Matching Tracksuits

the girl

Versus Shannon Forest

Monday 5 October 2020

The girls knew from the start of the season that today’s match would be the biggest challenge. They faced Shannon Forest in the regular season and in the championship last year, and while they won both matches, they went to three sets, and each match was a real battle.

Today, when I arrived, I glanced at the scoreboard and saw our girls were down 15-10. Other than a few moments at the beginning of this or that set, it’s about the only time they’ve been behind, and certainly the only time they’d been that far behind that far into the game. They would pull back within two points or so and then lose another two points.

I didn’t think their undefeated streak would win — I thought they’d win the final two sets if they lost the first one. They just weren’t playing 100%. And to their credit, their opponents were making phenomenal saves. They didn’t have as many heavy hitters as we do, but they took most of the serves and many of the hits and converted them. Still, I thought the girls’ perfect season (and by that, I mean not a single set lost) might end this afternoon. In the end, though, they came back to win it 25-22.

The second set started off with our girls jumping into an early, big lead of 7-1. With a lead like that, which they maintained for most of the game (at one point it was 20-12), I thought it was a done deal. The girls of Shannon Forest had other plans, though. One thing everyone has to give those SF girls is that they never give up. Down eight points, with our girls lacking only 5 points to victory while they had to double their score and then some, they still fought for every ball. And they started clawing back. And soon it was 21-17. And I thought, “They might do to our girls what our girls just did to them.” But it seemed impossible: our girls are good. They can take the hits, pop them up to the setter, who sets up one of three frontline hitters, who can then almost always hit well and often hit with incredible power and speed.

With every point, the home team scored, the home crowd erupted. The SF girls danced and screamed with each point as they pulled it back to 23-22. I could understand their joy: the Langston girls were the big dogs, so to speak. They’d rolled through the season last year and took the championship. They were doing the same this year. To take them down, to take one set — I’ve been in that position. Not in sports but in academic bowl competitions. In the final match of the year, our team took down an until-then undefeated team.

Just one point down.

But it was not to be. They made a couple of errors, and we had a good hit or two, and it was all over. Our perfect season is still perfect, with one more match tomorrow night.

In the championship tournament, though, Shannon Forest will likely meet our girls again. And they will remember how they began that first set. And they will be out for revenge.

Learning

Sunday 4 October 2020

“Hey, there’s a grass volleyball tournament in town this weekend. Want to go play?” L asked.

“Sure,” her best friend N replied.

That’s how it started. So two good friends who both have a couple years’ experience playing volleyball but no experience playing two-girl volleyball — no experience at all, not just no experience playing together in pairs volleyball — set out this morning to see how they’d do.

It was a learning experience, to say the least.

Not only did they not win a single set, their total points scored for six sets (54) didn’t even average out to 10 points per game. To say they got their butts kicked is really quite an understatement.

It’s not something she’s used to in volleyball. Last year, her school’s team won every single match and only dropped three or four sets the entire season. This year, with only two matches remaining, they haven’t lost a single set. They are used to delivering the smackdown, not receiving it.

But it wasn’t always like that either for the Girl. When she first started playing volleyball, she tried out for the school team in sixth grade and didn’t make the cut. We put her in YMCA volleyball and her team didn’t do well at all.

As a parent watching my daughter play volleyball, I always have some mixed emotions. During the last season, her team struggled mightily: they didn’t win a single match, if memory serves, and they only won a handful of sets. It was rough. Lots of frustration in the car after games.

“We won’t ever win.”

Several matches, they were swept, three sets to nothing. There was nothing immediately redeemable about that. I said what any parent would say: “You’re getting stronger.” “This is building character.” “This shows how tough you are, that you keep at it despite the challenges.” (Source)

Still, even then they weren’t getting beaten brutally.

Today, they were. Completely outclassed. Completely and mercilessly beaten by girls who had much more experience than they do.

Point after point, set after set, game after game, they kept playing. They lost by scores like 21-7 and kept playing. They made silly mistakes and went for several points without actually earning a point but gaining points only from unforced errors and still, they kept playing.

I’m not sure when I was prouder of L.

As the morning progressed, they improved. They figured out some of the little strategic differences that pairs volleyball demands. They worked together more. Their game became a little more analytic. They grew.

What’s more, when we asked the girls if they’d enjoyed it, they insisted they’d had fun. And I believe them. So a successful lesson on many levels.

Together

Sunday 27 September 2020

It used to happen more often: the kids and I would play something together and for a while, everything else disappeared. It’s been a long time since that’s happened. This afternoon, we had a little reminder of what that was like.

As the Girl gets older, she’s less and less interested in the things the Boy loves. He can’t handle the ever-decreasing attention and resorts to the old tried-and-true method of getting attention: he pesters her.

“That just makes her want to spend even less time with you, buddy,” I’ve explained more times than I can recall.

“Okay,” he grudgingly admits. And then heads off to pester her again.

Today, though, we went down to the trampoline/swing/hammock area and managed to play like we were all five years old again. There was laugher. There was silliness.

And then we came up to get dinner ready, and it all disappeared.

“E!” cried L, stretching his name into a three-second yell. “Leave me alone!” He was at it again.

Volleyball Tuesday

Tuesday 22 September 2020

The girls had another game today. It was the same as previous games: complete slaughter. At one point, the girls were up in the first set something like 18-3. The coach, being an individual of character, always starts pulling out his big hitters when it’s obvious where the game is going, but at the same time, he wants to give them court time. (Still, when the poor opponents can’t even return an underhand serve after the coach pulled our best server while she was serving, what’s the quality of play they get?)

This was a private school, the private school in the area. Eighth-grade tuition is $21,510. The team in Spartanburg we beat mercilessly was also from a private school, but its tuition was only something like $17k a year. For whatever reason, one would think they would have better teams. And they probably do: it turns out that in most of these private schools that also include a high school, the eighth graders get shuttled up to the high school JV or even varsity team, so our girls are playing sixth and seventh graders.

Today was only a scrimmage game, though. It doesn’t count toward anyone’s record. Still, if it was only a scrimmage, why couldn’t we scrimmage with the JV or even varsity team?

Neighbors’ Signs and Our Swings

Monday 21 September 2020

We went for our typical walk this evening — a route that wanders primarily through the neighborhood on the other side of the main-ish street off of which several neighborhoods spiral. As we walked by a house, a man came up to us saying that he’d been meaning to meet us several times he’s seen us go by. It seems he’s quite the border collie fan and has noticed our cute pup as we walk by. We got to talking and talk turned to corona. He pointed to a sign in his yard — not quite like the sign at right but the same general idea — and said, “I guess it’s obvious where I stand.”

I glanced over at the sign in his neighbor’s yard. I found myself wondering how they get along. I know for a fact that my views are more liberal than our neighbors’ views, but I tend not to talk about politics with them. When the topic does come up, I might make a non-committal comment every now and then, but by and large, I keep my views to myself.

It’s not that I think they’ll be angered that I have different views than they hold. It’s not that I fear damaging the relationship we have (though I wonder if they might not think less of me were they to know what I think of our president). I just don’t see the point in adding politics into a relationship like that.

It reminds me of Frost’s line, “Good fences make good neighbors,” and while I don’t necessarily agree with the sentiment, I would say good fences make great backyards. As do swings, hammocks, trampolines, dogs, and tennis balls.

A Walk and First Bonfire

Sunday 20 September 2020

In the afternoon, we took the dog to the dog park. It’s not that we felt she needed the exercise; rather, we felt she needed some canine socialization. We couldn’t go to our favorite park without a walk, though, so after the dog had had enough (or rather, we’d had enough), we headed out for a short jaunt.

We likely would have made a bit longer walk of it had our favorite park not recently banned pets and bikes from the unpaved areas. K emailed the park administration about it, and they explained that it was due to a number of complaints about off-leash dogs and crazed cyclists who put others at risk and damage the flora. But the thing is, K pointed out on our walk today, we rarely saw others on the off-road trails. There were a couple of more-popular trails that had more traffic, but by and large, we were the only ones we ever saw there.

There is a certain temptation to say, “Forget it — we don’t damage anything, and we wouldn’t dream of letting Clover off-leash, so we’re going to walk the trails anyway.” But we follow rules even when we don’t like them. (Insert political comment here.)

After the walk, we let the kids play on the playground a bit. The biggest kid got a kick out of trying to do the same tricks the middle kid did.

To top off the weekend, we had the first bonfire of the autumn 2020 season.

Rainy Monday

Monday 14 September 2020

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Volleyball Wednesday

Wednesday 9 September 2020

The Girl’s team had another game today — their fourth or so. It was against St. Joseph’s, a local Catholic school that houses grades K-12. Their girls looked awfully small. And then we learned that they’re just sixth- and seventh-grade players. The eighth-grade players move up and play on the high school team.

That put things in a whole new perspective, to be sure.

Still, it’s not about winning and losing they say — and I happen to believe as well. The Girl did the best she could, shook off mistakes and kept going, and was a constant encouragement to her team members.

The Girl, Gone

Saturday 5 September 2020

Another one from Papa’s folder.

As for what happened today — nothing much. Planning, mowing. Nothing major. However, K and the kids are gone, off for a weekend with friends at the lake. Papa and I are here alone. The house is so quiet. And lonely.

Discovered Treasures

Thursday 3 September 2020

I was going through Lightroom folders when I found one called “100CANON_fromPapasCamera” from 2013. It was, as the name suggests, from Papa’s camera.

Lots of pictures I don’t remember seeing.

Downtown

Sunday 30 August 2020

We decided today we needed to get out, to take the kids and the dog and go into the world. Our first stop: a new mural downtown.

It took a month to pain this eight-story mural, and it’s been in the news a few times.

Afterward, we went for a walk in the ever-growing park downtown, followed by a light dinner.

It was almost like normal times except for the masks, which we left off most of the time as there were hardly any people about.

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Game 2

Friday 28 August 2020

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2020 School Year Day 2

Tuesday 25 August 2020

We’ve finished two days of school. I swear it feels like a week already. There’s nothing like doing the same thing over and over to drive the joy out of something. Today, the same lessons as yesterday: one lesson four times, the other once. And what’s worse: this is only the halfway point. I still have to do the same lesson just as many times as I’ve already done it.

As with yesterday, I tried journaling with my journalism/creative nonfiction students today:

Day two is now behind us. I feel like we’ve been here for a week. I’ve done the same thing with eight — count them, eight — classes, and I still have eight more to do. I’m already seeing that the plan to try to do the same lesson with the in-person kids throughout the week was an absolutely ridiculous idea: I’d go stark raving mad if I had to do every week like this week, with the same lesson over and over and over and over and over and over and over. (I’m tempted to do that sixteen times, but I don’t even want to try to keep track of how many times I’ve actually typed it…)

So what was different about today as opposed to yesterday? New kids — the obvious answer. Some very entertaining kids, including siblings of folks I”ve taught in the class (at least two that I can think of). Some very quiet kids. (I used to worry about such kids, but I’ve learned over the years that such kids are quiet as a sort of defense mechanism. What I mistook for near-apathy is in fact just a lack of certainty about where they fit in the class, what their role will be.) SOme kids with great senses of humor — kids that can take ribbing and know that I”m’ actually being silly with them and who hopefully realize I mean the exact opposite.

I also remembered to have my online meeting with kids who are still at home. I got to talk to three girls, one I’ll meet tomorrow and two I’ll meet Thursday. I don’t think anyone really realizes how far that goes in creating a positive first impression. It’s a little bit of effort that has a disproportionately large impact on one’s impression. It’s like paying a dollar and getting ten dollars worth of candy.

All these new procedures are gradually becoming new habits. I didn’t forget to spray disinfectant on any desks today, and I”m not sure I got them all yesterday. It’s one of those things that I think, “Missing one time is not the end of the world,” when, in fact, in a pandemic situation, it might very well ultimately be the end of the world for someone. It’s almost depressing to think about it like that, but viruses don’t care how we feel about them. They’re just there, doing what they do without giving it a single thought.

I am getting terribly yawny now. I always do during seventh period. When I used to have English I during seventh period, I felt those kids were getting something of a raw deal because I could never get through that class with the same enthusiasm as I did with other classes. I found myself wishing I’d filmed fourth period so I could just say, “Watch this video and do it along with them…” It was the same way yesterday, and as a result, I went to bed shortly after nine. I was so exhausted that it was difficult to focus. I guess it’s the way every year during the first few weeks: my body is used to a different schedule, and it rebels at having revert back to a school-year schedule.

It was an especially long day because it was the Girl’s first volleyball game. Possibly the last — who knows in these times. Is it safe? We all take the most precautions that we can. It’s such an important element in L’s life, so important to her mental heath — does that outweigh the risks? What exactly are the risks? It still seems so unlikely and yet so inevitable.

The Girl did well; her team won both sets. She had a couple of really good saves, and in set one, her spike was the winning point (if memory serves).

Her school won both sets easily, and the coach was wise and sportsmanlike enough to pull almost all the starters when the second set was clearly in the bag and put some sixth- and seventh-graders in to get some experience.

A good day, but tiring.

Trim

Monday 17 August 2020

The beard was getting out of hand.

I’d sworn that I wouldn’t trim the thing until we went back to school, back to school for good, not in some awkward, inefficient once-a-week/elearning hybrid. Real school.

When I put on a mask, it looked absolutely horrible.

And it left this awful wrinkle in the beard, a little curl that forced the lower part of the beard to shoot straight out, away from my face like a cowlick from hell.

So there was only one thing to do: let L do what she’s been begging to do for some time now. “When you trim it, let’s put the mask on and the cut around it.

The results, after the initial trim, weren’t that promising. I went in and cleaned it up but never got a real “after” picture.

But she enjoyed doing it, and the Boy enjoyed photographing the adventure.

Family Sports

Thursday 13 August 2020

“Can we play some family sports tonight?” the Boy asked during dinner. He’s always interested in doing something as a family: a family bike ride, a family film, a game of family soccer. But our busy lives (busy even in this time of pandemic) being what they are, it’s rare that we get to play together. Tonight, for example, K had to write an offer on a house for one of her clients, and that takes a fair amount of time. So I went out with the kids and the dog and played some soccer and volleyball with them.

Tonight, the Boy learned a lesson during the game. He’d been bragging to L, insisting that he was a much better soccer player than she. Had the Boy developed fully the critical thinking skills a thirteen-year-old has, he would have looked at relative size, relative experience, and relative speed and thought, “It’s unlikely I’m much better than she.”

Then again, I’ve had plenty of thirteen-year-olds challenge me to chess, swear their going to beat me badly, and then ask as soon as the board is set up, “So, how do you play?” that a thirteen-year-old’s critical thinking skills can be less than ideal.

So they played. E lost. E fussed. I encouraged. And in the end, instead of giving up, he kept trying, kept attacking, and made some really good plays in the end.