Just got home from coaching yet another sports practice. Tonight it was 4th grade volleyball, the team my youngest daughter plays on. Tomorrow it's varsity volleyball, the team my two oldest daughters play on. In sum, I've coached five different teams in two different sports this school year. I think tonight was the 483rd practice I've run since August....give or take.
Fourth graders and volleyball - a combination so deadly it's been outlawed in 14 states and at least two continents. "Line up on the red line," we call, they run to the blue. We say "Toss the ball high!", they toss to a partner's ankles. They never stop talking during drill work, then won't say a word to call a ball on the court during game play. Serving practice is like an explosion in a fireworks factory with projectiles flying every which way but in the court. Honestly, there are at least three times in every practice when I'd rather be dangling from a gibbet than standing in the middle of the vomit of volleyballs. However....
I love coaching. For every ounce of frustration there's a pound of pride when athletes leap forward in their skill development. I've got an entry, a much longer entry, just itching to be written for this blog on the joys of coaching vs. the drudgery of teaching. But not tonight. For tonight I simply want to wrap this entry up, start thinking ahead to tomorrow's practice, and enjoy the solitude of a structure that has no bouncing balls anywhere near it. As well as allow you the time to find out what a "gibbet" is.
Until tomorrow.......
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