Sport

Merril chose the word from the dictionary.  The word her finger fell on was “sport.”  My first inclination was “easy peasy, I’m into sport.” But the more I thought about it, the harder it was.  It was a case of being spoiled for choice.
Like when I go to the supermarket.  It is all the choices that throw me.  I might just want breakfast cereal but there is a plethora of choices.  If just one was available, then that is the one I would choose, but so many can render me stuck to the spot.  Especially if I am buying spice.  The trouble with those bottles is they seem to last like ninety seven years. 
Perhaps they need to make supermarket shopping a sport called “Sports Shopping.”  Points would be awarded for speed and variety and feature speed and variety judges holding up cards.  My score would come from taking out the lowest and highest score in each category and getting the total of the remaining, divided by the number of judges (who would be sitting behind desks just outside the check outs.  Close circuit tv’s would enable them to monitor the contestants throughout the competition).
There would be normal rounds, then quarters and semi’s, and a crowd would be on hand for the finals between two shoppers.  T-shirts, streamers and flags would add to the atmosphere.  The starting line would be at the entrance of the shop and feature the two best shoppers behind their trolley.  They would be given the same general list prior to “on your Mark.  Go!”  The list would be like “breakfast cereal (1), lunch (4), snacks (2), dinner (4), fruit (5), veges (5).  Feeding (3).
Those a part of the sports shopping culture who belonged to clubs would know that the numbers next to the fruit and veges represented varieties, and that no short cuts could be taken.  Each variety would need to be put in its own bag (the close circuit tv’s would enable the judges to ensure there was no foul play if both contestants were at the fruit at the same time.  Besides, fowl was a meat section thing).
The judges would be made up of those who knew their stuff and previous champions.  One could even be a current Hall of Famer who won “sports shopping” an unprecedented four times in a row.  Their crash of 05 in the junior titles would just add to the legend.  Old footage would show they walked away, and the paramedics were not needed, and that the restacking of the shelves did not take long.  Books would be unanimous in stating the person learned from that experience.  Speed was not everything.  Both speed and variety were important.
The prize would be a cash amount and the opportunity to represent in the regionals.  Winners could go on to the state and national titles.   The best of the best would represent their country in the Olympics.  They would be easy to pick out as they would be the ones pushing their trolley around the stadium one handed while waving to the crowd with the rest of the team. 
Probably their mum and dad would have flown over and declared in interviews how proud they were of their offspring’s shopping prowess.  They would say how the endless hours of taking their child to shopping centres had been worth the cost.  If available, footage would reveal their child’s shopping talent on display from an early age.  They may have even been a shopping prodigy.
But sports shopping is not a sport.  Let me think…