When I was a freshman, gym was the favorite class for fit 14-year-olds, but was an embarrassing anathema for me, the fat kid. Three-man basketball was even less enjoyable, because the rest of the class would urge the best player on my team to give me the ball, anticipating a truly hilarious flub.

My senior year, the fat gone, I was in shaky possession of the last spot on the varsity basketball team. The former star of the 14-year-olds noticed that I was a varsity player and figured that he would try out for the team.

The coach divided us up for a simple drill: dribble up the court and play defense on the way back. He teamed me against my old gym friend!

I embarked east and dribbled successfully to the end of the court. My buddy then began his assault to the west. He made it about 15 feet and lost the ball. Yes, I had relieved him of it.

My friend’s eyes bulged.

Turnabout is fair play, I thought, as he promptly quit.

William Mezger,

Lynnwood, Wash.

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