Last night I didn't sleep well. Today is the game against last year's state champions. I know my team can beat them, I just don't know if we can pull together and show everyone else that. So I stayed up, nervous and nauseous, until I fell asleep sometime after 1 AM.
Of course, sleep was no solace. Hereafter follows my nightmare.
I was playing my position quite well against my opponent. She was completely useless. (That part wasn't the bad part; that's more like a fantasy section.) Then, during a quarter break, I saw the other coach telling the girl I was guarding to "take me out," like in some cheesy sports movie. During the next play, the girl swung around and punched me in the eye.
My dream-self stayed cool. I couldn't get kicked out, not at such a crucial point in the game. I recalled the bobcat, and her attack during a similar incident. I didn't want to let my team down like that. So I didn't hit the girl back, despite how much I sincerely wanted to.
Shortly after that point, I was removed from the game. I was bleeding excessively, and it was suspected that I needed stitches. The referee had not seen the girl slug me, so she was home free. But I was not allowed to play at all, even though I had kept my temper under control. The lifeguards would not let me put on butterfly bandages and get back in the pool: they made me leave.
So not only did I not get to play, but the other girl didn't get caught and I didn't get to hit the girl back. THAT is the second worst nightmare I've ever had, and the first involved watching aliens cut my mom into 1-inch cubes. Not so happy.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Monday, April 09, 2007
Emotionally Invigorated
Excersize and competition are honestly the answer to every problem. Yes, those may involve violence, so I guess I am advocating the occasional violent act to de-stress and relax. Or get hyped up, either way. Currently, I know I am going to be out of my mind with stress tomorrow, the next day, and probably the next, but right now, at this very moment, I don't care (as seen by the fact that I'm writing a blog post instead of writing lessons plans for the practice swim lessons).
Today I went to water polo for the first time in a week (you have no idea how much that is killing me--I'm used to daily practices, not once-a-week practices). We basically scrimaged the whole time, guys on girls. All in all, the results were favorable, and I made a few conquests and a few realizations.
- Conquest #1 - I blocked/inhibited the majority of Paul's shots. Since he was first-team all-state last year, that's pretty shnazzy. I mean, so was I, but I'm a girl. Girls should not beat guys in positions where it is mainly brute stength with a bit of positioning involved.
- Conquest #2 - Jake, the senior goalie-man, tried to dunk me today (I won't go into detail as to why). He came up with a sort of lacksadaisical look on his face, like dunking me would be no problem and a funny thing to do. Ha! I'll show you, Mr. Goalie-Man! I managed to keep my head up during the initial shove, then I locked with his arm and wrestled him around until he was under the water. The was done, of course, in view of everybody. Mr. Goalie-Man got schooled by a girl. In a wrestling match. Take that. I spit in his face when he came up for air, and he sulked back to his goal in relative silence. Mwaha.
- Conquest #3 - I manhandled Ryan, one of the guys who subs in for Paul's position. And he's no pushover either. I got him to do some really stupid things, like sit in the way of people driving in to the goal (because I was holding him there). Afterwards, coach would tell him to fix the problem, but I would inevitably have to tell Ryan what the coach had been saying (Coach doesn't yell very loudly). I repeated the advice with the most innocent of tones, of course. Ryan knew the information the coach was imparting; he just couldn't follow through. He often glared at me when I told him what the coach was saying.
- Conquest #4 - I was the second-to-last girl left when we played Five Alive, a shooting drill. I got several good shots off, despite my spazzy aim.
- Realization #1 - If you only let a person get half a bodylength ahead of you, you can keep up. You stroke slightly on their back, and put your forearm against their hips. Not only to you slow them down, but they actually drag you. Hence, I could keep pace with Paul, who is a very fast male sprinter.
- Realization #2 - Knowing what to do has no usefulness if you can't follow through.
- Realization #3 - In the middle of a play, there is no inside voice for me. If the game is moving and going, everything I say is at the top of my lungs. It doesn't matter what I'm saying, who I'm saying it to, or how close they are to me. For example, in the middle of a play, Ryan picked up the ball, even though it was the girls' (blue's) ball. He was four feet away, but I shouted (with a hint of a snarl/growl), "RYAN, DROP THE BALL! IT'S NOT YOUR BALL! BLUE BALL, BLUE BALL, BLUE BALL! DROPITDROPITDROPITDROPIT!" Top of my voice, sounding very angry. In my head, I had a hint of sarcasm running through the words, but that thought did not make it to my voice. So, if I'm ever playing a game with you, and I start screaming, I promise I'm not mad. The adrenaline, intensity, and muscle tension make me sound that way.
Astounding, how this makes me feel so much better.
Today I went to water polo for the first time in a week (you have no idea how much that is killing me--I'm used to daily practices, not once-a-week practices). We basically scrimaged the whole time, guys on girls. All in all, the results were favorable, and I made a few conquests and a few realizations.
- Conquest #1 - I blocked/inhibited the majority of Paul's shots. Since he was first-team all-state last year, that's pretty shnazzy. I mean, so was I, but I'm a girl. Girls should not beat guys in positions where it is mainly brute stength with a bit of positioning involved.
- Conquest #2 - Jake, the senior goalie-man, tried to dunk me today (I won't go into detail as to why). He came up with a sort of lacksadaisical look on his face, like dunking me would be no problem and a funny thing to do. Ha! I'll show you, Mr. Goalie-Man! I managed to keep my head up during the initial shove, then I locked with his arm and wrestled him around until he was under the water. The was done, of course, in view of everybody. Mr. Goalie-Man got schooled by a girl. In a wrestling match. Take that. I spit in his face when he came up for air, and he sulked back to his goal in relative silence. Mwaha.
- Conquest #3 - I manhandled Ryan, one of the guys who subs in for Paul's position. And he's no pushover either. I got him to do some really stupid things, like sit in the way of people driving in to the goal (because I was holding him there). Afterwards, coach would tell him to fix the problem, but I would inevitably have to tell Ryan what the coach had been saying (Coach doesn't yell very loudly). I repeated the advice with the most innocent of tones, of course. Ryan knew the information the coach was imparting; he just couldn't follow through. He often glared at me when I told him what the coach was saying.
- Conquest #4 - I was the second-to-last girl left when we played Five Alive, a shooting drill. I got several good shots off, despite my spazzy aim.
- Realization #1 - If you only let a person get half a bodylength ahead of you, you can keep up. You stroke slightly on their back, and put your forearm against their hips. Not only to you slow them down, but they actually drag you. Hence, I could keep pace with Paul, who is a very fast male sprinter.
- Realization #2 - Knowing what to do has no usefulness if you can't follow through.
- Realization #3 - In the middle of a play, there is no inside voice for me. If the game is moving and going, everything I say is at the top of my lungs. It doesn't matter what I'm saying, who I'm saying it to, or how close they are to me. For example, in the middle of a play, Ryan picked up the ball, even though it was the girls' (blue's) ball. He was four feet away, but I shouted (with a hint of a snarl/growl), "RYAN, DROP THE BALL! IT'S NOT YOUR BALL! BLUE BALL, BLUE BALL, BLUE BALL! DROPITDROPITDROPITDROPIT!" Top of my voice, sounding very angry. In my head, I had a hint of sarcasm running through the words, but that thought did not make it to my voice. So, if I'm ever playing a game with you, and I start screaming, I promise I'm not mad. The adrenaline, intensity, and muscle tension make me sound that way.
Astounding, how this makes me feel so much better.
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