Play with the Girls

For about a month now I've been enrolled in a beach volleyball class through a local community college. Now anybody who knows me and my body type might think I'm built for volleyball, and maybe the creator who designed my body, with some help from my genetic brethren the Vikings and Slavs - both notoriously hearty and physical people, had something like volleyball in mind when I was designed. Though my body type was probably originally used for fighting, invading and wielding a sword against the Romans since the average Roman back in 200 BC, was 5'2", and the average Viking was about 6'2" (Viking females averaged around 5'8" back then - my height).

But anyway. I'm sort of built for this type of thing. No sword required.

But I'm rusty. The last time I played volleyball in any sort of organized fashion was court volleyball in junior high, back in 1991. To give a little perspective, in 1991 we were heavy into Desert Storm (thanks Bush, Sr.), the average home price was 120k, and this new thing called the internet was made commercially available and 1 million computers went on line. (Apparently no one knows for sure how many are currently on line, but estimates are in the 4 billion+ range.) So, we've come full circle. Both me and my volleyball playing, our country and the desert-wars (where's all the oil again?), and, of course, the internet going commercial and me entering the blogosphere.

But thanks to my heritage, my early 90s playing experience, and my father, who coached virtually every sport but most notably football, and also taught physical fitness for 36 years in public schools,  I started the semester with a little skill. There were other people with more experience, but I was a solid intermediate player.

But on the very first day of class, our volleyball teacher, aka "coach," separated us into groups to practice a hitting drill involving hitting the ball over the net, retrieving balls and tossing to have the ball set-up to us. Basically, it was a rotation to get us all in the rhythm of playing volleyball. Well. He put me with "The Girls."

The. Girls.

Now, I love women. I love my girlfriends, and as I've grown older have realized the value of good, quality girlfriends. But I also was a coach's daughter. And I've also been "one of the guys" quite a bit in my life.

I have to admit, it bugged me that the coach put me with the girls.

Mostly, it wasn't that I was so much better than the girls, it was that the coach assumed all the girls should be together. It was also that I took to the drill a little faster than some of the other girls.

But I left class that day bugged and, honestly, laughing at myself for being bugged.

Fast forward to 6 weeks later. Today.

I like playing with the girls. In fact, I prefer it.

The inexperienced girls have improved a lot. The experienced girls have improved to the point where they can hold their own with some of the much more experienced guys. Also, the girls are more fun. They don't take the game as seriously as some of the more experienced guys. It's also worth noting that some of the guys are worse than the girl players. It's also worth noting that of the guys enrolled in class, at least half of them have beach volleyball playing experience. Where that's true of maybe 20% of the girls. So all things being equal, I'm having fun playing with the girls.

Side-note. There was a time in my life where I was "one of the guys" for an entire summer. Virtually every day I hung out with these 3-4 guys and we would go to the beach where I was life-guarding, or get food, or play taboo at one of our houses into the wee hours of the morning. For some reason, we just liked playing taboo. Though they came to regard me as a little sister and I never dated any of these guys, they did grow fond of referring to my breasts as "the girls." Don't ask me why. I suppose since I was the only one with boobs, they wanted to name them something special. So every time I write, "play with the girls," I can't help thinking of that summer (I believe it was '96) and how much fun we had doing what essentially amounted to nothing but hanging out. We really should've been playing beach volleyball...

But back to current day volleyball class.

This letting go of my stigma against playing with the girls has yielded some unforeseen side-effects. Firstly, I've mostly let go of being competitive. And I have to say, I like it. I don't care who wins. I don't care if my teammates screw up. I'm just there to learn, get better, and have fun. I've also made some friends. My favorite friend from class is a girl who squeals whenever the ball comes to her when she's not ready. It's great. (Imagine an ascending tone that goes "Whoo-ooo-whoo!") It's like we have our own alarm signal telling us: Pay attention. It's time to play. and Balls will be coming at you now. (Innuendo intended.)


She's getting quite good, actually. We might practice together and I suspect we might go pick up games once class is over.

By the way, I told my dad about this "playing with the girls" thing and he thought it was hilarious. He told me I didn't need to be so competitive. I told him, now you tell me. He was not only extremely competitive, he loved competition. As a kid I used to play one-on-one basketball with him, and this is when I was a full foot shorter than him, he'd hold my head with one hand, then dribble and shoot with the other, just to mess with me.

So I've come a long way.

Play with the girls.

And squeal if the ball comes to you when you're not expecting it. Trust me, it makes the game more fun.



 

More Interesting Katie Strand World Posts

• If I were a Ninja, I'd wear these shoes
• How my friend Sally became the new First Lady
• My Boyfriend has Autism...Maybe
• Raw Primal Papaya Custard - The Nectar of the Gods
  
• And All the Cows Said Moo!
• If you were John Mayer, you would too
• Tiredness - Varieties of and unforeseen side-effects
• Foreplay is overrated
• Food should be As God Intended or Why isn't everything we eat organic?
  
• Yelling - One of the Highest Forms of Compassion
  
• The Cove - Louie Psihoyos' Oscar speech & a guide on how to create change...
• My Favorite Things...Arrabiata Recipe - Fresh, Organic, Vegan or Primal
  
• My Favorite Shows on Television...or how David Duchovney & Jesus are likely Good in Bed
  
• The Hawaiian Islands and Washington D.C.’s sand-paper circle-jerk about Health Care
  
• My Buddha has Termites...A Lesson in Infinite Joy
• The One-Date-Wonders!
• I had to learn SIGN LANGUAGE when I moved to Los Angeles
• Guys can make a game out of anything
• Hello? The power of CONNECTING and how technology has changed things
  
• Popping the question is better than porn!
• Bravo, Stephen Colbert & Co! and your Olympic Vancouverage
• Songwriting is like SEX
• Born To Run by Christopher McDougall - Inspiring a inspiring all of us to be more in the FLOW
• A moment of silence for all the plastic surgery ca...
• Ricky Gervais should be the new Simon on American Idol
• Muscle SURPRISE! The key to physical, mental & emotional fitness
• I think my boyfriend's a snake...
• Release... Sweat & Power
• MY FAVORITE THINGS! - Vibram's Five Fingers
• Dick Morris... How do you sleep at night?
• Rusty DePass, Gorillas, and Obama, oh my!
• Michael Jackson - Troubled Genius

New Music
&
Posts
at
Katie Strand Music

• Please Don't Leave Me
• Going To California
  
• Come Back
• Home