Being picked last in school sports has lifelong impact

Letter from Helgard Meyer: Oh, how I can relate to your remarks you wrote on Wednesday July 22, in your “Choosing Teams To Play Sports” column. I read them over the weekend and they really hit home. It made me remember how it was when I grew up.

Now, I am not some young kid but instead am a 76-year-old lady who still remembers the humiliation of always being picked last. You perfectly put into words how it affects a person with your story about playing Pictionary.

I grew up and went to grade and high school in what was then West Germany. In high school, the girls played softball or competed in groups in all kinds of athletic competitions, such as pole climbing (I never got more than five feet off the ground), rope pulling (I was not very strong), parallel bars (my wrists would not support my arms) and other equally humiliating endeavors.

The other problem was that I was very slight and not very tall, which was due to the fact that after World War II, my family, who were refugees from East Prussia, starved in the post-war years. We had lost everything and did not have the resources to buy or trade for food on the black market.

Plus, the ration stamps we were given were only enough for a 900-calorie diet, and even then, they often could not be redeemed because the food was not available. The local people had many more resources and connections and did not suffer the way the refugees did.

So anytime sports teams were set up, there were captains who were appointed by the teacher. They were always athletic and never the mediocre or “bad” athletes. The captains then picked the teams and you know how that went.

Of course, I was always the last one picked and a liability to the team, as far as my teammates was concerned. Even though I never let it show, it hurt deeply each time it happened.

It stayed with me a long time but, luckily, I did get over it and, I am sure to the surprise of the athletic teacher, I have led a wonderfully successful life here in the U.S.

How did I get here? I met a handsome American Air Force soldier. I was 19 years old then. Next week we will be married 56 years.

Thank you for writing that column, as it gave me new perspective. Now when I look back, I realize it really did not matter in the long run.

Tom’s response: Thank you, Helgard, for telling your story. What an incredible journey you have had! Each time I hear another story about choosing teams in this way, I can see the looks on the faces of the kids who get chosen last. What a horrible feeling.

I saw it happen again just recently when some kids were choosing sides for a game.

The look in the eyes of the one who was picked last screamed out, “I don’t have any friends. Nobody likes me!”

Not only did this boy feel inadequate as an athlete, but in his heart, he also received the message that he was “friendless.”

And to think this happens all over the world…Thank you for the happy ending to your story. These wounds still affect us, but to hear the redemption in it is good for us all.

Questions or comments for Tom Kuyper? E-mail him at: tomkuyper@kidsandsports.com.