Note:

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

Sunday, November 13, 2011

A New Ball Game

We have entered a new year of club volleyball.

Last month were tryouts. We decided that NC Elite, the club that CJ played for last season, would be the only place we would have her tryout at. Last year, we tried out at two places: NC Elite and that other one with the too-crazy-for-me van parked in its parking lot. We were fortunate enough that CJ made it on to NC Elite and we had a great season with a wonderful coach and wonderful teammates.

This year's tryouts went a little differently. CJ was trying out for the 14s teams and there are four of them, in order of most competitive to competitive: Black, Cardinal, White and Silver. I, I mean, *we*, wanted to make the White team. This one had a couple of out-of-state tournaments that CJ was excited about going to. But overall, we just wanted to make a team. There seemed to be a lot of girls trying out this year and even though there would be four teams (vs. only the two 13s teams last year), that meant only 40 girls would make a team.

The problem with a parent watching their child tryout? We only see the bad.

Well, that's not entirely true. 

We see the good and we sigh with relief. Yes! That's the way to do it!

And then the one fuck-up you do see and it's like "ARRRGGGH! WTF is she doing?! She knows better!"

And my stomach ends up in knots and then again, all i see are the mistakes. Of course, when I see CJ, I'm like "great job!" But because I live vicariously through her with volleyball, I want her to excel. But what I want and what she's capable of are not quite in sync.

Volleyball tryouts span two days. On the last day, nothing happens. No offers, nothing. Last year, they had pulled CJ aside and made their offer. This year, we would have to wait for a phone call.

It didn't take long. That afternoon at home, CJ got the phone call. I had her answer...I was making dinner...soooo excited. Her face was lit up. I hear a male voice on the other side and CJ looks at me, puzzled, and says out loud "Silver". awwww...I think. She wanted white; *we* wanted white. She looks at me again and asks "what do I say?" And I know she doesn't want to say yes because she wants to be on white. But it's the same club and I know, if the offer is for silver that they are not going to turn around and make another offer for the white team. So I tell her "say yes!" and she walks away and does that.

But she is not happy. And when Tim shows up, I tell him while CJ curls up on the couch and cries.

And this is when I enter the five phases of grief, in a matter of minutes. I am cooking dinner at this time, while CJ mourns her loss in the living room.

I walk from the kitchen, to the living room, usually with a knife or something in my hand:

[Acceptance] It will be fine. At least you made a team! Remember, some girls won't even make it on a team. 

Walk back into the kitchen, chop up something, walk back into living room:

[Anger] Screw them! they don't know what they are missing! you will be the best damn volleyball player on the silver team and then they will WISH they put you on the white team!

Walk back, chop, think, come back:
[Bargaining] Maybe we should consider another team? I can look at that wacko place that we went to last year and you could try out there?

[Denial?] Maybe they'll call back and offer you a white slot? Some of the girls are trying out in multiple places so if they don't fill all the white spots, maybe you'll get a call?

Depression was just how we felt. And so silly as she fricking MADE IT ON A TEAM!

Regardless, acceptance took place...especially after Tim told me to leave it alone and stay in the kitchen and cook dinner.

This was Sunday, October 23rd. 

On Tuesday the 25th, I had a voicemail message from the coach for the white team. She said exactly what I mentioned in one of my many rants on Sunday: a spot opened up and CJ was their first choice to fill the slot for their white team. Would she be interested in joining them?

Ha! I called that coach right back and left her a message of acceptance...before I said anything to Tim or CJ. How pageant-mom is that? 

I, of course, let Tim know and waited, impatiently, for CJ to get home so I could give her the great news. When she finally texted me that she was home, I asked her to call me...and I gave her the news. Her voice was ecstatic, she was excited and happy. So was I! And I was like "See! Didn't I tell you this could happen????" expecting her to give some words of gratitude, or anything....but instead, I got silence. "Hello? Are you OK?" and she says to me "Do you have to ruin the moment?" That's my girl.

So the new season of volleyball is beginning. They have already practice a few times but the practices begin this week, which means Tim and I will be playing man-to-man combat: Tim takes CJ to volleyball while MiMi and I finish out our Girls on the Run gig, which happen to both take place on the same days.

Our first tournament will be in January and unfortunately, will take place while we are in the Philippines. But there will be many more and I am looking forward to having my tummy be tied up in knots...again...and again.

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