Tuesday, November 25, 2008

2-Fer confession #2

I don't know what it is, but because of my last post, I've gotta say something here..

Recall that I don't like confrontation?

Well, because of the comment, I've gotta point out that if I'd GONE to the doctor, I'd have been regarded as being overly dramatic because of my cold..

Since I haven't gone, I'm being stubborn, and just plain silly.

How do I make the two work here? Where's the defining line?

I dunno..


I just love playing volleyball. Don't ask me why, I really couldn't tell you, I just enjoy it.

There's lots of activity, plenty of time to talk and have good conversation, and if you want to get competative, it's there for the taking as well.

I'm going to relate to you five of my favorite memories from playing, one that's quite recent, and others from my heyday of playing, which was about 4 years ago.

First, the most recent one.

I've just started playing again, and I've been trying to work the kinks and rust out of my game. I still have problems with my serve, because it's been so long since I've actually HIT a ball! My bumps are needing work, because I tend to skew them just a bit to the right, and my sets aren't all that bad, becuase I was quite a good setter.

This last weekend, my buddy came out to play, and we didn't have enough folks for full teams, but we decided to play guys against girls. This meant 5 girls, 3 guys. No problem, the guys would wipe the floor with them! (yeah, right!)

Anyway, we're into the middle of our second match, and I set the ball for my friend. Beautiful set. No spin, about a foot off the net, and right in stride for his jump.

The sun shines, angels sing, flowers bloom, the whole nine yards.. A true thing of beauty.

Then comes the magic moment. He winds up, gives a grunt of effort, and swings..


Wait.. That's not the end.

Yes, he did miss the ball with his striking hand.

However, he didn't miss it with his head.

Yup. Complete fan with the spike, but one grand headbutt to make David Beckham proud!

I tell you, it took me about 10 minutes to compose myself and be able to play again. Heck, just thinking about it makes my sides ache just a little..

Fond memory #2:

Back when I was voraciously playing volleyball, I was in a competative men's league. Three hits, blocks, traps, sets, fakes, the works! I loved playing this, because I learned so much about the strengths and weaknesses of tall guys, short guys, fat men, skinny ones, etc..

It was during this time that a friend and teammate of mine showed me "the serve". This monster could make the most hardened player pale with the speed and accuracy. I mean, he'd hit this thing, and you could hear the wind whistle past the ball as it headed for your body.

He taught this technique to me, and I've used it to good effect, but not as well as he has ever done. I know this for a fact, because he puts me to shame each time we get to play against each other!

Fond memory #3:

I recall when I used to be able to play for hours on end.

We'd start playing around with some pick-up games about 6:30 in the evening, and there were times I recall getting done about 11 or so that night.


I'm kind of glad that we only play for an hour or so! I don't think my aging body would stand much more, since I refuse to admit to myself that I can't play like I used to! (while writing this, I'm rubbing my knees and back, since I still insist on diving for those "questionable" balls!)

Fond memory #4:

I miss a couple of the folks I used to play with "back in the day". There was the Jokester, Mike, who had a way of playing hard, but still cause everyone to laugh like no tomorrow. I hope he's living his dream of being that stand-up comedian he always dreamed of.

Then there's Hep. The Cambodian nightmare who taught me how to play defense. The man stood about 6 foot, but only weighed about 150 pounds! He'd jump for a spike, and seemed to hang there for a few minutes looking for that perfect spot. It was amazing to watch. Well, that, and his defensive digging, when it looked like he was break dancing to get to a ball! He'd do "The Worm" move, put one hand down, the rest would serpentine behind his hands, and he'd be back up and moving before anyone could tell he'd been down to get a ball!

Good times, missed friends.

Fond memory #5:

I recall the last time our "gang" got together to play. Three were going off to college, Two had gotten new jobs, and one was getting "too old" to play anymore. We started the games like we always did, slow and easy, working up to the level we'd become comfortable at. Jokes were passed around, teasing about some plays were made, cheers for good effort was given, and a grand time was had by everyone. We then went out and had drinks and ice cream afterwards, and remembered the good times we'd had over the years.

I still think on those times, and while I'm now playing, I often wonder what they are all doing now.

You know, I should call a couple of them, and at least invite them out. You never know what might happen!

Have a great day, and have fun this Thanksgiving!!


gottaluvme3 said...


Dana said...

Well, whether you decide to go to the doctor or not, I do hope you feel better! A month is far too long to be feeling crappy.

I actually have the same internal dialog that you seem to be having in real life. Sometimes the doctor seems like such a luxury - the time off from work - the co-pay. And the day after I went to the doctor I'd be feeling better anyway just because that's the way my life is!