By Rob Moysey
When this week rolled around, I knew it was time for my next tryout as sports editor. The two biggest fears most people have are of dying and public speaking. Not me. I’d take both over facing my worst nightmare — dancing.
Some people have two left feet. I’ve got two left clubfeet. I either look like I’m having a seizure or I’ve gone comatose.
Naturally I was distraught when my editor-in-chief insisted I try out for the dance pak. Her selling point was that it would be funny. Making a fool of myself at basketball tryouts is one thing; doing so in front of twenty-plus lovely women is another.
First thing I see when I walk into the studio are women doing splits. Is it wrong for me to say that I was both turned on and terrified?
I don’t hazard more than a polite smile. I’m afraid my voice will crack like a prepubescent boy about to go on his first date.
The limits of my flexibility are already tested in the 20-minute warm-up. Then come the splits. As my legs inch further apart, I feel like I’m on a medieval torture rack.
Finally, we move onto dance steps. As I un-contort myself, I notice a few women smiling at me. That’s a good sign. One even coaches me: “Arms up, arms up!” I sheepishly nod.
When the twirling drills come along, my simple male mind gets lost in the flurry of steps, spins, and pirouettes. I stumble over myself and it really starts to sink in just how talented these dancers are.
The dancers give me a round of applause anyway, and I do a little bow. I’m no dancer, but I put on quite the show.
Wish you could have been there? You can check out the video of my performance here. Try not to laugh too hard.