Revenge of the Nerds

See that girl in the red tee and her Curves capri pants to the left near the net? That's me eyeing the ball in yesterday's Faculty vs Eighth Grade volleyball game. What on God's green earth possessed me to sign up for this? Surely not my nifty tan. Oh yeah, I freely choose to make an oaf of myself whenever the opportunity presents itself. Chance to be an oaf? OK, I'll take it, Alex, for $200!

My volleyball oafness goes back to the early '80s. Volleyball was my nemesis in gym class. I would stand at the serving line and hold that ball forever. For. Ever. For many, many evers. I rolled it around in my hands. Rolled it a bit more. But I wouldn't serve it. Could not serve it. (Could be that my hair was in the way.)

I knew that the second that ball left my hands, there was no tellin' where it was gonna fly. Certainly not over the net. Oh, I could bounce that ball all around the gym, but I could not make it go to the other team. As a result of my deftness with the volleyball, I was the most fought over kid in gym class.  

"Ah man, we had her last time. It's YOUR turn!" 

"Uh-uh, WE had her. You have to take her this time." 

Way to make a girl choose the band. (Go band!)

How could I possibly climb out of the misery of my youth and answer the call of my now-school's faculty team? Well, to be honest, I took the bull by the horns, I grabbed the golden ring, I answered an email. I paused for a fraction of a second before I hit SEND and there you go. I put myself on the faculty volleyball team. I did this without full disclosure. Nobody knew my past. Nobody had seen my large hair and Sally Jesse Raphael glasses. Nobody had called the Class of '86 to check my Permanent Record. I figured I was golden. How long could this game take?

It took an hour.

We played three games.

We lost every single one.

But that's not the highlight. 

I could explode the moment with you and make you relive every excruciating moment of me fondling that crazy orange volleyball before finally getting up the nerve to let it fly. But I really don't want to dwell on unpleasantness. I just want to tell you that one time. ONE TIME. One time, I let it fly - over the net ----- OOOOOOOOVVVVVEEEEEERRRRR TTTTTTHHHHHEEEEE NNNNNNNEEEEEETTTTTTTTTT -------- where the eighth graders bounced it around a bit but could not return it.

YES! I scored my first point! MY FIRST POINT! EVER! IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE DINGDANG LIFE! 

And that is my slice of life. 

I may never outlive it.