You all know how competitive I am. Maybe not as competitive as one Nicole Schulz Turnbull, who likes to tackle first basemen and pretty much anyone who’s going to tag her out, but competitive to all hell. And while in high school my sports were mainly volleyball and basketball, as an adult my passions have been turned toward a game of skill, poise and mental toughness. A gentleman’s game, if you will: Corn Hole.
For the past two years, I have taken the Eastern Long Island Corn Hole Title by ousting my entire family in two-on-two, single-elimination play. Taking. Them. Down. Yes, the competition has been steep. Not all the games have been easy. Last year I had to come from behind against Uncle Mike by sinking three holes-in-one in a row. In. A. Row. You can’t teach this kind of talent. However, this weekend, a player came to the field that had otherwise refrained from Corn Hole practices. Her name is Donna Turnbull. And she has now become my nemesis.
Out of nowhere, Aunt Donna decides she’s going to “try it out.” She couldn’t hit the board at first. Drawing people in to play against her. Then she starts sinking bean bags left and right, knocking the other team’s bags off the board, pretending to be all innocent. If I was a betting girl, I’d say she’s just been watching and calculating all these years, waiting to make her move. She hustled us. I’m sure of it.
And now I’m without my title. Defeated. I feel like Rocky. But like Rocky, I’m now in training. I will reclaim what’s rightfully mine. Even if I have to punch raw meat in a freezer to get back into fighting shape. Watch out Donna Turnbull. I’m comin’ for you. You can’t see me, but I’m doing this: