I'm thinking the one thing that kept my life from being the typical Aspie-story, with constant terrible failures, is the fact that I am a little sister. And not only that, but my sister is only one and a half years my senior. Like that we did everything together.

Our theory is that our mother was Aspie too.
One reason being that she never took us anywhere.
Like that my sister was in charge of me.
And that worked really very well.
Our father worked as janitor in an elementary school, where we also lived. That was great growing up, with our own playground, gym hall, and many more pluses. One of which was that there were several different sport classes going on in the afternoon. All it took was our father letting the instructor know that we would come over, and that was it.
Like that  my sister took me to the mother-and-child-exercises, when we grew out of that to the regular gymnastics,  and from there we upgraded to the artistic gymnastics. We dabbled a bit in handball, because the instructor had asked our Dad if we wouldn't be interested. Well, we weren't all too much.
      I must say, we did all that with different success rates. My sister was really gifted in the artistic gymnastics, and trained to go to compete in tournaments, while I mostly took part in the tournaments as a "ticket" girl. The girls who had to run to the referee people with the points some other referee had given.
But I had that awesome red unitard. Red was our club's color.
Well, my sister fractured her elbow while training for a competition, and that was the end to that career.
For a little while we joined a ballet group, because again our father was asked if we felt like it, and so get a group going, but that was really just an intermezzo.
Both my sister and I never were much for the girl-things.
The only notable success I think I ever had in all those ventures was, that our ballet instructor praised my ability to "jump like a spring".
But looking back, I am so glad that we did all that. That was the reason why I never was the clumsy nerd in school, who never got selected into the teams.
Plus of course I had that great unitard to wear in school sports. That was a huge exception back in the mid seventies. Especially in Waldorf school, where no great value was placed on "Leibesertüchtigung", meaning sports so to say.
But also because there was no great value placed on sports, my pretty unitard and all didn't do anything in giving me a standing really, until about around sixth grade. By the time of which I wasn't wearing the unitard anymore I want to point out. That was the beginning of the eighties, and I wore my sweats with great pride.)
But all in all I was considered the sporting ace of my class.
Despite my inability to score any good in the official track and field competition.
Well, I could throw those little leather balls farther than most of the other girls, and even some boys. But running....  No chance in that department. And it even was worse when we had to professionally crouch-start. I needed about as long to get to m feet, as most of the others needed for half the track.
What I was really good for was shot-putting, javelin, and discus.
And what I really was great at was swimming. Or rather diving. One year I was best out of the whole school, because I dived some fifty meters non-stop.
I had to, because I never quite managed to crawl, and do the proper breathing trick every couple strokes. So I just simply learned to go on, and on, and on, until my head hit something hard.
Plus I really loved diving. I often spent time just sitting on the ground of a pool, dreaming, and feeling utterly secure. It was great, because nobody could disturb me there.

I think a short while after I had started school, my sister and I tried handball again.
And this time it was perfect.
We both loved it, and it remained our passion until we were grown up.
But while my sister excelled again, and made herself a widely known pivot, I was at certain odds again.
One reason was that I could only be for one year with my sister. Then she had to go on into the next age group.
    In handball it is so, at least in childrens teams, that the more gifted players play the center, and the lesser gifted ones get placed on the outer positions.
So, I usually played on the outer, or the half-outer position.
My job was to catch the ball, and then pass it back quickest possible. I don't think I ever attempted to shoot at the goal.
Well, it wasn't long that our opponents had me figured out. I was absolutely set on passing the ball back to the player next to me. If that wasn't possible, I froze up completely, unable to decide what to do with the ball now. Really. I just stood, my heart beating up into my throat. So more often than not my opponent just simply plucked the ball from my outstretched hand, and ran a quick counter, more often than not ending in a goal for the opponent team.
That process actually got refined into a strategy all throughout or opponents. They got instructions to just block my neighbor, and then just simply take the ball from me.
But before my team could get really frustrated, I got lucky. Our goalkeeper was ill one day, and we had no substitute. So on a hunch our trainer tossed me the jersey, and declared I had to do it.
Her thinking was that I was most dispensable field player. But it turned out that I was even better than our regular goalie. Even without any proper training.
So, I stayed in the goal.
I'm not saying I was exceptionally great. My biggest problem being that I never quite understood the details of the game. But my advantage was that I could concentrate completely on just the ball. I was never distracted by any of the nifty tricks that get played to distract the opponents, because I never saw the tricks. I had no idea what was going on, except that somebody soon would attempt to get the ball past me into my goal. And I was quite good at thwarting those plans.
I worked best in penalty situations.
When the opponent got a free shot from seven meters distance.
My reflexes are not outstanding. But I was unbeatable at figuring out the player who shot.
No matter all strategies, at one point they have to look into the direction where they want to shoot at. And since I had figured that out before, I had enough time getting there.
One match we won, because I had defended all four penalty shots.
But that gets easier as the numbers go up. Once one has a reputation for keeping those feared penalties, the shooters start getting nervous.
    So, again like in school, I had my own little niche, in which I felt safe, and could at times shine.
Really, the greatest thing about being a goalie in handball, as opposed to football (soccer), is that everybody has to stay seven meters away.