Volleyball is in my blood.
It always has been, probably always will. My dad still plays, and he's 58 years old and just had a hip replaced. He's played longer than I've even been alive, and I have to say, playing with him is one of my favorite things in this world.
It's kinda weird that I began to reflect on my life in volleyball this year. I definitely am a sentimental kinda guy, so of course I still have the first t-shirt I ever won (from 1992), I still have the bronze medals from the White River Games (92-94), the Gold medals from the USVBA Regional Championships (1995 and 1998), other various newspaper clippings, photos, awards, etc...of course you are going to keep all that. But this year, I really started thinking about my roots as a player.
Dad would always take us to the Greensburg Armory and the YMCA for various volleyball leagues when my brother and I were just kids. I practically grew up at the Armory, and I still consider that gym my "home court." But my brother and I never got a taste of the action until one fateful night in a little town called St. Paul.
My dad had been going to open gym at St Paul forever, and we would tag along, run around the gym screaming and causing trouble while dad played. But one night they didn't have enough to field the teams, so dad asked if we wanted to play. The year is debatable...I figure I was older than 10, but dad reasons that Andy (my brother who is 2 years older than me) won his first tournament at age 12 which would mean, since we began playing at roughly the same time, that I was younger than that. Anyway, the moral is, I got my start at St Paul.
Now, first of all, I must tell you St Paul is not your ordinary open gym volleyball playing. St Paul was, back then, a rough group of mostly older players whose motto was: "IT'S ALL LEGAL IN ST PAUL."
Sounds like a nice bunch, right? Well, for the most part, I have fond memories, but I still have no clue how dad ever got hooked up with the barnyard play of St Paul. I guess volleyball is in his blood, too, and he played whenever he could, against whoever he could. I understand it now, because he never played illegally. He played to make his game better. And Andy and I emulated that, and made our games better.
Well, we played at St Paul for years and years. Even after we started winning legitimate leagues, we still went back. It was like the Armory...it kinda felt like we belonged. It kinda felt like home. We knew the people, we knew their style of play, but somehow, we transcended that and tried to bring some legitimacy to the newer groups that came. We tried to give back to the younger generation, just like dad did for Andy and me.
When we started playing USVBA (United States Volleyball Association) ball around 1994, 1995, I decided to give up St Paul. Now I can say it was to save wear and tear on the ailing knees, but in all honesty, I quit going there for open gym because I was scared I would get hurt. This was a place where the net was frequently torn down by an opposing player hanging on it trying to make a play. And center line??? It didn't exist at St Paul, which made twisted ankles and knees likely, if not expected.
Andy and dad continued the tradition, but I gracefully bowed out of the St Paul limelight, and never went back.
Until a few weeks ago.
It had been 12, 13 years since I played a game at St Paul, but the new Co-Ed Greensburg league season was starting, and Becky really wanted to get some practice in before it began. Our only option was St Paul. Dad convinced me that the play had improved greatly, and the injuries and the torn nets had decreased in frequency. I was nervous...about playing there, about getting hurt, and most of all, I was just nervous to go back after all those years.
When we pulled up to the gym, all the old memories came flooding back. I couldn't believe I was there again, it felt good to be back. I walked into the gym to see it hadn't really changed much. A new floor, new ceiling, same old St Paul gym.
Only one of the original St Paulians that I knew from back in the day still made the trip, most of the others were too old, or lost interest. But one guy still kept the whole thing going, and he welcomed me back with a hug and almost a tear. It was like a family reuniting after a long absence.
We played our games, won some, lost some, but laughed the whole time. Don't know if it helped Becky or my game any going into this, my 18th season of Greensburg Volleyball, but I know it felt good going back...if just for one night.
See you again in 10 years, St Paul...
No comments:
Post a Comment