"I have a bad feeling about this..."

Found this unfinished essay in the Archives from back in October.... ohhhhh the memories....   ; )  - kirby

"I have a bad feeling about this..."

Those were the words my wife muttered as I walked out the door last night for the 3rd Annual "Dodge Out Hunger" - charity Dodgeball tournament to benefit the Pine City Food Shelf.

Andy, my buddy from church, sent out an exploratory text message in the middle of last week wondering if I would be up to join a team for a little dodgeball. I have been as busy as a beaver this fall with everything from coaching to carpeting. All I needed was one more reason to fill in the smallest of empty spaces on our organizational refrigerator calendar. But Andy had been reaching out to me often over the past few years and rarely are we able to connect. We've had good intentions to take the boys for a walk in the woods or for a launch trip on Lake Mille Lacs but nothing has ever seemed to come of our intentions. Andy is a good guy and it was hard for me to say "No" - so with nothing scheduled for Tuesday, I agreed to play. Besides - it was for charity!

I knew nothing of this little local competition.

I didn't know that Pine City folk had been coming together to hurl squishy balls at each other for the last two years. I didn't realize that teams representing a few small town businesses had matching jerseys and deep rosters. I couldn't tell if the "Prison Team" consisted of employees or inmates. I didn't know that local softball legends clung to their summer triumphs by taking this childish game serious as if Gold Medals and Hall of Fame ballots hung in the balance. After signing the obligatory "Release of Liability", I began to see that this was no small potatoes. I was about to enter the coliseum of competition as a gladiator defending his honor.

*********************************************************************************here is where the story was abruptly cut short....no doubt more important things came up - more important than documenting my dodgeball heroics.

CONTINUED.....

Andy had pieced together a team of 4 old duffers - so old that although unofficial, I think it was pretty obvious that we held the highest average age of teams in attendance. Actually one short of a full squad,  meant we would start every game a man down. We lost our first tilt just getting some of the squeaks out; oiling up the joints; sizing up the competition; playing possum. But from there we went on a terror. It seemed like the old dudes could play. Down went the prison team and their matching Under Armour headbands. Down went the potpourri of City Workers. People started to take notice of the only team playing with only four "athletes".

You laugh?

Finely tuned athletes that through years of experience and battle have learned when to attack and when to play defense. Andy had some how magically crafted our old timer team to be a perfect mix of mind and muscle. We worked harder as the crowd cheered louder. Before you could dodge a wrench we were posting a record near the top of the heap. With only two games left to play, we had only lost once. In the Food Drive bracket only the top two records would advance to the "ship". And for that second to last game we drew the all women's team..... mint!

To open up the game with a gentlemanly offer, the four of us backed off on the initial rush to mid court to get the first supply of squishy balls. Perhaps it was a move of machismo but I honestly thought that the first volley would be one we could withstand. I was wrong. One man went down in the first 5 seconds, as we scrambled to return fire. The ladies on the other side of mid court wearing eye black, chucked it with all their might and seemed to be targeting ME. All that service to their children in local youth soccer and hockey teams and you'd think that they'd take it easy on me but that was far from what was happening. I ran back and forth, in and out, up and down as fast as my formally fit body would take me. I nailed an unsuspecting mother, right in the hip to even things out....grabbed the closest rolling ammo I could find and charged ahead. With two women bearing down on me, I reversed fields and backpedaled as they simultaneously fired. Wingggggg..... Whizzzzzz.... I was in the clear. As I planted my right foot and leaned forward to begin the charge - SNAP!

I honestly thought that I had been stabbed from behind in the calf, reminiscent of the 1993 stabbing of Monica Seles when a psychologically abnormal fan rushed from the stands to stab the young tennis star between the shoulder blades. I immediately looked over my shoulder in disbelief that someone was threatened enough by my DodgeBall skills that they felt necessary to cut my calf wide open. No attacker in sight. As a matter of fact, there wasn't another person standing within 15 feet of me. I clutched at my right leg, expecting to see a gaping wound and flowing blood. There was none. I skipped and hopped to the sidelines, calling for a substitution as spectators and competitors alike knew that something had gone amiss.

An athletic trainer (Yes - and athletic trainer at the Food Shelf Dodgeball Tourney) met me near the bleachers as my calf muscle coiled in to a nice little ball. We headed right for the training room and the immediate diagnosis was easy - A pulled calf muscle. Elevate, Ice and Rest.

My team of three went on to loose to the women without me. With one more regularly scheduled game before the decisive playoff, I assured my team that I could stand at the back line and play defensive dodgeball. I avoided being hit without moving as much as three feet left or right. I threw no attack balls that round yet we won playing now with 3 and a half men. I crawled my way up the bleachers and wretched on my aching calf. I could barely stand the pain but would not let on to anyone in the gym the agony that I was in. Most everyone thought I had rolled my ankle. We waited with baited breath for pool play to finish and the announcement of the championship teams... there I laid....across the bleachers, bag of ice on my calf, kneading my leg like a batch of lumpy dough...

One loss away from contention!
One lousy loss away from being in the top two!
And to add insult to injury - we had beat the two teams playing for all of the glory.
What would my wife say???

"I had a bad feeling about this..."