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I used to play football when I was a little kid. Okay, let’s face it. I was never really a little kid. I was so big that I got to play football a whole year ahead of my friends. Our football league didn’t have an age limit, but it had a weight requirement. If you were heavy enough, you got to play. I was heavy enough at the age of eight.

The only problem was, by the time I turned ten I was too heavy. You had to weigh a certain amount to start playing, but if you weighed too much they made you stop. Not playing would be just fine with me. I would be happier sitting at home reading a book.

Dad was one of the team’s big sponsors and friends of the coach, so I figured I would let him down and that quitting wasn’t an option. I went, day after day, and week after week... until I was eleven and weighed more than two hundred pounds. I thought that would be the end of it, once and for all.

However, my coach came up with a bright idea to help me lose weight. The very next practice he presented me with a T-shirt made out of a black garbage bag. “Put it on,” he said, pointing out the holes for my head and arms. “Start running around the practice field.” “Koop going, Fireplug (消防栓),” other players would shout. “Fireplug” was the new name they gave me. Although no one ever explained it to me, I figured it had something to do with me being shaped like it.

Every day in practice, I had to run in that stupid garbage bag. My short fat legs weren’t exactly comfortable, and often I’d trip and fall. The other players would laugh. At that moment, I asked myself, “Why? Was I being punished for something? Wasn’t the running, sweating and pain enough?” I suddenly realized that I’d been knocking myself out for something I didn’t even want to do in the first place!

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It was then that I decided I wouldn’t play football anymore.

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Much to my surprise, my dad was on my side.

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