Revealed: my dodgeball shame

LIKE many, I’m sure, who bravely lined out throughout the ages in white-soled sneakers and crotch-hugging shorts on a Saturday morning for Dodgeball, I allowed my mind to – but for a moment – wander from silly team names, funny costumes and the 5 D’s of sport: dodge, duck, dip, dive, and dodge.

Yes, for an instant, despite the quiver of spongy, vivid spheres arrowing about and upside my hungover head, it wanders, naturally enough, to Wordsworth.

“Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven!” he wrote of the French Revolution. However, I’m confident that had he come upon a host of Dodgeballs rather than daffodils in his time, than perhaps he may have poetically praised this noble sport as well.