The Time in Between

We all experience the “time in between.”  It’s that time spent in your doctor’s office waiting room, stuck in a long line at the DMV, or waiting at a gate for your flight.

It’s the time after you were doing something that mattered, but not quite yet when you’ll start doing something that matters again.

It doesn’t matter if we’re waiting for something dreadful or exciting – people waiting in line for a roller coaster have the same look as those in line at the DMV – because the “time in between” is still considered a waste of time.

We have ways of filling the time in between.  We check our phone, zone out, and check our social media. We people-watch, play a game on our phones, look at our reflection in a window, and check our phone until we finally start worrying about our battery level.  (*Generation gap moment: in the days before cell phones we only had “Hi-lights” magazines in the doctor’s office, and I’m sorry this generation won’t ever know the thrill of finding all of the 10 hidden objects.)

Even though we may fill the time in between, we’re really not doing anything useful with that time.

We have the “time in between” at school and in athletics too.  This is that time at school where we’re waiting for AP and final exams, end-of-year events, and graduation.  Waiting for summer vacation, waiting to go to college, waiting for the weather to change.  Waiting.

Your team may be waiting too.  Both teams in most contests at this time of the year are waiting: the successful team is waiting for the regular season to end so they can get to something meaningful (the playoffs), and the team with a losing record is just simply waiting for the season to end.  Waiting for the “time in between” to end.

Which would be fine, except for the fact that the one thing we all want is more time.

Perhaps we all have been given just enough time to do what we’re supposed to do.  It might be that we don’t always recognize the extra time we have … because it’s hidden in between the things we think are more important.

Maybe this “time in between” is where we’re supposed to reconnect with a classmate, get to know a teacher better, and to work on some academic skills that will prepare us to be successful in college.  Maybe this is the time to offer sincere gratitude to our mentors, or to work on leaving a positive legacy at our school.

Maybe this time is where we’re supposed to work on those skills we never get around to training because we’re distracted by competition.  Maybe we should try a new position, experiment with creative play, change up practice plans, or revisit team goals from the beginning of the season.  This might be the time to find a role for the player who has been ignored, to encourage a disillusioned coach or teammate, or to offer mentorship for younger players.

The “time in between” is the time to make yourself better, or make someone else better.  The time to recommit to what you want to do, hope to do, dream to do.  Play, smile and laugh.  Reflect, think, and imagine.

The “time in between” isn’t a waste of time, it’s a gift.  It’s time we do something with it.

-Jason Curtis

Seeking the Challenge

Everyone wants the “perfect” season … but we might not agree on what a perfect season looks like.

My perfect season is one where we lose some tough matches.  The perfect season has quite a few practices that don’t go smoothly, and we struggle to reach our goal in challenging drills.  My perfect season also has some parent meetings with challenging questions, inconveniences in travel, and some interpersonal difficulties and growth that force us to work as a team.

If we have a “perfect season,” where every practice and game goes our way, then we’ve made practices too easy and we’ve scheduled below our potential.  As Tom Hirshfield noted, “If you hit the target every time then it is either too near or too big.”

Seth Godin in his latest blog post reminds us how we learn to ride a bike: “Actually, by not doing it. You learn by doing it wrong, by falling off, by getting back on, by doing it again.”  How unreasonable it would be to expect our child to learn how to ride a bike without falling, and how ridiculous it would be to expect a season to be without challenges.

Improvement is inextricable from challenges.  You don’t ride the rainbow to the pot of gold – it’s at the end of a long, tiring journey.  The reason why learning to ride a bike is so memorable for both the child and parent is precisely because it’s difficult, scary and frustrating.

We want our players, coaches and parents to demonstrate a positive response to adversity.  Yet, we forget that the response is always better when we have sought the challenge, rather than feeling that a difficulty has been thrust upon us.  If parents gave up on teaching their child to ride a bike the first time they fell off, Schwinn would have been out of business years ago.

Instead of team goals that only include the positive, consider including the reality that your team is likely to lose some matches and have bad practices.  Be excited about the opportunity to challenge your team to the extent that you might have to work through team dynamics and explain processes to parents.  Be willing to be patient and steadfast through the challenge.

It’s the challenge that makes the journey and the destination better, richer, and more fulfilling.

The only thing better than finishing a drill, is getting to a goal that your team didn’t feel they could reach.

The only thing better than beating a team, is defeating a team that you couldn’t figure out in the beginning of the season.

The only thing better than getting a high grade on a test, is acing an exam in the class where you’ve had difficulty mastering the material.

The only thing better than seeing your child or player succeed, is seeing them be successful in something that they just couldn’t do earlier.

Seek the challenge.

-Jason Curtis

Showing Up Matters

UNC forward Luke Maye made national headlines twice in 12 hours: first, for hitting a last second shot to propel the Tar Heels into the Final Four, and then again for showing up to his 8:00am Business class just hours after returning to Chapel Hill from the Regional Championship game in Memphis.

Nobody would have blamed Maye for skipping the class.  As a player who committed to play at UNC without the guarantee of a scholarship, and didn’t even play in last year’s National Championship game, he had just hit the biggest shot of his life.  The kind of shot that every kid who grows up in North Carolina dreams of hitting when they’re shooting hoops on their driveway deep into the night.  The kind of shot that gets Twitter admiration from Christian Laettner, presumably not a big Tar Heel fan and the author of the most replayed shot in tournament history (maybe surpassed by Villanova’s Kris Jenkins and his championship-winning buzzer beater last year?).  The kind of shot that might earn you a lifetime of free meals at Al’s Burger Shack on Franklin Street.  The kind of shot that, at the very least, would give you a pass from having to attend class at 8:00am the next morning.

Except, he decided to show up.  After a physically and mentally grueling game, media obligations and a late flight home, he showed up to class.  As one online commenter confessed, “I only watched the game and couldn’t make it to class the next day.”

Our volleyball team will be playing in Atlanta this weekend.  After 3 days of tough competition, too many snack bags, navigating a massive convention center, and 14+ hours of bus travel, we’ll likely get home at around midnight on Sunday night.  All of us: players, coaches and parents, will have to decide whether we will show up to school and work on Monday.

I hope we show up.

Showing up matters. It matters because every time we take the easy way out, the next excuse comes a little easier.  Skipping reps, not putting in the extra work, or avoiding a work or social obligation gets easier every time we do it, and we eventually find ourselves spending more time avoiding responsibilities than actually meeting them.

Showing up matters, because other people care that you’re there.  People know when we’ve made the effort, and it shows care and respect for others.  We may not feel like being at training or a conference, but our presence is important for the success of others.  We bring talents, skills and experience, and when we skip out we cheat others out of the opportunity to grow and improve.

Showing up matters, because it demonstrates gratitude for the opportunity.  When we complain about having to go to class, practice or our job, we forget that there are people who would do anything for the opportunity to go to college, play on our team, or gain employment.  Gratitude, like love, takes effort, commitment and practice.

Showing up matters, because every day and every event is an opportunity, not a burden.  That meeting, practice or class might offer inspiration, a new personal connection, or a dramatic change in perspective for us.  We’ll only know if we go.

I hope we show up.

-Jason Curtis

My Favorite Team

In each of my 25 seasons of coaching volleyball, I have had one team that is my favorite team of all time. This one.

My greatest joy of coaching is in the journey of each season and what the athletes take with them moving forward. I would like to take the opportunity to communicate to my current team and all of my past teams that I am beyond grateful for what they have left behind with their coach.

Within each season, there are lessons to be learned, challenges to overcome, and triumphs to share. Most importantly though, there are the people we meet along the way who stay with us forever. May we never lose sight of all that we gain by what we give to each other.

-Mike Schall

Youth Sports: What I Care About

My kids love sports. Currently, my oldest daughter plays club volleyball, my two sons play in a YMCA basketball league, and my youngest daughter goes to “practice” (say it in an Allen Iverson voice) once per week to learn how to play volleyball. They play other sports too but these are our current “seasons.”

I love that they love sports. I watch when I can but when I’m not there, life does go on. I don’t want my presence to have any impact on the joy they receive from playing or the effort that they give to their teams. Don’t get me wrong, I go to as many games as I can but if I have a conflict, neither I nor my kids are bothered.

When I watch, I watch. When a good play is made by any player on either team, I clap to acknowledge the play – that’s it – the game isn’t about the parents who are watching from the sidelines. I like seeing kids learn things on their own, discover how to interact with teammates and coaches, and get better at winning and losing. Gasp – losing. I want them to lose? No – I don’t WANT them to lose but I have been involved in sports long enough to realize it’s a potential outcome of competition. So, if I don’t truly care if my kids win or lose their games, what do I care about?

I care about how they respond: To wins. To losses. To injuries. To mistakes. To sitting on the bench. To bad calls. To conflict. To fatigue. To feeling overwhelmed, unmotivated, or lacking confidence. I care how they respond and sports provides a fantastic experiential learning opportunity.

I care about how they learn: I want them to become good learners. I want them to learn skills, team concepts, and the rules and strategies of the sport they are playing. More importantly, I want them to learn how they learn.

I care about how they communicate: Real human communication. I want them to communicate with their teammates, their coaches, and with other adults like referees, tournament directors, and volunteers who make their experience possible. There has been nothing in my children’s lives that has helped them to become better communicators than their participation in sports.

I care about how they lead: Sports provide my kids with opportunities to speak publicly, to motivate those around them, and to teach others. In addition, sports allow kids to play different roles which is an essential leadership skill as they continue to grow.

My kids have won and lost plenty to know the difference and to also know that the sun has always come up the next day regardless of the result. The outcomes I am most interested in are the joy they give and receive to their team through competition, the relationships that develop and last a lifetime as a result of being on a team, and the experience they have of being part of something bigger than themselves. I also want them to recognize that hard work is its own reward and never guarantees a successful outcome.

-Mike Schall

Coach Life

Depending on who you talk to, or what day of the week it is, I’m either the head coach of a fifth grade girls’ basketball team or the assistant coach of that same fifth grade team.  I have the chance, this year, unexpectedly, to coach Recreational Basketball [Rec Ball] at this level.  It’s… intense. My life before Rec Ball was, in hindsight, simple, quiet, normal, borderline unimportant.  Now?  Well, let me explain…

Emails.  If one believes being added as a recipient to any email list denotes prestige or purpose, then I have newly found purpose and loads of prestige.  On a nearly daily basis I now receive emails related to all forms of Rec League management, scheduling, addendums, procedures, and the like.  As my life used to simply roll along with no knowledge of such intricacies, it now has intimate knowledge of gym availability, talent show conflicts, and jersey distribution snafus.  While I used to walk through my day job making idle chitchat and giving the stock-standard ‘good’ or ‘not bad’ response to the ‘how’s it going?’ question, I now answer such a simple question with panicked tones of, ‘my day?!? How’s it going?!? Mt. Lebanon Physical Plant has a ventilator issue in the rooftop HVAC unit at Hoover and the 4th grade practice scheduled for 6:00 has to be moved to Howe which is ALREADY dealing with a parking lot overflow issue due to parent-teacher conferences! How do you think my day is going?!? How do you think…. it’s going?!?”. Emails have done this; they’re to blame.

Team Name.  On a team of nine [which is the perfect number for a basketball team- easily divisible by two] trying to select, offer, and/or vote upon a team name proved challenging.  When my wife and I decided upon names for each of our three children, a decision that would linger with them their entire lifetime, I don’t know that I had nearly the level of stress and anxiety as managing the process of offering, voting, and selecting a team name.  The team name, which is never listed on a scheduled, rarely chanted by the parents in the stands, and remains with the team for only the six or so weeks of the season, had more emotional fallout than Prom.  Girls who suggested a name that was eventually selected, they beamed with confidence and appreciation.  Girls who offered a name that was turned down, they became disillusioned with the democratic stylings and likely will never vote when older.

Position.  Each girl wants to play 1.  Point Guard.  They want to bring the ball up, call the play, dribble more.  If you didn’t know better, and I didn’t, you’d think the other four positions were of total unimportance to the offensive strategies of a team.

Plays. Dreaming up and designing plays for a 5th grade basketball team is fun; in the theory of it, it’s fun.  The idea that you’ve designed a play that will manage movement, distribute the ball purposefully, create space… it’s wonderful; that’s in theory.  In execution?  Let me explain the offensive play: “1”.  The point guard calls ‘1!’.  The 2 comes and sets a pick allowing the 1 to dribble right. Timing the pick and movement perfectly, the 4 then crosses the lane to set a pick for 5 who, waiting patiently for the ensuing pick, then comes across the lane towards the ball-side and receive a pass, either chest or bounce, from the 1. All the while, the 3 remains distanced in an effort to create space for the play to run… eventually coming to the foul line– only after 5 receives the pass–in an effort to provide an outlet or pursue a rebound.  That’s the theory.  In reality, the point guard might as well yell ‘Fire!’ as they come across the line, sending all players, and some spectators, into a frenzied rush colliding with others around them in a desperate search for safety.  It’s, um, not the same as you see it in your mind.

I could go on, trust me.  Substitutions based on height, oversized jerseys that fit like trash bags, 8:10 pm practices that feel like… wait for it… herding cats. I could go on.  But you know what… I really like it.  I do.  I don’t know the names of other coaches like other coaches do.  I don’t know which team has that girl who “should be playing travel”, and I don’t know the score, ever, of the games that we play since the scoreboard never operates [and I’m too busy trying to make sure everyone gets a chance to play 1].  I never thought this would be my life and, depending on the day or who you ask, my coaching title varies.  Still, I love it.

-Tom Mooney

Making Our Case

In the January 23rd issue of Sports Illustrated, Seth Davis writes about the trend of high school basketball players leaving high school in their senior year so that they can start playing in college earlier.  In “The Case for … Starting College Early,” Davis writes about the Auburn coaching staff approaching a recruit in his junior year at Spain Park High in Alabama.  They encouraged Austin Wiley’s family to arrange an early graduation by transferring to Calusa Prep in Miami while playing basketball for The Conrad Academy in Orlando until he enrolled at Auburn and played in his first game last December.  By my count, that’s four different schools in less than 12 months.

Auburn coach Bruce Pearl argues that players heading to college early “get college coaching” “a meaningful off-season” and “closer to a degree.”  The NCAA appreciates the latter argument, asserting on its website that “the ultimate goal of the college experience is graduation.”  Yet, less than half of Auburn’s men’s basketball players who enrolled in 2009 had earned a degree from Auburn University by 2016 (according to 2016 US Department of Education Federal Graduation Rate statistics).

Kentucky coach John Calipari, who helped 18-year-old Hamidou Diallo enroll at UK this spring even though he may enter the NBA draft next year without ever playing a minute for the Wildcats, added: “If a young man is 18 and has a chance to go to college as an 18-year old, he should do it.  I don’t know why you wouldn’t.”

Unless you consider that only 29% of Wildcat men’s basketball players who enrolled in the school in 2009 earned a University of Kentucky degree by 2016.  To be fair, a record number of Kentucky players left college early to play in the NBA, likely a far more lucrative option than many of their Kentucky classmates had even with a degree.  Kentucky is the outlier however: only 1% of NCAA men’s basketball players actually have the opportunity to play in the NBA.

Click image. NCAA screenshot shows graduation rates vs. professional playing opportunities.  Yes, those are multiple typographical errors on the NCAA website touting the academic success of college student-athletes.

Coach Calipari previously asserted that the advancement of his players’ personal goals is paramount, even more than winning a national championship: “[My mission is] to be the vehicle that helps others reach their dreams, be the stone that creates the ripple in their lives that goes on and on and on.”

Sounds a lot like what we’re trying to do in high school education.  So why do these college basketball coaches feel so confident in publicly dismissing the value of the senior year experience in high school?

It’s not just college football and basketball: we are experiencing this phenomenon in volleyball.  High school student-athletes are increasingly seeking to leave high school early and enroll in college during what would be the spring semester of their senior year, and in response to decreasing participation USA Volleyball has moved up the National Championships for the 18s division, holding the tournament two months before all other age divisions.

I believe that college coaches are doing this for many of the right reasons.  They correctly assert that college coaches have more time and resources to dedicate to the training of student-athletes, including strength, conditioning, nutrition and academic programs.  Certainly having more time with their student-athletes on campus can improve the team dynamic, and college coaches can more quickly identify and address problems with student-athletes during off-season training.

On the other hand, college coaches don’t articulate the disadvantages of transitioning a student months before the rest of their freshman class comes on campus, or address the national statistics that indicate that more students every year are entering college unprepared academically and socially.  Many college coaches bemoan the lack of focus, leadership and program commitment from incoming players, while underestimating the abilities of high school and club coaches who could help form those characteristics.

If I were a college coach, I would want more time with my players too.  The tremendous pressures on athletic programs and the significant responsibilities of players and coaches makes every day with a college team important.

However, as a high school educator, I also want more time to help form these talented young people.  As seniors they can engage in a more personalized academic environment to prepare them for a university classroom.  They should spend time with mentors on campus who can challenge them to become active contributors and leaders, committed to leaving a positive legacy in their high schools.  They should work with coaches who have grown to know them and their families well and can assist them in developing life balance that will be essential in the pressure-packed world of intercollegiate athletics.  They must become mentors and teachers themselves, so that they are prepared to assume that role in college and later in life.  In short: they need to develop the characteristics that universities and intercollegiate athletics programs claim to seek in prospective students, but may be in fact keeping them from gaining by enrolling them in college too early.

Early enrollment isn’t the fault of college coaches or universities.  The fact that nobody is willing or able to articulate the value of the academic, athletic and social formation during the senior year of high school falls squarely on the shoulders of high school administrators, teachers and coaches.  Have we become too comfortable allowing or even enabling “senioritis?”  Has our willingness to allow twelfth graders to coast through classes, practices and competitions rendered the experience expendable?  Have we missed an important leadership opportunity by not pressing seniors into significant responsibilities to care for and lead younger athletes?  In short, are we failing our students by providing a poor senior year experience?

This is a wake-up call for us to examine the senior year in high school classrooms and gymnasiums, and to commit ourselves to providing an exceptional experience making sure that every student and family knows how important the 12th grade is to their short and long-term future.

As Pearl argues, “Why discourage someone from taking advantage of an opportunity to better himself?”

I couldn’t agree more. Shame on us if a student’s senior year in high school doesn’t offer an outstanding chance to better themselves.

It’s time for high school educators to make the case for a high school senior year that every student can’t afford to miss.

-Jason Curtis

Learning by Doing

Over the Christmas holiday, I did an experiment with my two sons. Sam just turned 13 and Andrew is now 9. They like to play – whatever is in season – they like to play. Neither has played much “organized” basketball (whatever that means) but instead enjoy playing with their neighborhood friends in our driveway.

One evening, long after the sun had set, I heard basketballs still being dribbled in the driveway. I walked through the garage to find the boys still shooting and I told them I would play “21” with them. Growing up, it was the game my older brother Jim tortured me with. He was a dead eye shooter and I was, well…I was good on defense. I didn’t win many games of 21 growing up on Brinker Street. It’s a simple game in which a free throw is worth 2 points and a layup is worth 1. If the shooter makes both shots they keep going. If the shooter misses the 2 pointer, they still get to attempt the layup for 1 point but then it’s the next shooter’s turn. The game is played to 21.

Because I love for my kids to stay curious about learning new things, I told them that the layup had to be left handed. They hesitated. I knew exactly why they balked at the idea. They didn’t want to miss, didn’t want to lose, and weren’t confident in their ability to consistently make a left handed layup. So, I tried something with them that would encourage them to go for it. I knew that I had to take away the fear of failure – it’s real and I understand it.

For our game on this night, I made a deal with the boys. If they attempted a left handed layup, they got a point. They didn’t have to make it – just attempt it. We played for another hour and every time they attempted a left handed layup, they got their point. A few things started to happen…

  • They got excited about trying a left handed layup. In fact, they saw absolutely no reason to shoot a right handed layup.
  • They made mistakes – both in jumping off the wrong foot and missing more shots than they were making.
  • They got better at it every game.

I estimate that they attempted one hundred left handed layups. By the end of the night, both boys looked very natural – and they started to have success. They weren’t perfect at it but they got a lot better. That wasn’t the best part. The best part came after I went inside only to find the boys wanted to stay out longer and keep practicing.

So, how do we apply this experiment to coaching and teaching?

  • Create an environment in which risk taking is encouraged (1 point for attempting the left handed layup).
  • Emphasize process over result (each of my sons took 100 shots).
  • Recognize that mistakes will be made. Encourage and reward a demonstrated commitment to trying something new regardless of outcome.

Below is the video of when I came back outside and saw the boys practicing.

-Mike Schall

What Do You Want to Be When You’re Younger?   

This blog aims to write about the ways we should relate to students, to athletes, to children.  Even in its relatively short lifespan, this blog wants to promote the idea of building positivity and finding the ways adult life and childhood can generate such benefit and joy.  I think, then, that it’s worth remembering that age is only a number, you’re only as old as you feel, and other things I know you’ve read in a recent stroll through Hallmark.  Of course, it’s true- it’s all true.  So, with that in mind, ask yourself: what do you want to be when you’re younger?

If you can manage to stave off age, if you can feel the energy and the wonder of ideas and anticipations, and if you know that you consciously attempt to play and explore, then you are well on your way to getting younger.  There is a lot in the media about coaches and managers who create playful atmospheres, even at the professional level, and it always reminds me that even those that seem beyond such things still thrive in such atmospheres.  It’s then that I silently ask myself if I’m doing that enough at the house, in the classroom.  The answer is usually a mix of answers an angst—I would… I wanted to- but… I thought I’d start… and so on.

If I want to get younger, I’m responsible for that.  If I can bring that attitude of positivity and drive, then it might work.  If I just dust off the very things- the hobbies, the creative larks, the play-for-play’s sake- I generally put on the shelf, I’ll stay younger longer. I think we all can stay younger, we just forget to try.

This isn’t second star to the right, this isn’t Benjamin Button, this is making an effort enough times that it becomes nature, habit, life.  What can it hurt… we all know life can be fun, so make it so.

-Tom Mooney

Facing the Firing Squad

For the relatively low cost of an admission wristband to your local convention center volleyball tournament, you can participate in the volleyball equivalent of natural selection: hitting lines.

Unlike high school and college volleyball where the back-and-forth exchange of the court for 46 combined warmup drills often takes longer than the actual match, in club volleyball you get a grand total of 4 minutes to fix every passing, setting, attacking and serving problem before playing.

In recent years it has become a requirement of good coaching etiquette to offer your team as child labor to retrieve the volleyballs for the opposing team, a task that they will approach with the same enthusiasm as if they were chosen as tribute for the Hunger Games.  You’ll notice that no coaches volunteer themselves for this risky endeavor.

And who are the unfortunate souls sitting in the seats, being protected by this uninspired Children’s Crusade?

Moms who are scrutinizing the chaperone’s performance in the vital areas of snack bag assembly, laundering jerseys constructed of magical space-age fibers, and relaying pool play information that we should have all found ourselves.  Dads discussing yesterday’s game and the length of today’s Starbucks line with another father whose daughter has been on our team for 7 years but we have absolutely no idea what his name is because we’ve been calling him buddy/pal/man/hey you for all these years.  Coaches who are discussing [insert unbelievably boring volleyball stuff here].  Officials waiting for the next match, wondering if it’s worth trying to get back to the hospitality room before they have to get up on the stand, and what did they did wrong in a previous life to make this match go to 3 games.  Younger siblings facing away from the court drinking a smoothie and watching Disney re-runs on the iPad for the 974th time.  And most horrifying of all: kindly grandmothers who have brought their reading glasses, their flip-phone and a coffee … the only breakable item Grams left at home was her collection of Hummel figurines.

You’ve seen this movie before: a gasoline tanker, a cement truck and a Prius are all approaching an intersection with a malfunctioning stoplight.

We already know that the “shaggers” won’t actually stop a single ball, and in this volleyball version of Angry Birds the hitting lines start picking off the unsuspecting spectators in increasing levels of creativity and mayhem.

Like the wide variety of “prevent defenses” employed in the NFL, volleyball players have come up with a beautiful array of creative ways to make sure that they… Prevent. Absolutely. Nothing.

Here are the 5 most popular shagging-but-not-really-shagging moves guaranteed to blow up your latte:

The “Woah, Didn’t See That Coming!”: Players are usually surprised when the opposing team starts hitting.  Even though the novice-shaggers lined up on the endline for no apparent reason, and the other team is stocked for 4 minutes of chaos with a setter, 6 volleyballs, and a line of wildly inaccurate hitters lined up and foaming at the mouth, it still comes as a surprise when that first hitter sends one your way.  Spoiler alert: hitting lines is more than a clever name.  Even more shocking: the player behind her might hit one too!

The “Soccer Wall”: Just like in soccer, athletes will only remember at the very last second that they’d rather get hit in the backside with a projectile, rather than risking their future modeling career with “Molten” tattooed on their forehead.  So, like a Brazilian superstar with beautiful hair and only one name, our pseudo-shaggers turn around as the ball bounces their way.  Unfortunately, us mere mortals in the seats don’t have goalie gloves and years of training to handle the incoming missiles.  So much for our modeling careers.

The “Hackey-Sack”: Unless you’re on tour with Phish or living in a Berkeley commune, you look silly standing around kicking your feet in the air, especially when you miss the ball as often as our faux-shaggers.  Hey volleyball player: there’s a reason you didn’t make the soccer team and it has less to do with your reluctance to run more than 30 feet and everything to do with the fact that your feet are so far away from your brain that they don’t actually do anything useful when you kick at the ball.  I’ve never met a volleyball player named Pelé … for good reason.

The “Hey, We’re Talking Here”: The pinnacle of rudeness, many attackers have broken up a serious conversation about a teammate’s gorgeous brother who has come to watch the tournament and even though he hasn’t stopped looking at his phone I just know that he came to watch me play and does my hair look good and … HEY!  An angry look toward the hitting lines tells the offending outside hitter that “this is an A-B conversation, and you need to C yourself hitting somewhere else.”

The “Walmart Greeter”: Other than a friendly smile and a wave, I’m not exactly sure if the non-shagger is considering doing anything with the volleyball other than just waving it through.  “Welcome to hitting lines!”

You’ve been warned.

-Jason Curtis