Project 365 Day 160

Cage Girl

Not to be confused with basketball in any way. That would be way too athletic. Did you know that they used to call basketball players “cagers” because they actually played in a cage on the court...the cage was to keep the action away from the fans as well as keep the ball in-bounds for faster play. But, to be a cage girl when I was a sophmore in high school was to get out of PE. I hated PE. Hated may not be a strong enough word, but I can’t think of a stronger one right now. I had never been a fan of PE - gym class - call it what you want. They were all horrible. At this school, as a freshman, in PE we had to jog/walk several blocks to a baseball field in the spring. I was in a morning class - like second period. We would jog/walk - okay, walk - to this field on some streets that weren’t paved, they were more like compacted dirt. And the city would oil them. Let me tell you, the smell of that oil defied any description here. And then you would invariably smell someone cooking bacon - it was the morning! I am surprised I can even still eat bacon. Okay. Maybe not so surprised I still love bacon, what with all that fat and crispy deliciousness. I keep waiting to be watching TV some time and an ad will come on with some double attorney names (you know, like Smith and Smith, or Taylor and Taylor...etc.) and they’ll ask if you were ever exposed to oiled streets on the way to early morning baseball fields AND if the smell of bacon was added in you may now be suffering from...something decidedly horrible. But, when I was a cage girl all I had to do was remember half of the girls’ numbered baskets in the PE class. My friend and I would be in the cage, the PE Students would get their gym clothes from us (in their basket) and we would then keep their clothes/purses in their basket during gym class. I could remember all those numbers back then. And then during their gym class it would be my study hall. Except for the time that I had a really bad sunburn, and I sat there and popped all the little blisters through my pants, so when I left for my next class the thighs of my jeans were a little damp. Or the time I spent crawling around on the speckled white (and brown) tile floor because I had dropped my new contact lens (brown, of course). Now they are using those baskets in antique stores. And it’s got me thinking about..bacon.