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Admit it, you're old
May. 7th, 2018 11:16 pmThe core four members of my volleyball team* has been together for almost 14 years now. Once upon a time, we were the team to beat. We played in the advanced league where the BVA club team spent their off season and we held our own. No, we weren't the big hitters of the league but we played well together, we were scrappy and dammit, we could aim. I have half a dozen "champion' shirts from our years together.
All that started to go down hill a few years ago. Chris, our big hitter, got into a car on bicycle accident that ended with his right calf flayed open like a trout**. I broke my back in multiple places, didn't play for a year while I learned to walk again and came back stiff & slow. Josh tore his rotator cuff and now sticks to setting
Slowly & surely, our seasonal rank crept downward from the top 3 to the middle of the rank to being glad when we weren't last. It wasn't that we were declining quicker than the other teams, it was that the other teams kept getting younger & younger. Seriously, the one team is made up of a bunch of 20 year olds who all went to nationals last year. Our oldest teammate, Dave, is 67 and has both knees replaced. To say we're outclassed is an understatement.
The league organizer politely pointed out that the Monday intermediate league had an opening and we knew a number of the teams down there and we might enjoy playing with our old adversaries. So we moved down.
Best thing we've done in 5 years.
Last night of season play was tonight. We're #2 in the ranking, only a game behind the #1 team (who moved down 2 year ago) and we're playing "UP" again. We're no longer slogging through, focused and tense and just trying to find the opening that will let a hard cut hit the line. We're joking, we're harassing each other and the other teams and we're willing to sacrifice a few points to work out the timing on 1s that we normally don't run (I got three shoots tonight, hell yeah!)
Next week we have playoffs and it's even bets if its us or Kelly's Roast Beef (the #1 team) but dammit, we're playing as a team again.
* Team name - Face Biting Octopus, FBO on the boards. At this point, I don't remember where the name came from but if you see FBO in New England, that's us.
** Chris was on the bike and the accident involved a guide wire holding up a telephone pole. He sent us all pictures from the emergency room. I almost puked.
All that started to go down hill a few years ago. Chris, our big hitter, got into a car on bicycle accident that ended with his right calf flayed open like a trout**. I broke my back in multiple places, didn't play for a year while I learned to walk again and came back stiff & slow. Josh tore his rotator cuff and now sticks to setting
Slowly & surely, our seasonal rank crept downward from the top 3 to the middle of the rank to being glad when we weren't last. It wasn't that we were declining quicker than the other teams, it was that the other teams kept getting younger & younger. Seriously, the one team is made up of a bunch of 20 year olds who all went to nationals last year. Our oldest teammate, Dave, is 67 and has both knees replaced. To say we're outclassed is an understatement.
The league organizer politely pointed out that the Monday intermediate league had an opening and we knew a number of the teams down there and we might enjoy playing with our old adversaries. So we moved down.
Best thing we've done in 5 years.
Last night of season play was tonight. We're #2 in the ranking, only a game behind the #1 team (who moved down 2 year ago) and we're playing "UP" again. We're no longer slogging through, focused and tense and just trying to find the opening that will let a hard cut hit the line. We're joking, we're harassing each other and the other teams and we're willing to sacrifice a few points to work out the timing on 1s that we normally don't run (I got three shoots tonight, hell yeah!)
Next week we have playoffs and it's even bets if its us or Kelly's Roast Beef (the #1 team) but dammit, we're playing as a team again.
* Team name - Face Biting Octopus, FBO on the boards. At this point, I don't remember where the name came from but if you see FBO in New England, that's us.
** Chris was on the bike and the accident involved a guide wire holding up a telephone pole. He sent us all pictures from the emergency room. I almost puked.
