Writer’s Note- What the hell?? How did this not post? Well, scroll on back through Fat Girl Wunning, and refresh your memory of my career as a volleyball player. Then, come back, and read this final entry about my team.
I bet you all know where this is going.
Last Wednesday was our final night for summer volleyball, 2017. Somehow, my team made it to the playoffs. I mean, all we really had to do was be one of the top 10 out of twelve teams, but still. We made it.
Unfortunately, playoffs just happened to land on the worst day ever. Two of our best team members would be up in the air, on a plane, flying to Europe. Another one of our badass players would be vacationing with his family at a beach. So far, already no good. Add in that the week prior we lost all four games due to complete shit playing, and we had a recipe for failure, for playoffs.
It was best out of three. If you won, you moved on. If you lost, you were obviously out. Which mean, no trophy full of Harpoon beer, for you.
Games start at 6:30 pm. The league refs made a few announcements, and we were off to the courts. The games begin, and keeping right on par with the last few weeks of the season, we suck. Balls drop. Balls are being hit directly out of bounds. No one calls the ball, and bodies hit. It was a disaster. All we really could do, was laugh. I mean, I spent the time sideline coaching, and then freaking out on the court, but really what’s new?
Have I mentioned that the playoff games means a photographer is there to capture the teams, in all their glory? Yeah… First of all, no glory was happening with team Block Party. Secondly, while standing next to him while I was sideline coaching, I may have told him to walk away from me because otherwise he was going to go deaf, listening to me scream.
It’s amazing how even on the last night of the season, I still get flustered when I’m out of rotation, and then realize I have to go back in and serve. But here I was. It was my turn to serve, during the second game, and it really truly didn’t matter because we were obviously losing. All of a sudden I hear, ‘Look good for the photographer!’ and I ask, ‘Where is he?!?’
Right.Next.To.Me. Somehow I didn’t notice him. Anyways, I do my routine of digging my feet into the sand, relaxing my body, twirling the ball in my hand (all of this makes me look like I know what I’m doing), I swing my arm and I hit the ball over the net. I immediately turn to the photographer and say, ‘If it’s ugly, delete it!’. He promised it wasn’t ugly.
So let’s just fast forward. Not too far though… like fast forward to 6:55 (remember, the games started at 6:30). We’re out. We have lost two games. Miserable. We packed up our shit, and said our final good-byes to each other. Someone piped up and asked, ‘Anyone want to go for a beer?’ and the whole team responded the same way… groaning and sadly saying, ‘no…’.
Who would want to celebrate that kind of end to an otherwise decent season? Meh.
BTW- I’m so very thankful that Volleyball Season is over because now I can get a pedicure without the sand destroying it! #yayforlittlethings