"Any Time (I Am There)" (ELEGIES: A SONG CYCLE)

I ventured into spring season 2005 with a new team and a new league. I had finally moved over to New York Urban. Now they are the ones who run the open play that I had gone to, but I also stuck with my first league, Big City, and my old team. We had stayed in Big City because it worked out for everyone else's schedule. BC schedules your games on the same night every week so you have a set schedule, but they also have a few rules such as not receiving a hard hit with an open hands and one toss on a serve. These seem like really simple things when you start playing the game, but after a few seasons they start to get on your nerves. NYUrban doesn't guarantee you a specific night every week but they give you a league schedule in ample time to coordinate your schedule with. I've noticed over the years that more people start with Big City but end up moving over to NYUrban. Just an observation.

I think there was only one time when I was not able to make one of the games because they were scheduled at the same time. There were times when they were scheduled back to back at different gyms, but somehow I would make those games. It was during this season I took a few weeks off to go home for personal reasons. My grandfather had been diagnosed with cancer, and I wanted to assist in staying with him in the hospital. That is the drawback with being so far away from your family, you aren't able to help out as quickly as you would like to. My extended family had fixed schedules spread among the children and household tasks taken care of by the grandchildren during my grandfather's illness which had been about four months. When I arrived, I spent almost every night with him in the hospital, sitting with him, reading stories and just talking yet he was not responsive at this point. I got ready to go back to New York after a couple of weeks with plans to return in another month. I was arriving back in NY in time to play two games that very night. On my way to the airport, I visited my grandfather and told them that I would be back in a few weeks, a "see ya later." His eyes blinking to give me a response. I don't believe in "goodbyes." I got on the boarding line at the airport, and my dad called me at that moment on my cell and said that my grandfather had passed. I rushed out of that airport, emotions guiding me when my mind was failing. It was not supposed to happen this way, I was supposed to "see ya later." Yet he was telling me "goodbye." Sometimes we are reminded about embracing the ones around you, who make a difference in your life, to keep living for today because tomorrow is never guaranteed.

"What I Did For Love" (A CHORUS LINE)

I've always believed in the idea of romanticism--the emotions and depth of two souls connecting. But I've also been told that I usually can't tell when relationships take shape. Maybe my idea of it is too fantasized and the obvious is lost on me. But I'm not aware, more or less, which is actually true when I think about it. In the course of three years, I may not have seen relationships develop, but I certainly heard about them as soon as they become "visible" or "public." Sometimes I find out in the most unexpected ways. Yet I'm always happy for those that find someone special, and surprisingly I've known many from the volleyball court go from dating to engagement to marriage. Also there have been break-ups that can shake up the core of any volleyball group, and like other life situations, support is provided, given without question.

I bring this up because I found out recently of a volleyball friend who told me that she got engaged. Her fiancee also plays volleyball and I knew him from open play. They initially met through a friend at lunch one day. Then a few days later, they bumped into each other at Sunday open play, not knowing that the other played there. I can't believe how time has flown by so fast. And yet my romanticism is renewed.

"I Can't Do It Alone" (CHICAGO)

By the winter season 2005, I had been captain of 100% Spike Proof (Big City league) for a couple of seasons, but it was also one of the most stressful experiences to date. As a team, we had to adjust to some changes in our roster. With any new addition, the team chemistry is ultimately put to the test. From an external viewpoint, we looked like a content team, yet underneath we were clashing individuals. As a captain, one must remain the emotional center of the team, but the stress from adding new players onto the team who didn't adjust well caused a lot of dissension from the other members. I was fighting with friends, trying to make it work. I realized that maybe I bit off more than I could chew with the captain role because it was hard to try and please everyone about the situation. I find fault in myself in that aspect because I just could not pull the team together during this difficult adjustment. It seems like a simple thing but it blew up more than I ever expected. But like I am with most things in my life, I was hopeful and optimistic that the team would step up and become a more uniformed team with better goals and hopefully a better attitude. Otherwise, it was going to be a long season.

I would always coordinate get-togethers for the team outside of the league games. I don't know why I enjoy doing that but I do. Anyway, about four weeks into our season, I get a vague email saying that the team would meet up at Bowlmor Lanes for a relaxing night of bowling. They just told me to show up at 7:00pm on a Monday night during a week we had no game. I'm not used to just showing up and waiting, at least not knowing the status of when everyone would be arriving. So the team gets there, they escort me into the bowling alley, and won't allow me to pay for anything. I'm thinking that's weird. We start to bowl and having fun, cheering each other on. Everyone got a drink and they wanted to make a toast. I'm like "okay." So we grab our drinks and we make a toast to a great season and great friends. Aspiring and fitting. Then they pull me in the middle and Mark S. starts talking about me being a captain. My eyes start circling the team around me, "what is going on here?" He's saying a speech about me being captain, ME, and I'm totally getting teary-eyed. I'm so shocked, and they say so many things that truly touched me, I'm so honored. But then they pull out a plague and present it to me, and by this time I'm completely bawling in the middle of Bowlmor Lanes. I'm completely surprised by this gift of respect, and the stress of being captain fades away and things start to look up for the team. TEAM had a whole new meaning, it filled my heart. We might not have been the best team in our division but we had a respectable record that season when it was all said and done. Also it represented a time where my optimism, being test and pushed to limits, remained intact.

"I Can't Stand Still" (FOOTLOOSE)

Last night was a return to watching a little bit of college volleyball action. It's early in the season for the AVCA-ranked Division III NYU Violets. I started watching the NYU teams back in April 2004 after Peter S., my info guru on all things volleyball, mentioned something about their matches, so I decided to check them out. That season would be followed by the women's matches in the fall, and at just about any home match since then you would find me there. It's hard to describe the draw to those matches besides the obvious factor, but it was a chance to learn more about the game.

I realized that in order to improve, one must observe then adjust. I needed to do exactly that because I was still a beginner. I needed to correctly learn the basic skills. Since I didn't have any coaching in the sport and playing in the league matches left little room for instruction, I had to find some way to learn the basics. I was teaching myself which sometimes is not the best way. Since I was new to the sport, I did not have a clue about clinics and such from leagues like Gotham to train wit. So watching the college matches was my display and I learned from it. Obviously, I was not doing things like the men and women on those teams, but I was able to witness body position and movement that helped me greatly. So last night I continued my support of the Violets for another season and who was there with me to cheer/heckle Peter S. and Amy.

I actually had a full night of volleyball. I got through two games of the NYU match, and then I went from the Coles Center down on Mercer and Bleecker up to Brearly HS on 87th St and 1st Ave to catch another match at 8pm. Now this was a men's match that had several supporters there, and I made it just in time. Now I completely shout a cheer, clap my hands, and make a lot of noise for a game, especially a good one, but when it comes to being a close game, the points tied up as it reaches the cap in a rally game, I totally freak out and get nervous. This happened in the second game of this one match I watched, and I was completely gasping for air with each point. Not a good thing to be around me when that happens because sometimes I can't look but the suspense is killing me and I look anyway. That is what sucks about being a spectator because the team keeps their cool as they play each point yet I'm pacing and screeching with each point. Thankfully, they pulled it out and came from being down 16-23 to winning 27-26. Way to go team Five Old, One Young. Then I jumped on the bus and made it crosstown to Brandeis on the westside to watch DFA, a late-starter match which worked out for me. They had a rough start but provided better results in the latter part of the match.

So someone asked me why I would go to all of these games, jumping all over town in a single night. And I just said to them, "Why not?"

SCORECARD:
Kevin and Knut's Team (Hit It and Quit It): 1-2

"For Good" (WICKED)

So last night I cheered on a team at their regular league match, and I couldn't help notice the camaraderie on the opponent's team. It was a team you could tell had played together for several seasons. It was commented by more than myself, and I was impressed with the opponent's willingness to trust each other on the court, playing their positions well and communicating when they needed a little help. It was not a strong team, but it operated like a well-oiled machine, clearly executed plays and solid defense.

I've witness many teams that have played season after season together, building upon the skills and personality of each player to create their own identity. It has been some time since I was with a team that stayed together more than one season since my first team. Move ahead a couple of seasons down the road, I was lucky enough to team up with some friends and I felt we had reached a close knit team after a few seasons together (summer 2004 through spring 2005). Watching that opponent team last night reminded me of that team. We were called different names--"100% Spike Proof" and "What's Old's, New Again." Cheesy names, yes, but I tried to be clever with the team names and obviously failed miserably. We played in the Big City league, and it was my college friend Barbara, her then-boyfriend-and-future husband Mark, their family friend Mark, in addition to Jerome, Bob, and Sue from that Sunday backcourt crew. This team actually came about when Sue and I were talking about forming a team when we saw a performance of WICKED that June. We realized we only had a few days to put the team together and luckily those we had asked came aboard, and I served as captain (again). I do like having the organizational cap, but I forgot how much emotional baggage comes along with that cap.

We won a few, lost more than our share, had a few arguments, and even an injury but we always stood together as a team. That injury involved Sue. It happened simple enough, we were playing at this crappy gym up on 88th just off Park Avenue, and she went up to tap the ball over the net, reaching high with her hand. When she came down, she immediately walked off the court and kept circling with her hand clasped to her stomach. We kept asking if she was alright but she wouldn't let us look at the hand. She just kept repeating "give me a minute, leave me alone" so we called a time-out. We thought she just jammed her finger, but we were wrong. She finally stopped circling and let us look at her finger, she held it up for all of us to see--it was bent at a 45 degree angle. Not a pretty sight and I'm sure it hurt like hell, but she did not cry or scream, she just said "I need to get to a hospital." The refereee let us have an extended time-out and we grabbed her stuff and Barbara, Anne, and I took her to get a cab. For some reason, it was the hardest thing to find a cab at that moment. We were running up Park Avenue at three different points while Sue just stood at the corner, completely in pain but again showing little discomfort. She handled it beautifully. We finally got her into a cab and we went back into the gym. We won the next two games for Sue, and after the game, the team went to the hospital to wait with her. Her finger was broken and they just popped it back into place. As we sat in the waiting area, I felt grateful for that team at that moment because it was moments like that where the team took care of each other, and if it had been me with the injury they would have done the same thing. Support on the court and off the court.

I miss those guys and we don't see each other enough. Most of them don't play with a league team anymore and some haven't touched a volleyball in almost two years. With busy schedules, it is hard to even see one person just for a get together, sometimes it just doesn't work out. Sue and I have been trying to get together for dinner, coffee, a movie or anything for over a year now, but it's just how things are. Still I have the memories.

SCORECARD
Viewed Matches
NYU Men's vs. Vassar College: 3-0
Ray and Mike's Team (Five Old, One Young): 3-0
Dave and Hui's Team (DFA): 2-1

"The Past Is Another Land" (AIDA)

I'll admit that I love the game of volleyball, and I'm definitely a better cheerleader/supporter than actual player. I got a loud voice that works better than my passing skills. So this season I've been attending friends' games to show my support. Right now I've caught 7 teams' matches in the first couple of weeks of play. They've been working out schedule wise but I haven't look at this week to see how the schedule will work, it worked out so great last week.

So where did I leave off? Oh, yeah, so by the summer of 2004, I was starting to feel the comfortness of playing with the group, but I also knew that what we once had on Sundays at Brandeis may not be reached again. Since Brandeis Sundays closed for the summer, we would try to get together for some outdoor play but somehow the less structured option did not bring out the same numbers. Pretty soon, we were only hearing from people through email and at occasional parties for birthdays and the such. I continued going to open play on Fridays at Brandeis, and it was a different atmosphere and crowd. The same comfortness was not there, and I had fallen back into a rut. I showed up at 7pm, played around on the backcourt, not much social interaction, and then left. I had only shown up to play and that was it.

But when I would walk out at the end of the evening on those Friday nights, I would see all these cliques go in their own directions. I swear you could have written this scene in a movie where the camera would pull upward as the cliques left and standing under a lone streetlamp would be my large figure in the center. I couldn't help feel a little sad that I didn't have a "clique," but I accepted that that was how things were, content with life's played-out destiny, so far. These "cliques" may have been teams or just friends hanging out after the open play. Yes, they do exist even today. And I may be viewed as being part of one today, but I hope that people think that I don't fit into that categorization. I remember how a few cliques made me feel when I played on those backcourts. They were not the most friendly cliques, and I would get stuck playing with their team. It was a little uncomfortable, and cold is the best way to describe their reception. I remember one night leaving that gym feeling a bit down because of the treatment I received. How could I let people affect me that way, we were grown-ups, not in middle school. But life is still made up of those kinds of people. I hope to never make people feel like that. It didn't stop me from going and I just struggled on. I still see one particular clique sometimes as they still play as a team in one of the leagues, but they don't come to Brandeis anymore. I actually encountered them a few times (about a year later) as we were opponents in our league play, and I remember the first time we played them. Most of that team didn't even remember me, not that I would expect them to, but they're only redeeming quality was their captain who turned out to be a nice person NOW. My team completely dominated, a little sweet revenge. I have to tell you that those days seem so long ago, and hopefully I have grown and learned from that.

Fast forward to present: I have to say that my friends from open play (Sunday and Friday completely mesh together nowadays) completely get my crazy self. I have been just enthusiastically supporting the movie, DREAMGIRLS, my 7th time. Going with friends to make sure they see it and I'm enjoying it every single time. After open play, I took a couple of friends to see it, and a couple of other friends who I had already taken to see it came along to see it again. We saw it at the Ziegfeld Theatre which is the only place in the city to see a movie musical. Of course, I cried at totally different times but the show still gets to me. Afterwards, I named my friends based on the number I saw the movie with them, Lisa and Ray--No. 7s, Dee--No. 5, and Mary Z.--No. 4. And in return, they were calling me--it was a toss-up--Broadway or Effie White. It is something random that I appreciate even more because of where I've been.

SCOREBOARD
Stefan & Claire's Team (One Hit Wonders):

"Family" (DREAMGIRLS)

So let me look at the social network that seemed to be developing on that backcourt. Seems that everybody there had some sort of story that lead them to volleyball and our little group. We were mostly transplants, living in the city because of a job or new challenges, and our home and/or family were distant. Everybody was so supportive and friendly and that spilled over into an email list that was started by Peter Sell. Those emails contained game recaps, announcements, party invites, and comments. The group had turned into something special very similar to my theatre group--they had become my support.

About a year before I had read a book that described my theatre group and the same results were happening with the volleyball group. The book was by Ethan Watters called Urban Tribes: A generation redefines friendship, family, and commitment (Bloomsbury 2003). In the book Watters describes the urban tribe as "an intricate community of young people who live and work together in various combinations, form regular rituals, and provide the same kind of support as an extended family."


Here we were taking part in a social trend in our generation where the commonality of our group has always been volleyball. Below are a few excerpts from the book regarding my perspective as to how we fit into this social trend:
"Not long ago, the course of one's life would, in all likelihood, be an expression of one's class and group membership. How exciting that we had the freedom to shape our lives to be an expression of personal character" (9).
"We were a curious new breed, those of us treading water in the cities--outside of our families of origin and seemingly unwilling to begin famlies for ourselves. We were interested in (often devoted to) our careers and avocations, but we stayed strangely off the social map in other ways. Devotion to blood ties didn't seem to interest us enough to stay in our hometowns, and the idea of finding community among our neighbors was a quaint anachronism" (19).
"Gossip was more efficient in another way. When three or four members of a social group get together and share information about other group members' personal relationships, they are passing along important information that allows us to know other members of the group better. Without the information transmitted through gossip our group size would likely be limited, because each group member would have to spend more time personally observing the behavior of every other group member" (67).

That backcourt was limited to 24 players, all smiling faces and infectious laughter, but we would leave over the next few months and years, and the encounters would be few and far between (chances to play volleyball had been difficult after Brandeis closes for the summer), but that support would always be there. I continued going to Brandeis regularly over the next few years, but the people from that backcourt group moved on. Still I count some of those people as the best there is, amazing beyond words and special in my heart. The term "urban tribe" still applies to my life. It's just that the faces have changed and for that I'm truly grateful.

SCORECARD
Brandeis Open Play