A Familiar Face

We played our first volleyball game last night. The owner of the sport complex where Jesse plays soccer and cricket found another couple that wanted to start a team in the mixed league, so we signed up. Unfortunately, they were leaving on holiday for two weeks, but another woman from the better league joined us for our first game. The house rules are quite different from what I've played before, the closest being wallyball. We're surrounded by nets, and it's the same as volleyball in that you can't hit the ceiling when it goes over the net. But after the serve, any wall (including the back wall) is fair game. There's not really any such thing as a lift (pretty much every contact with the ball is some kind of carry), and you just stand in the back corner to serve. There are 2 points for an ace serve. Guys can't hit the ball with a closed fist. (Actually, the rule as explained was that 'blokes' can't hit the ball with a closed fist.)

I haven't played volleyball since college, and Jesse maintains he hasn't since 6th grade. It took a little warming up, but we got into it. There are 2 games of 15 minutes each. We lost the first 42-40. Not too shabby. The second game was a different story. The person helping us out was good about informing us of the house rules. Unfortunately, she also took every opportunity to explain what we had done wrong. Those who know me well know that I took this really well... ha. "Cover your corner." "You have to move for that." "You hit the roof with the serve."

I heard "cover your corner" so many times, I was about to lose it. Thank you, I am well aware that ball was my responsibility and I botched it. I know that serve was not good. After being told that again, I just said, as straight faced as I could, "I get it." I'm tired, I'm not as good as I used to be, these rules are different, and I'm trying.

This is where I saw the familiar face: my pride. It's so easy for me to rip into the rules, talk about what a low level of play it is, etc. To be frustrated with this woman who is, in all likelihood, just trying to help us get used to the game. But the real problem, I discovered, was that I considered myself above the instruction. It's scary to think that I can take that kind of approach to something that's supposed to be just for fun. Yes, I may know more about 6-on-6 volleyball, but I'm really not good enough to blaze any trails there. My "career" there ended after 4 years of varsity at a DD school in Western New York State, never having won even a Sectional title.

It's tempting to be proud of educational achievements, of having obtained professional certifications, of uprooting my life for a new adventure. But if the gospel is true, none of these things make me any better than another person. My hope and my prayer is that I can get back on that court next week and just have fun. I'm not going to be anyone's MVP; in all reality, I will need to re-learn the game a bit, between being away for so long and the new rules. Perfectionism has no place in recreational sports. Perhaps, with myself out of the way, I can build relationships with people and show them what real hope looks like.