One would have to know my oldest daughter to truly appreciate the intent of this blog; it is not to insult, belittle, or disparage, but to record, treasure, and have a great deal of amusement at the expense of my little athlete. If you view athletes as something of a personality as opposed to something of an honest to goodness machine that produces baskets, goals, and runs - you will find yourself in the right place. For my daughter is loaded with personality, you see. She is funny, smart, and about as girly as they come.
What the child lacks in skills of the motor variety, she makes up for in verve and panache.
The purpose of these entries will not be to highlight the verve, but rather to cohesively examine how the verve is so very intertwined with the clumsiness. The purpose is to come to a basic understanding of why I sit and watch my beautiful six year old daughter participate in sporting events of all varieties when I know, beyond all doubt, that her future in sports would be limited to being a line judge a Wimbledon as opposed to an actual threat on any court, field, or diamond.
I love her dearly, but her skills are and most likely always will be better suited to the skills needed by shoppers, ticketholders, and snack vendors. I say these things empirically, for they are undeniable. I say these things out of love.
And I say these things because my daughter is funny.
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