Chapter One-A. I am a girl!

This is a surprise. Here I spent all of Chapter One thinking I was a boy, writing as if I were a boy, only to find out, in passing mind you, that I am a girl. I didn’t even think to write “Whether I am a boy, or whether I am a girl, the following pages will soon reveal.” Didn’t even enter my little baby mind.

So, what happened was, I was lying there in my dirty diaper, staring at the ceiling, when some loud voices disturbed my reverie.

“A girl!” said a growly voice to my left. “A GIRL!?”

“Yes, dear,” said a lovely voice from somewhere on my right, further away, and weaker. “We did discuss the possibility.”

“A GIRL?!” repeated Growly, obviously not the brightest bear in the woods. “What are we going to do with a girl!?”

“Love her?” suggested Lovely.

“But she can’t play football! They’d break her in two! Snap her like a twig!”

“There are other sports, dear. She could play basketball ...”

“I’d rather have my eyes gouged out!” roared Growly.

“Field hockey?” asked Lovely.

“Just kill me now!”

“Soccer?” tried Lovely.

“That’s not even American! French people play soccer!”

“Volleyball?” offered Lovely, with, I noted, some hesitation.

“Volleyball!? VOLLEYBALL!? OVER MY DEAD BODY!!” exclaimed the big, bad bear as it stomped out of the room. “A GIRL!?”


So. I have decided to play volleyball, whatever that is.

Untitled*

Chapter One. I am born.


Whether I will continue to brazenly plagiarize Dickens, or whether, seeing the folly of my ways and wishing to avoid the embarrassment which would fall upon my family and friends, I choose to knock it off, is a question I am not presently too keen on answering. I was just born, after all. What’s with all the lights, and what’s there to eat? What?? You have to be joking! What else you got?

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by some other clown, are also questions which do not interest me in the least. I am, in fact, much more concerned with the tense I am employing in this chapter. It seems to me -- and mind you I do not pretend to be an expert on grammar, being an infant and all -- that not only will the one I am currently using be difficult to maintain, but that it will also present me with many problems in regards to logic. How is it, for instance, that I am writing this book when I have, as I claim above, just been born? Have there been other authors in diapers (for indeed I am now diapered)? Were they successful? Did any of them ever get fed? Or changed (for indeed I am now ready for a new diaper)?

Whether I should have continued with this chapter, or whether I was right to just skip ahead to Chapter Two, or, as I just decided to call it, Chapter 1A, the following pages must show. You shall be the judge, dear reader, although your verdict also does not interest me in the slightest.

Later.


*Still working on the title. Something to do with volleyball.

In search of a better metaphor

We can’t keep using “The Dance” or “The Big Dance” for the NCAA Tournament. For one thing, it belongs to basketball, and, for a second thing, it’s stupid. Who, besides high school students who still have proms, is invited to a dance anymore, anyhow? I’m certainly not. Hey! Wait a damned second! Are all you bastards having dances and not inviting me?! Thanks a lot!

So I’ve given this some thought. I’d like to say I’ve given this a lot of thought, but that would be a lie, since I’ve only been thinking about it since I started typing, and many of those thoughts have been shoved aside by bigger and tougher thoughts about lunch. Nevertheless, here’s what I’ve come up with:

The Birthday Party

The Bus to Champtown

The Elevator to the Top Floor

Lunch

The Wedding

Poking the NCAA's


The Birthday Party

I know kids are still being invited to birthday parties. Picture poor little Suzie, sitting there in class while all her so-called friends jabber on about the crayon-lettered invites they just received to little Hailey’s 6th birthday party. Now picture someone posting “Poor Ohio School of Remedial Dentistry. 22-6 and still no cake for them.”

The Bus to Champtown

Ever miss a bus? Or any vehicle, for that matter. Could be a train, a plane, or a surrey with the fringe on top. Assuming it was headed somewhere you wanted to go -- not, for example, to Guantanamo -- it’s a major bummer. “Poor Ohio Institute of Adequately Constructed Large Buildings. 25-3 and still no ticket on the Greyhound.”

The Elevator to the Top Floor

How about an elevator crammed full of humanity? There was no room for you, even if you had managed to drop that 20 pounds you've been meaning to, uh, misplace. “Poor Ohio Satanic Tech. 23-7 and the elevator didn’t stop at their floor.”

Lunch

Still thinking about lunch. Forget this one.

The Wedding

Then there’s the wedding, the biggest bash of the year. Was the invitation lost in the mail? Does your only decent suit no longer fit? Did the groom find out about you and the bride? “Poor College of Ohio Grammar Reform. 25-1 and they might as well keep that toaster for themselves.”

Poking the NCAA's

I don’t know anything about Facebook. Or, ahem, "poking". But I’m guessing there’s an applicable metaphor in there somewhere.


There you have it. Six suggestions. I’ve given the old ball a push and it’s now rolling. Time for you to do whatever it is one does with a rolling ball. As for me, I’m late for lunch.

A dead horse takes one on the chin

I'm not letting this go. YOU make the call. Backrow block, no call, illegal block? What's that? Yes, I expect you to figure out what the hell this represents.

OK. It's several volleyballs and the vertical and horizontal planes of the net.

See the earlier blog, if you dare! In theory, that's what those labels are for, although "nut-slinging squirrels" is there to entice Wolfgang, who is fascinated by the critters. I don't know why. Ask him.

Big Ten Hypothetical

Without actually mining the history of Big Ten volleyball -- or even asking someone who might know -- I'm going to venture to guess that there has never been a tighter race for third place in the conference, this late in the season. Just take a gander at the conference standings as of Tuesday 11/13.

Standings

Penn State 816-0
Wisconsin 814-2
Michigan 88-8
Minnesota 88-8
Purdue 88-8
Northwestern 87-9
Illinois 87-9
Michigan State 87-9
Indiana 86-10
Ohio State 86-10
Iowa 81-15



There are a few things we know already, and I don’t mean the obvious points such as Penn State’s continual success really becoming annoying or Iowa’s lack of success becoming one of Life’s certainties, right up there with Death, Taxes and GameTracker freezing up. Nope, not those. These:


4There will not be a tie for third with EIGHT teams finishing 10-10. The wins and losses will not add up. There are 22 matches left and even if Wisconsin and PSU both went 0-4, we would still only have 21 losses. It can’t happen.

4There COULD be an eight-way tie for third with all the teams finishing 9-11, however.

4Penn State and Wisconsin need to learn to share.


So how do we get to this eight-way tie for third? Well, as long as we’re taking ganders, let’s grab another one, this time at the remaining schedules for those eight teams (bye-bye, Lions, Badgers and Hawkeyes!):


Remaining matches

Michigan: @ Purdue, @ Indiana, OSU, PSU
Minnesota: MSU, Northwestern, @ Illinois, @ Wisconsin
Purdue: Indiana, Michigan, @ MSU, @ Northwestern
Northwestern: @ Iowa, @ Minnesota, Indiana, Purdue
Illinois: @ OSU, @ PSU, Minnesota, Iowa
Michigan State: @ Minnesota, @ Iowa, Purdue, Indiana
Indiana: @ Purdue, Michigan, @ Northwestern, @ MSU
Ohio State: Illinois, Wisconsin, PSU, @ Michigan


Next, what is the most likely scenario for this to happen? There may be other ways to have each team finish at 9-11, but this is what I came up with (bold type represents a WIN):

Most likely of the unlikely scenarios?

Michigan: @ Purdue, @ Indiana, OSU, PSU
Minnesota: MSU, Northwestern, @ Illinois, @ Wisconsin
Purdue: Indiana, Michigan, @ MSU, @ Northwestern
Northwestern: @ Iowa, @ Minnesota, Indiana, Purdue
Illinois: @ OSU, @ PSU, Minnesota, Iowa
Michigan State: @ Minnesota, @ Iowa, Purdue, Indiana
Indiana: @ Purdue, Michigan, @ Northwestern, @ MSU
Ohio State: Illinois, Wisconsin, PSU, @ Michigan


A few disclaimers:

4Obviously, I want Minnesota to finish 12-8. This is purely hypothetical (see Blog title), done solely for the odd aesthetics of an eight-way tie. No hate comments, please!

4Ohio State needs to beat either Wisconsin or Penn State for this to happen. They will be playing at home, however. They also have to win at Michigan. Simply put, the Buckeyes are the shakiest playing card in our house of trembling cards.

4Northwestern has been given the assignment of losing in Iowa City. Good luck, Wildcats, with that bit of bad luck.

4Eye damage caused by the intensity of the color in this blog is your own responsibility.

Blogversations With Something

[OK, this is a facsimile. The FIVB photo keeps disappearing. They are very close, however.]

Today’s Blogversation is with the new volleyball prototype FIVB has been showing around at the World Cup. Rumor is that this ball, or something very much like it, could be THE ball at the 2008 Olympics in Beijing.


(R)uffda!: So, Ball... can I call you “Ball”?

New Volleyball Prototype: Can I call you “Mammal”?

(R)!: Whoa! What’s with the attitude, dimples?

NVP: I knew it! I knew exactly where this interview was headed. “Dimples”! I could have predicted you’d say something like that. You traditionalists are all the same. It’s all about the “purity” of the sport. How dare we mess with your precious game! and So and so isn’t half the player Karen Kemner was! Well, guess what?! Karen Kemner is dead! It’s time to move on. Embrace the Now!

(R)!: Karen isn’t dead.

NVP: Beside the point. She might as well be.

(R)!: I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear that.

NVP: OK, Mr. Bigshot Blogger, you tell me: What do you have against me and my ilk?

(R)!: You have an ilk? I see the dimples, but an ilk?

NVP: Again with the dimples. How is it exactly that I offend you, Doofda?

(R)!: You don’t offend me. Although that “Doofda” was uncalled for. Let’s try this: Tell us why Volleyball needs a new ball.

NVP: Why’d Lincoln need a beard?

(R)!: Because he was even uglier without one?

NVP: No! Because he wanted to look presidential. Volleyball wants to look modern. Fashionable. Trendy.

(R)!: So you’re going to grow a beard?

NVP: You really are kind of dim, aren’t you?

(R)!: Well, I’m sitting here letting a ball insult me, so there are obviously brighter bulbs in Grandma’s living room. So, the whole point of the change is basically a makeover?

NVP: Not how I’d put it. I also fly straighter and roll truer. My cover is softer, as well. But even if I wasn’t a better performing ball, you should never underestimate the appeal of truly chic sports equipment.

(R)!: Tell me about your bladder.

NVP: I beg your pardon!

(R)!: Chic is great, but if you have a leaky bladder, what's the point. Didn't Kate Moss say that?

NVP: You are yanking my chain, Doofda.

(R)!: I guess I was just unaware that there was a problem with the ball. Next thing you'll tell me the net's being redesigned.

NVP: As a matter of fact, Ruben has some ideas about that.

(R)!: Well, it's been great talking to you.

NVP: That's it?!

(R)!: Don't you need to roll along? You look like you could use some air.

NVP: Fine. But you'll be sorry. I am part of the future, Doofda. You and your kind aren't even dinosaurs. You're dinosaurs in leisure suits.

(R)!: See you in Beijing! Until next time, this has been Blogversations With Something.

Blogversations with (R)uffda! and Friends

(R)uffda!: Greetings, readers. We’re going to try a little something different today, an actual real-time interview. What’s different? Well, I’m sharing the keyboard with my interviewee. We will not be talking to each other, but rather engaging in a blogversation.

That’s not a word.

(R)!: Hold on. I haven’t introduced you yet, so you don’t have the little blogversation dealie before your comments. You’re just going to confuse everyone.

This is stupid.

(R)!: Just wait! I’d like to welcome to the blog the legendary volleyball star and beach player Ashton Davoy.

Ashton Davoy:

(R)!: You need to type something, Ash. Otherwise you just have a blank space after the little blogversation dealie.

AD:

(R)!: OK. Ash, you’ve won two Olympic gold medals --

AD: Three. I’ve won three gold medals.

(R)!: You need to let me finish. You can’t just push me aside and start typing when I’m in the middle of a question. Anyhow, you’ve won two Olympic gold medals in volleyball, both in the 1980s.

AD: I also won a gold medal in Beach volleyball, in 1996.

(R)!: Right, but that one doesn’t really count, does it?

AD: What do you mean “it doesn’t count”??!

(R)!: Easy with the punctuation there, Ash. No need to go all multiple q-marks on me. I’m just saying you won that last one wearing a bathing suit. That’s like running the 100-yard dash in snowshoes, isn’t it?

AD: Have you even PLAYED Beach volleyball?

(R)!: A few times. Didn’t care for it much, to tell you the truth. Too much sand in the trunks and it took for ever to get the damned car cleaned up.

AD: It takes a lot of skill to play that game!

(R)!: As does running the 100 in snowshoes. But let’s move on. If you were a tree, would you be deciduous or coniferous?

AD: I’m not a damned tree. I’m a Beach volleyball player and proud of it.

(R)!: I always pictured you as an evergreen type of guy. Mind if I put you down for coniferous?

AD: I’m out of here.

(R)!: A special thanks to Ashton Davoy, former volleyball player, now hanging out on beaches in his swimsuit, looking for a game of beachball.

AD: It’s VOLLEYBALL!!

(R)!: And I'd like to call myself a writer, but I know I'm just blogging here. Anyhow, looks like this morning’s blog has come to an end, since you can’t have a blogversation with only one person. That’d be blogsturbation, I believe. Until next time, this is (R)uffda! wishing you all kills and digs and no sand in your pants.

(R)uffda! Asks

1) So the wife's team made the State Tournament, but it was a long match. By the time the girls won, I had 45 minutes for a 90 minute to 2 hour drive. Being the good husband I am, and wishing to do my part for the glory of the team, I took off anyhow. I arrive at the gym in time to see the last 5 points of a match that lasted less than an hour. Here's my question: It seems to me this is the perfect time to play a practical joke on the spousal entity. Should I follow my instincts and make up a scouting report? I have all sorts of cool ideas, like serving to area one constantly, and not blocking their middles. What do you think? Good joke or marriage-bomb?

2) I think this blog needs a shot in the butt. I was thinking about just absolutely ripping a program to really jab that hypodermic into the old rump. Nebraska or Hawai'i?

3) Somebody needs to stand up to that bully Terry Pettit. He can't be making such blatantly incendiary statements about one of our members without someone saying "Hey, Pettit! Back off, man!" Who should it be? I'm sure as hell not going to do it.

4) I am almost finished with the unauthorized biography of Rich Kern. I need a good title and all I can come up with is "Rich Kern: From Attica to Lincoln." Anyone have any better ideas?

5) Do I really need an iPod?

The Weekend That Will Be

It’s a busy weekend in the (R)uffda! household, even without the usual chaos three children and two less-than-motivated parents can produce. This (Friday) evening, the Gophers will be playing Michigan in Ann Arbor, there at the converted swimming pool. Supposedly, this will be on GameWrecker, so I’ll have that added frustration to look forward to. To which to look forward. Whatever. Relying on this technological marvel is very much like when a certain girlfriend broke up with me and promised that she would call “to see how I was doing”. All I’m saying is: Don’t get your hopes up.

This isn’t the only match of interest tonight. We have ASU/Washington, California/Oregon, LSU/Kentucky, Missouri State/Wichita State, Penn State/Purdue, and UCLA/USC, as well. That latter match is even scheduled for live TV. Top all of this off with the piles of Halloween candy the daughters brought home and the evening appears to be covered.

Saturday, Mrs. (R)’s high school team plays for a berth in the State Tournament. (Mrs. (R) is the coach, by the way, not one of the players -- for all you wiseasses out there.) Then, Mr. (R) (that’s I) is to drive 90 minutes to 2 hours into the night to scout Mrs. (R)’s first round opponent. Why would she entrust such responsibility with me? Who knows. Maybe she just wants me out of town during the wild celebration sure to break loose. (Unless she screws it up and they lose, of course.)

Meanwhile, Saturday also features some more top-notch volleyball, including Iowa State/Texas A&M, Kansas State/Nebraska, Miami of Ohio/Ohio, and San Diego/Santa Clara. If I weren’t being sent deep into the Heart of Darkness that is upstate Minnesota (The Unpleasantness! The Unpleasantness!), there is also the MIAC DIII final at St. Thomas, with St. Benedict coming in to face the Tommies.

The weekend of fun concludes with Arkansas/Florida, Bowling Green/Ohio, Kentucky/Mississippi, and Louisville/Pittsburgh as the premier matches on Sunday. For the nitpickers, I do know there are those who insist on calling Mississippi “Ole Miss.” I refuse. It’s disrespectful to the Spinster Nation, of which, I certainly hope, my ex-girlfriend is one.



On a side note, I invite you to view (and join) the scintillating discussion about the backrow setter and the backrow block call at the link below. See also the previous blog entry. We will make a difference, even if it comes down to self-immolation by fire (or other means yet to be determined).

http://volleytalk.proboards88.com/index.cgi?board=general&action=display&thread=1193951321&page=1