These old bones...

As we've documented on this blog before, I started playing volleyball again last spring, after a 10 year hiatus. To be sure, I've never been a physical specimen to elicit fear in the souls of the players on the other side of the net. The 5' 91/4" male built like a fire hydrant isn't exactly the ideal volleyball physique. But I enjoy the game, have a reasonably decent volleyball IQ, and have managed to surround myself with outstanding teammates over the years, so I've had some undeserved success on the court at various points. This past spring, I played in two different rec leagues, putting me in the gym as often as three times per week, and I had a blast.

So a few weeks ago when one of my rec league teammates, Brandin, asked if I'd like to play in a grass triples tournament, I figured I ought to give it a whirl. But even though I've played indoor 6's over the past year, I haven't played outdoors since college. And I've gained several anvils worth of weight since then and lost several triathlons worth of cardio-vascular capacity since then. But how hard could it be, right?

Brandin and I convinced my friend, Marlon, to join us, and we set off for the football field at Bishop Guilfoyle High School in Altoona for a day of relaxing volleyball. Except it was in the 90s, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. And we had to play four matches within several hours. In the sun. In the heat. With my microscopic lungs. And my years of accumulated "extra padding."


Honestly, by the end of pool play, I was as physically spent as I've been in many, many years. Maybe more exhausted than I've ever been before. I hurt in places that I didn't know could hurt. I think that my spleen and small intestine spontaneously exploded, and it felt like there were tiny monkeys having a knife-fight inside my lungs. Thankfully, we were able to duck under the tent pictured below for shade between matches, which is also where our fans (including Marlon's wife, Cameisha, and little Julia in her stroller) stayed throughout the day. (Don't worry, Kate and Julia only made a brief appearance before moving on to some cooler climates for the rest of the day.) I'm quite certain the tent saved my life.


But we had a great day. My teammates were outstanding, passed well, played spectacular defense, and hit extremely well with the sets they were given. Marlon has been gifted with pogo sticks for legs, and he actually created a buzz throughout the tournament as people came over to watch our little Jamaican friend bang balls over top of blockers a foot taller than he is.


Ultimately, we made it to the play-offs, but without a functioning spleen, small intestines, and lungs, I was worthless. And it didn't help that our opponents in the play-offs included a 6' 7" PSU men's volleyball player who has played for the U.S. Men's Junior National Team. (I was busy several years ago when they asked me to play for the junior national team.) Let's just say that my block wasn't very effective against him. And we were quickly dispatched from the play-offs, after which I laid in a heap of exhausted patheticness for several hours, trying to convince my legs that they could work again. It was a fabulous, exhausting, wonderful, excruciating, exciting day, filled with occasional glimmers of good volleyball. I don't know if my body will let me, but I might consider doing it again sometime. Shortly after I get that spleen transplant...