Thursday, March 30, 2006

Sit Down?

I’m coaching boys, 7th grade volleyball this year. I just got done with my first game, and I need to kill a half hour to charge my ipod and to let traffic die down. So, I figured this would be a great time to knock out a blog.

We lost both games today, but we did way better than the last time we faced the same team. I was out of town, but I heard we didn’t crack 10 points in either game the first time we faced them. In today's games we were up in the 20's both games. I’d like to think that the spike, pun intended, in point production had something to do with Dr. Kenneth Noisewater’s coaching prowess. What I lack in knowledge, I make up for with enthusiasm. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pretty good volleyball player, and I know the rules. It turns out all my years of playing volleyball at the bar and on the beach did not equip me with the knowledge of all the anal, little nuances in organized volleyball. When you sub in players you have to have them run to the sidelines with the backs of the guys subbing out to the judge, and the front of the guys subbing in has to face her. There is also a hand shaking format in which they have to go to opposite corners, run straight up to the front, so that they can run across and slap hands under the net. Okay, I’m willing to learn these particulars and abide by them, but what I REFUSE to do is sit down while I coach.

I have ADHD. It’s never been diagnosed, but I have a brutal case of it. If you saw my desk right now you’d know what I’m talking about. When I coached basketball I NEVER sat down during a game. I pace back and forth like a caged panther and I howl like a, well, caged panther. Today, midway through the second game, the judge told me to sit down. There were some snickers as the crowd heard the howling come to an abrupt halt, and I sheepishly sat down and put my clipboard under my chair. I really would have liked to have found another place for my clipboard, namely in that bitch judge's corn hole, sideways.

I have a tournament this weekend, and I’m going to continue to pace until I am warned a few times, at which point I’ll sit, but I don’t have to like it.

-Coach “Panther” Noisewater

7 comments:

Lizzie said...

1. You played volleyball at a bar?

2. Why would the judge tell you sit down? What does she care if you pace?

Ok, off to look into getting a new game system...

Dr. Kenneth Noisewater said...

Liz- Yeah, I play in a league at a place called North Beach. They have indoor, sand volleyball.

The rule for coaching is no standing unless it's a timeout. I think she would have looked past that rule had I not been yelling at my 7th graders after every play.

I'm going to leave that advertiser up there to pad my stats. I hope you enjoy your new gaming system!

.

hannahhas said...

I will say that comma, and thus pause after "anal" really threw me for a sec.

I think you should be allow to cheer on your boys with as much enthusiasm as you desire, as long as it's cheering for the and not yelling at them.

mysterygirl! said...

I think the pacing-caged-panther route is a good one-- gotta intimidate the other team's 7th graders, after all.

Hope you guys do well at the tournament!

Dr. Kenneth Noisewater said...

OC- Leave it to you to get all hung up on the anal thing. Don't worry, most of my yelling is enthusiasm and suggestion based, rather than brow beating.

Mystery- Glad you approve of my approach, and thanks for the encouragement! I have to have my ass in a Chicago suburb at 7:50 in the morning tomorrow. I just got done with my lineups, and I was very thurough and anal. Hey, OC, did the "a" word throw you off again?

Anonymous said...

thorough

Ms Smack said...

My ten year old plays netball and I wish her coach walked up and down the court giving advice, encouragement and praise. Often the girls look dumbfounded when they're offside, or given a penalty.

Good for you. YOu'll be a memory in those kids lives forever you know... 'when i was a boy.. our coach used to be really encouraging.. and um, yelling LOL"

Dr, knock off the yelling.