One of the things I hate about going to health clubs is these guys that put a towel on one bench, a water bottle on another and then maybe place their keys someplace else marking their territory so no one else can use the stuff. After they so lay claim to all this equipment, what do they do? They stand someplace else complaining to another athlete about how they strained their shoulders from pressing too much weight the day before. Then, while rubbing their elbows and scratching their bellies, they compare notes on what electrolyte they drink what muscle groups they plan to work on that day. Is that the reason why America is obese–Athletes unwilling to share the equipment?
So anyway, there I am at the health club. I wear my Oregon State t-shirt, got my OSU Beaver team mascot water bottle, and my OSU towel. I’m searching for a therapy ball that doesn’t have a towel on it, or a water bottle leaning against it or is otherwise marked or in use. Believe me, I’m about ready to buy one of those home gym specials for only three payments of $29.99 plus S&H.
Fortunately for my three year membership contract, I find a semi-deflated therapy ball. I do my 15 reps or repetitions. But at rep 5 who should show up but Leroy. A big man with hairy biceps, dragging his knuckles on the ground, Leroy looks down at me, taps my ball with his foot. He says “Dat’s my ball.”
What do you think, fellow athletes? Is it his ball? Is Leroy going to share? Is he running into the equipment shortage too?
No way was it his ball. “Look,” I tell Leroy, continuing my reps. “It’s gym property. Get your own ball. I got six more reps with this one.”
You won’t believe this, but Leroy grabbed the ball out from under me on rep 13 of 15.
“Hey,” I said. “Watch it, big man. Where do you think you are? Can’t you see we’re all in this together, for the sake of health and longevity?”
“Huh?” Leroy says.
I take this to mean he didn’t hear me. So I tell him loud and clear. “I said you’re a big man with a big mouth. I got two more reps coming to me. Give me back my ball.”
He frowned at me and walked away with the ball. Believe you and me, I decided right then and there, I would not give him the time of day! Which was all very well and fine, except on my way back to the locker room, who should be blocking my way, but Leroy.
When I attempt to step around him, he pushes me against the wall. He says, “Hey, about what happened over there, I’m sorry for my behavior.”
Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.
He points at my t-shirt. He says “You see I’m University of Oregon and when we Ducks see beaver tack we get swamp fever.” <<Editors note: Oregon and Oregon State share an intense local rivalry>>.
We shake hands. We’re reconciled. It’s no longer a confrontation; it’s a college prank.
The next time I go to the gym, I don’t wear my OSU tee shirt, I don’t bring my OSU water bottle. Lo and behold, the equipment is much more open! Guess my clothes colored the way the gym looked to me!