High School Volleyball

The gym smells differently. It doesn’t smell good. It smells like there are ten guys sweating up and down and on the basketball court, except there are twelve girls on the volleyball court. The shrieks and cheers bring me instantly back to that awkward time, high school. Can I really only be five and a half years removed from going to these games as a student and jumping along to those awful cheers? I am embarrassed at the thought.

Girls’ high school volleyball hasn’t changed at all. Not one of them on the court believes in their team’s destiny. One team wins the first game, but then loses the next three and the match. Robotic claps and cheers do little to the girls once they have settled on the loss. It is aggravating to witness. There is no fight in them and way too much emotion. In all high school athletics this is true. Nevertheless, the volleyball match was agonizing. I wanted to go down there and play myself. Sure, most people would flee for their lives from the gym once I had wiggled into some spandex, but it can’t be worse than that cheerleader over there yelling, “Jump. Shake your booty. Jump. Jump. Shake your booty.” No. Please, stop. I enjoyed my dinner. I don’t want to lose it on the next guy.

At this level a common occurrence is to see the better team lose. Fort Collins should have beat Loveland tonight, but as soon as they lost the second game the splinter was in there for the next two. They don’t fully believe in their ability at this stage. This becomes less of an excuse as athletes compete at more competitive levels, i.e. college, or the pros. Once you make it there you have left behind so many people that, initially were by your side, you know you have some special petrol that makes you go longer and harder than they could. But everyone has a finish line. I crossed mine in February of 2005. I visit and revisit that race when I run, swim, compete, and even when I go to a girls’ high school volleyball game.

The stands provide uncomfortable seating. The backless, hard benches weren’t made with ergonomics in mind. How do I say this without sounding arrogant? I don’t. I am uncomfortable because I can go down to that court and do a better job, but I have to watch these athletes collapse in defeat before the match is half over.