Monday, June 28, 2010


Me during lunch. I'm about to go suck on my exhaust pipe.

Since I was 18, I've been working lacrosse camps. Camps are interesting places. No matter where I run a camp the scene is always the same. First, you have one optimistic camp director, who has forgotten that by lunch they are going to be ready to slam their head into a car door. (That would be me.) Secondly, you have about four kids, who actually show some promise, and by the second day, you aren't even trying to hide the fact that they are your favorites.

And lastly, no matter what camp I'm at, there's always one kid who stands out so much I am forced to give them the nickname "Superstar." Now, before you think I'm a master motivator, let me explain what is required to receive the title of "Superstar." First, you have to have an incredibly delusional parent, who is dressed in some type of lacrosse gear, for no apparent reason, and who wants to talk to you about the recent National Championship game you never saw. Secondly, you have to be completely "geared out." I mean, you have to have the most expensive stick, the cleats and eye gear have to be top of the line and a freshly molded mouthguard must be already in your mouth. Thirdly, you must, and this is very important, march to your own drum. In other words, no matter what I say, keep throwing like a one-armed shot putter and disregard, under all circumstances, any type of correction. And lastly, you must display, at least once during the camp, a very awkward breakdown of emotion. If you can accomplish these things then you will be named the camp "Superstar."

Last week I coached a camp in La Canada. The Superstar of this camp was a dynamic winner. What pushed her out in front of all the other candidates? Well, she really nailed the #4 criteria. During a water balloon fight (I'll discuss tomorrow how utterly ridiculous this camp was) I saw her carrying a water balloon. I figured she, like everyone else, was holding onto the balloon so she could get me wet, so I exploded the balloon in her hands. As I was doing this she started screaming, "I want to take this home!" (That would be the balloon. The balloon of water.) As I went to apologize for the explosion of water into her stomach, she picked up what was left of her balloon and threw it in my face (yes, it did hit my face) and started to cry. (Over the balloon. The balloon of water.) And that was it. That was when she became...Superstar.

Did I mention I have no idea why I do these camps?

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