Oh my Volley!

I still recall the painful truth of oh my volley!!! Why oh why? Why even the service I can’t do? My hands must have been deaf when I talked to it to give me at least one successful service. My hands would always fail me. Huhuhu.

Actually even in baseball, I couldn’t hit the ball with a bat. Our PE teacher got angry with me. Why can’t you do it, she demanded. I should’ve just cried in front of everyone so they knew I really didn’t know how to!!! And I still don’t!

I could withstand the torturous chemistry subject. Just not volleyball please!

Watching volleyball on Olympics, I can’t help recalling how things were for me when it came to sports. Volleyball has never been good to me. At least for basketball, I still was able to do something worthwhile for my team.

During intramurals in high school, I would just volunteer to help out with other matters save dwelling on school grounds to play.

I was in awe of my classmates who performed the spikes and the smashes and the many other athletic gestures that they had practiced on. I would cheer for them and dance for them. That I can do, openly dancing and cheering for them.

If not, during those times that I felt withdrawn, one reason or another, I would just watch from afar, not involving myself with them, with my classmates who knew how to play volleyball.

I already had my frustrations when I tried out for volleyball when we were in grade 6. And it was not a pleasant experience. I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. My father knew better discouraging me with my innocent attempt to try out for volleyball.

It was only after those attempts that I understood his message… He may have been a janitor/admin aide but he has always been an academic. His boss would give him the paper works. Imagine a janitor being responsible for typing stuffs and organizing field events. And I never heard her brag or boast of anything related to sports.

I just celebrated the victories of my classmates and also accepted their defeat. I always wanted my team to win. So if they lose, I sympathize with them.

You know my weapon? It was imagining! From among you my dear readers, there must be one who could feel my predicament.

Poor me used to just imagining that I was an awesome volleyball player. That suddenly I emerged a legendary one that everyone must be astonished at.

But I dismiss those imaginings as nothing but outrageous attempts to make me feel better.

In a way I was not sports enough into not accepting that sports has always been my weakness. I should just have accepted it that one cannot be good at everything.

During provincial meets I still had the chance to watch my team play volleyball against other municipalities. And their win has been my win and their defeat has been my defeat.

How did I find my place in provincial meet? Well, there were also academic contests like quiz bees. So since I was a quiz bee contestant, I was able to roam around, watching volleyball most of the time. I give every chance I can to show my support.

I was a real spectator but maybe, a good spectator.

We all have our own field of specialization and the best we could do is focus on our own calling. In the end I am lucky that I have something that I am good at. Even if that would be the humblest of all, at least…

But still, I would play volleyball in my own way hahaha. If I recall there were those rare moments when players were off court. When no one was looking I would serve the ball and toss and be happy with myself. Even if the ball never reached the other side of the court I still was able to delight in getting a hold of the ball.

Funny how I kept thinking about volleyball. In truth, I love it so much. It’s just that it doesn’t love me. Now we’re square with those who are saying that they love Math but Math doesn’t love them.

It was weird going into the classroom, so much prepared for the lesson feeling that you would be able to conquer anyone. You would insist you will be able to let everyone understand how to find the value of the unknown variable. But would get the response, “What the hell is she talking about?” They don’t say it out loud, it is written all over their faces. Still, since we’re acting on logic, I still do not understand how one isn’t able to… you know. But then again, same with my plight with serving the volleyball ball…