This blog is now retired. My new site is at: Predictably Irrational.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Rally in Ramseur

Today was the second-to-last tournament day for CJ and her volleyball team. Our season will end in about two weeks. I am really sad about that.

For now, we headed out at approximately 6:30 AM for the hour and 20 minute drive west of here. Ramseur is literally a blip off of HWY 64, with Randolph High School being a hop, skip and a jump away from the highway.

We got there early and the ritual of arrival is: grab our chairs and secure spots as close to the court action as possible. I arrived first, with two chairs, listening to the official explain where we can set our chairs. Well, I actually got there at the _end_ of her explanation and caught something like "...stay behind the white lines".

So I moseyed over to one side of the court and planted my chairs - above the white line. I then see this woman - peripherally - and hear her say to me, in the most annoying, obnoxious voice and tone: "MA'AM? MA'AM? YOU CAN'T PUT YOUR CHAIRS THERE. THIS IS THE SERVING ZONE."

OK. I pick up my chairs and head for the sidelines.

She then says, in a more serious and more obnoxious, and more annoying tone "MA'AM - THAT IS WHAT SHE TOLD ME. *I* AM JUST TRYING TO SAVE YOU FROM GETTING SETTLED!!!"

I stand still. Not facing her. And I sigh. Dramatically. Not on purpose (dramatically) but because that was exactly how I felt: Why is this woman talking to me again? I moved my chairs like she said. I don't recall making a face of exasperation at her.

Sooooo...of course, my dramatic standing-still-and-sighing caused her to FUCKING CONTINUE TALKING TO ME IN A MORE*2 SERIOUS VOICE, *2 ANNOYING AND *2 HIGH PITCH: "I. AM. JUST. TRYING! TO! HELP! YOU!!!"

I see Tim walk in to the gym and I look at him, agog. I walk over to CJ, who is looking at me, agog. And irritated with the same antics that I am. I think I say something like 'JEEZUZ!' and I walk away to get my blood pressure down because, I am on some kind of hissy fit streak and for some reason, I am willing to bite my tongue at a Saturday volleyball game with a total stranger, vs. being at another place, which I spend my M-F at...

ANYWAY, I think she is still talking...I later learn from Tim that she immediately ran to her clique of moms and started whispering...most likely about me...which actually made me happy.

On to the games...CJ's team started first. They played so well, so competitively. I thought we had the game in the bag.

We didn't. Lost both sets in tight matches.

Break time for about an hour, after watching two kick-ass teams play some great games.

Next, the girls work: this means they referee the games. There is one official that stands beside the up-referee (one of the girls), while three girls become line judges, one managing the scoreboard while another one or two take care of the official record book). Refereeing games looks very complicated and I am glad I am not doing _any_ of it.

Game Two: so close. We get a lead, we lose the lead. We almost win but we don't and again, lose both sets in tight matches. Oh-and-two.

Game Three: we lose the first set after much controversy with the official official. We play the second set and we pull off a win! We, the parents of the team that plays so well in practice only to suffer from stage fright during tourneys, were ECSTATIC. We haven't seen a win in, well, I don't want to count back but it's been a loooonnnnngggg time.

We are now on a tie-breaker and lose it after yet another close game where we were >thisclose< to winning.

It sucked. It's not fun losing. The girls seem to not mind. They play, lose, and go back to their little group and giggle about other things. This, for them, has become a social gathering. There is no TRUE desire to WIN. I mean, sure, they want to win but if they don't? Whatever.

Tim mentioned that, last week, there was a girl who just cried and cried and cried, a little too much and too dramatically for his taste, when her team lost. Today I thought: you know, I wouldn't mind seeing that in any of our girls at least once; it would at least let me know that they actually cared more than I thought they did.

I sound bitter. I'm not. I just want to "add water" and have these girls -- MY GIRL -- play to win. I know that comes with time, with more experience but I can't stop myself from wanting more. Ironically, several tournaments ago, I had a kanipshit and had to leave the gym because my heart and my blood pressure could not handle watching them fall to pieces. Tim told me 'they are just not going to be the big winners this year...they are they need more experience...i have given up on seeing those wins and just showing up and supporting her' I found that "zen" and despite getting frustrated, I can deal with the loss better than that day. However, Tim is now the one, writhing in anger and impatience, every time we lose a point. He told me that advice was _for me_ not for him.

The penalty for being the losingest team of the day is: the girls have to ref the semi-championship match. For us that meant having to wait until 3:30 for them to start their ref gig...after LOSING their final game of the day at around 1:45 PM. Another team plays...then it's tally up who were the top two for each pool (we had two pools)...then each team gets warm-up time...then they finally get to play.

Apparently, at one point during the game, one of the team's parents started yelling at the refs, AKA our girls, about the scoreboard (the plastic number-thingy with the scores) being wrong. I dismissed them because, I learned early on after doing the same stupid thing, that the scores on the written log is usually correct and the girl flipping the numbers could be off. So the scoreboard is not always reflecting the score correctly. But at some point, the refs notice it and fix it but the written score is what is used for the actual scoring while in game mode.

*anyway*, CJ was the scoreboard keeper. And what Tim and I found out _after_ their reffing gig was over, was that the douchebag who was trying to do me a 'favor' and tell me where to move my chairs SCREAMED AT THE REFS AND CALLED THEM STUPID. Called MY CJ STUPID.

I cannot tell you how happy, and unhappy, I am that I did not hear any of this. Happy because, after my encounter that morning with her, I would not have had the ability to not say something to get ejected. I know this.

Unhappy because I did not get the opportunity to go and tell her something *and* get ejected from the game.

But more happy that Tim didn't go after her because that would have been much worse, I think, than anything I could do. And I probably would LET him vs. him pulling me away.

It's too bad she is such a douche because I love the team her (I assume) daughter plays on. They are great players.

We finally make it out of Ramseur around 6:30 PM. Yes, 6:30 PM. We pass through Siler City with nary a nice restaurant to stop and eat at so we hit IHOP in Apex. About 8:43 PM, I finally got to settle my big ass on the couch, after a big belly full of food and gas, and a nice shower to clean off the long day.

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