Due to the complexity of life and the lack of a divinatory wrinkle in the human brain, the proceedings of a day are uncertain. There are abilities that I can expect to use every day, such as walking, talking and giving the thumbs up. But one day I will confront something big that I cannot walk away from, that I cannot talk myself out of and against which the thumbs up will be useless. That is why I am learning to throw a ball with my non-dominant left arm.
This all started several weeks ago, and I can't quite remember how. All I know is that I started rocketing stress balls and hackey sacks as hard as I could against the living room wall with my roommate.
Our right arms quickly became sore, more than likely due to years of infrequent use, so we gripped the projectiles with our left hands and flung them weakly and awkwardly at the wall. Our aim was so inconsistent that we often hit the ceiling fan, the floor and the wrong wall. There could only be one natural charge: We had to practice.
Motivation and strategy developed immediately. We slowly rehearsed and studied the motions of our right-handed throws and began mirroring them. We created innovative forms of catch that involved ambidextrous throwing and catching, and when we threw at the living room wall, we aimed at the decorative wooden moose hanging from it.
The "moose throw" was an excellent exercise because we had to throw hard enough to ensure a wide arc and accurate enough to actually hit the thing. However, this technique came to a predictable end when the moose fell and its antler broke off (sorry Chris Wood - but don't worry, that sucker is resting in a vice in the basement, bandaged up with wood glue).
There was one strategy that was particularly involving, as it required my milk carton filled with mostly forgotten CDs. My high school years were spent twisting ankles doing simple skateboarding tricks and singing gutturally in a crappy punk band that evolved into a post-punk band, which later split up into a hardcore band with slightly different members. There was also the gushy influence of emo when it was in its heyday. Consequently, my milk carton of CDs is filled with very few gems.
My roommate knew the music and we both felt enough shame to start biffing balls at the albums. Against the living room wall, we propped up the Throwdown, NOFX, and Feeling Left Out CDs. Witholding no concerns for cracked plastic, we assailed the Living Sacrifice demo like Martin Sheen destroying Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now. We eliminated with extreme prejudice.
I've been practicing throwing with my left arm as if I am fighting against a right-handed bias that has always suggested to me that there is no other way to throw a ball. It's the same kind of bias that used to inform my taste in music. I don't want to keep walking, talking and giving the thumbs up without gazing into the deep blue sky, wondering what else I could do.
Write to Joseph atjwmchugh@bsu.edu
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