Lead with sounds….Whish! Plump!
Thud! As each volleyball rolled
in the sand in front of me, the other team won points and now they were taking
the lead in a tight match all because of my mistakes.
Notice I now move to a quote
to add to my lead “Shake
it off partner! You can do this! Don’t be afraid to move up on that ball and
let it reflect off those strong arms of yours” offered Matt, doing his best to
convey positive thoughts to me with positive facial expressions, even though
his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. Another serve that I
was prepared to return seemingly dived into the sand just in front of me and my
three person team was on the verge of losing because of me.
Setting and description of event It was early April, and Matt had just opened his new beach volleyball court tucked away in the woods behind his house. Matt and his friends had been playing volleyball throughout the winter in local gyms across the Greater Hartford area, and I had not touched a ball since last September before the leaves and cold started to overtake the packed sand he had trucked onto the backyard of his dreams. Clearly I was rusty, unprepared to face the enormous volleyball talent his friends so wickedly possessed. Thoughts taking reader inside the head of the character I worried I didn’t belong in this game, that I was going to ruin it for everybody. It was like they were volleyball genies, whose serves came in like airplanes (simile) and whose spikes hit the ground with the force of weighted hammers (metaphor). My last mistake made me feel helpless, (simile) like a plastic bag drifting through the wind, unable to respond with any force to the balls that were purposely being hit to me by the other team in an effort to win an easy game.
Slowing the plot down. Not
rushing from event to event. I asked for a quick time out and took
a quick swig of my Orange Gatorade, followed by my traditional gulp of iced
water in an attempt to balance out the loads of sugar and chemicals found in
sports drinks. Just then I had the idea to free myself of my
sweaty t-shirt that was limiting my movement without being noticed, but the
combination of new sweat with sand made the shirt heavy and inflexible. It became stuck around my neck, and as I was
unable to retrieve my left arm from it, I heard laughter from the court. “Quit trying to delay your loss!” Joked the
other team as my face turned redder than my hair.
Back
to event “Show off!” Matt ridiculed. “Now remember what I said! Attack that ball and absorb its impact when
it reaches those arms,” he calmly whispered to me as I stepped back onto the
court.
Meanwhile, we were losing 20-19 in a game that
went to 21. One more point and they
would be victorious all because of me.
It was their serve. Before I knew it, the ball
was served, and it appeared to be heading toward Matt. Suddenly, it curved and was headed for my part of the court. “You got it Andy…easy does it. ..pass it here
to me!” I always marveled at how Matt
was able to slow things down in the midst of battle, able to direct the flow of
traffic in worlds running at 275 miles per hour. So often in my life I had shied away from
this type of competition, not wanting to fail or be embarrassed.
Flashback Earlier in the day, Matt had called me on my cell phone while I was reading the newspaper and eating my lunch, asking me to come play. “You have plenty of people you can call and play with those guys,” I protested.
“Yes, but
none of them are as funny as you and besides, we will hang out. It will be fun, you will see, “ he
insisted.
And in the blink of an eye, there I was, about to either win or lose the game
for his team. “Easy does it,” I reminded
myself as the ball began to move off the path I had projected. I could have given up. “What will they say to
me if I mess this up again, “ I worried to myself. In an instant, as if some superhero powers took over me, I
pivoted to the right, extended my arms, leaned forward, and pulled my arm
muscles in tight so as not to send the ball flying off the court. As I fell my arms hit the ball and delivered it just above the
net where it hung suspended in midair, waiting for Matt to spike it quickly
just underneath the opponent’s net, and send the game into overtime.
End
Ten years later, I ask
myself reader if it really mattered who went on to win the game, for I gained
something much more valuable than a win that early spring afternoon. I saw the power a good friend and teacher
could have over me, able to make me laugh off my weaknesses and help me to use
the abilities I had and could develop.
