So, it's a new year and along with a new job and a new relationship, I have a new "sport" at which I'm rapidly becoming mediocre. Actually, I should probably remove the quotations, because dodgeball isn't messin' around. Yes, that's right, I am on a dodgeball team in a 1000 person league in Hamilton. I was asked to join by a new friend, who, I'll be honest, I wanted to get in good with. If one of my already locked-in friends had asked me, I might have waffled a bit. But New Friend Winnie wants to be an enthusiastic joiner. Always. So, I jumped in. I also invited my friend Tim, who I had recently discovered to be quite athletic and a joiner himself.
My favourite part of dodgeball has got to be our team name: the Daj Mahballs
I love telling it to people and it's even better when we're wearing our shirts with the custom logo.
Not all the teams have matching shirts, but I'd like to campaign for an Originality trophy - we're a sure thing since the other team names are way lame: Dodgers, Fight Planet, Not In My Face.
If they were to give out an Originality trophy, it would be the only way we could possibly even come close to qualifying for a win.
We are terrible. Truly terrible.
We have lost EVERY single game, most matches and have come pretty close to being kicked out of the league due to a display of poor sportsmanship and one strange instance of random piano playing. Our team is pretty dejected. I, on the other hand, still really enjoy playing. It would be nice to win and I'm usually pretty competitive, but for the most part I still walk out of there with a smile on my face. And often, a bruise.
It might be because I keep thinking back to the first game and how much I hated it and how close I was to simultaneously crying and vomiting that every game since has been a delight. I was not at all prepared for my first taste of dodgeball. I was only armed with LuluLemons and the story of my friend who got a broken nose upon her first failure to dodge. I pretended to stretch alongside my teammates, but I really have no idea how to do that. Then they just sort of throw you in there. Getting hit wasn't so bad, but the running, jumping, dodging and general endurance required for an hour of this game was more than I could handle. It was, hands down, the most intense cardio activity of my life. One girl on my team actually DID throw up.
Now that we're a couple months in, it doesn't feel as intense, but it's still a hardcore work-out. We've been learning some strategies and are trying to work as a team, but I'm pretty sure we still look as haphazard as our first day.
Here's why we can't win:
- Too many chicks. We've been watching the A division teams and they only have the minimum number of girls, 2. We have about 7. And girls can't throw. We just can't. We can dodge and try to catch, but throwing is not our forte.
- No communication. Most of us don't know each other and this is our first time playing together so it's hard to get on the same page. Plus, we're just NOW learning some tricks of the game. Did you know that balls to the head don't count if you're standing upright in a non-athletic stance? This isn't really a trick of the game, just something I learned along the way.
- Not angry enough. We need to go all Red Ross on their asses. But by the time we realize this, we're already exhausted.
- Getting hit doesn't hurt that much. If it hurt as much as I was thinking it would, I'd do anything to avoid getting hit. Sure, winning is a strong incentive, but pain is a greater one.
When my friend mentioned that she and I are now part of the same league, I excitedly asked, "Really??! Will I get to play against you?!" Her response: "Oh. No, sorry sweetie, I'm in the A division." This is code for: "When I see you there, I have to pretend not to know you."
My second favourite thing about dodgeball? This joke about the league organizers, who are predominantly lesbians: They've been dodging balls their whole lives.
Thank you! Good night!