| | Everyone's Talking About My Balls. Volleyballs that is!
I just sat here, staring at my armpit for the past 5
minutes, contemplating on what to type up for you Xanga folk. Now that you're picturing me stare at my armpit, I'll continue.
On
my way to school the other day, I stopped in front of a crosswalk where
a line of football players in full gear marched across the street.
Memories of high school, terrible lunches, and after-school activities
flooded through. Of all the memories (suppressed) that stood out, it was of those during
volleyball season. Yes, it's a pretty gay sport, but it was we did
before, after, and outside of games that made it that much more
exciting.
True Volleyball Stories of Anarchy
My Humps.
We
had an away game that should have taken us 20 minutes to get there. It
took us an hour and a half. I swear, our bus driver was more
incompetent than a one-legged ass-kicking contest. If I had handed him
a GPS, he would still have managed to of gotten us lost; somewhere
maybe in Mexico sound about right?
So there we were, all sitting
on the bus parked near a gas station, relaying messages between our
coach, bus driver, and someone who might have a clue how to get there.
That's when "Polish Pat" decided to liven things up. He waited for our
coach to turn his head away, and stood up, pulled his pants down and
pressed his bare buttcheeks against the window, facing traffic. With
everyone laughing, the coach turned around, in unison with the sudden
silence of laughter. Our coach was already on the verge of busting a
capillary, so further angering him would've been a sight.
That's
when an old lady shocked with her mouth agape, slowed down and stared
right at our bus. She ended up jotting down the bus's number and called
the school district. Polish Pat ended up with a suspension and
eventually kicked off the team.
Red Light
On
most long stops, we would pass the time with long chats with a friend.
But when things get extreme, we ensure absolute mayhem with a game of
"Red Light." The game is simple. You have a selected player stand at
the front of the bus. At the back of every school bus is a red light
above the rear-door exit. His aim is to try and touch that light. But
it's not that simple. There are other players sitting at the edges of
their seat trying to prevent you from reaching your goal. They can do
anything to prevent you from advancing, pulling, tripping, pinching,
punching, and placing their sweaty kneepads in your face. Some
memorable incidents include: a ripped shirt, a bloody nose, atomic
wedgies, farting, the coach tossing one of us into our seat for being
unruly. Fun times.
You'll shoot your eye out!
Practice
gets pretty boring. Routine, routine, repeat. But on one particular
day, things were spiced up a bit at the expense of one teammate. During
serving drills, we would have two teams, serving to each other, trying
not to hit the balls into the net. Then it happened, I smacked a ball
squarely into the face of an underclassman. He also wore glasses. He
started tearing (Yes, this is a high school student), and received
immediate attention from a nearby team member and coach. Then, like
something from America's Funniest Videos, another ball comes flying
though like a knockout punch, flying into the face of the same player.
BAM! He gets knocked back and starts tearing even more. Guilt lingered
throughout the gym for the rest of the day.
Argument of the giants
Games
and practice are very different, save for the concept and game rules.
During a particular game, the JV and Varsity coach sat next to each
other during a JV game. Of course, JV players should ultimately follow
directions from their respective coaching staff. But for some reason,
the Varsity coach started calling out plays and adjustments. That
seemed to tick off the JV coach who resembled Kent Clark. "Coach, would
you mind letting me do my work?" he blurted during a very silent gym
room. People just stared. "Sorry" the Varsity coach says
unenthusiastically. That just made the situation worse for weeks to
come.
Outside disturbance
This
sort of reminded me of the Ron Artest incident where fans started
storming the courts in an effort to sneak a cheap punch at the Pacers.
During a weekend tournament, the captain of my team, out of the blue
runs off the court and up the bleachers. "The hell are you doing?!"
Apparently, there was a man who was "harassing" the players mother. No
physical contact was seen, but my coach who used to be a bouncer and
bodyguard took the man outside and had a "nice and sweet" talk. Nothing
happened after that.
Royal Rumble
Hands-down, this was the creme de la crop of my volleyball
history. Nothing topped this, which is why I saved it for last. So if
you managed to read all the above and my words kept you entertained,
then you're in for a treat.
This incident happened during 11th grade. It had a tie-in with the "My Humps"story,
in which they both occurred on the same day, so you would expect
emotions and tempers to flare. We arrived fashionably late
and saw the home team packing things up. The coach insisted that we
play the game. So after a few minutes of talk, we got it going.
One match was set, we were down 1-0. We quickly switch sides of play,
and if you're not familiar with volleyball, we pass by the judge along
the way there. That's when things got ugly. Our co-captain had a few
choice words for his terrible calls, and issued a red card quicker than
Roseanne on chocolate cake. The red card, mixed with someone who has a
short-temper is never a pretty sight. He started cussing back, and
kicking balls. That's when the ref yelled, "THAT'S IT! GAME IS OVER!
YOUR TEAM IS DISQUALIFIED!"
"Bullsh*t!," My co-captain rebuttals. And with a quick turn, he tosses a
chair onto the court. Many of our teammates soon followed. One of my
teammates even took his sneakers off and tossed them into the air.
Cussing, yelling, kicking tables, spilled water coolers. The works.
Our team ended up with notoriety throughout the league. 4 players
were suspended, including our co-captain. All future refs who
overlooked our games took extra precaution with us and had evil
intentions throughout the season.
Still think volleyball is for girls? Think again.
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