on the CAT scanner. Needless to say, I declined. After receiving seven stitches and possibly the only Purple Heart ever awarded for Dodgeball-related injuries, I was sufficiently disillusioned with the phys ed experience to duck out of gym my senior year. For most of us, P.E. didn't instill any love of sports or physical activity. It wasn't about having fun, it was about humiliation. The guiding philosophy seemed to be that sports are only fun when you excel at them. Otherwise, you're just a loser. And that's sad. I know a lot of people who run marathons, but I don't know anyone who's ever won one. I like to ride my bike, but don't expect to see me in the Tour de France. Most people who exercise do it not because they're necessarily good at it, but for the sheer pleasure of getting out and running around. Sure, you'd like to shave a few seconds off your time or try to reach other personal-fitness goals. But it's more enjoyable when you aren't under any external pressure to be a star. From my decidedly unscientific sample, it seems that the leading cause of physical inertia in this country is physical education. Maybe fixing that could be a goal of President Clinton's second term. I even have a suggestion that will create jobs: Hire people to stand next to all the gym teachers in the country and whack them upside the head with a tape-hardened volleyball every time they say "Lissen up, people!" I bet former students would line up for the privilege.