Insurance

I recently received an email from USA Water Polo. I'm a member, of course, because it's required in order to compete in USA sanctioned games, which are the only ones that matter. It was telling me about a deal on renewing my membership, and it also listed the benefits I currently have. Among these benefits is insurance for injuries sustained while playing polo. One of the categories is distinctly disconcerting.

"Accidental death or dismemberment."

Death I can see--drowning is a possibility if you're an idiot. But...dismemberment? I'm not sure how safe I feel playing polo anymore if they expect cases of dismemberment.

Game 5

Not a strong showing, truth be told. But we did make it to the championship, and I scored again. Here's a newspaper article.

http://www.deseretnews.com/dn/view/0,1249,660220293,00.html

We had two girls on the honorable mention all state team, two on second team all state, and I was first team all state. Our second-place status means we play in the Champions Challenge tournament this week (not that we'll get very far, but it will be fun). I stole the big trophy and I have in on my mantle. It's going to stay there until we have our end-of-season banquet.

Game 4

I can only write interestingly about a game once, and I'm writing a little scene/story/snippet thing for this game. So you get the brief version.

We were playing the same team we played in game 2, only this time they were ticked off (beating someone is never easier the second time). It was majorly intense. It came down to the last few seconds. And me, pathetically enough.

That's right, I scored the winning goal! With four seconds left, no less. Afterwards, I got dunked a lot. For those of you who don't know, I'm a defensive player, and I've never really had a sweet awesome shot. Mainly, I just hit the bars of the goal or throw lob-like shots when I'm trying to rocket them off. It was soooooo cool to win like that. I've always wanted to, but I never thought it would happen.

Game 3

Let's not talk about game 3. I'd rather forget it as soon as possible. Let's just say that right now, I feel like maiming anyone who even slightly annoys me. Or thinks about annoying me. Or looks at me without permission.

Game 2

Water polo state championship report:

8-5, for us! This was a team we haven't beat before, and we weren't predicted to win. I skidded onto the deck two minutes before game time, and the greyhound didn't get there until after the first quarter was over.

A few highlights: In the very first play, our substitute set player (the greyhound is our usual) scored a backhanded shot. Sweeeeet.

By the time the greyhound got there, it was 4-1, us.

Nobody I was guarding scored. I even did an a la goalie block on one of them.

By third quarter, the other team had girls on the deck gasping for breath: we were just fine.

Our team only had one ejection called on us.

We drew several ejections, two of which were on the same person (a leading scorer) so they sent her to play goalie.

More or less, we kicked butt.

Game 1

Water polo state tournament report:

We totally wasted in our first game. 12-0, and we were doing so well that my coach took me out for the first half of the third quarter and the majority of the fourth. We didn't play our best, so hopefully we're saving that for tomorrow. I did draw one beautiful ejection: I swam for about five seconds carrying an opposing player on my back. Mwahaha.

Also, we must win every game. We cannot lose, because we've decided we're winning a state championship, but to do that from the loser's bracket, we'd have to either do it without two of our players or make them skip prom (one is going with a guy she really likes, and the other is going to her first and last dance).

Nightmare

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.

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.

Listen to the Whistle

Today at water polo, my face more or less got bashed in. My upper jaw and nearly my entire nose are still tingly, and I got hit almost two hours ago. Now, I wouldn't have a problem with this if it was my fault, or if it had happened in the regular course of the game.

HOWEVER, it was not my fault, nor was it part of the game. The person who hit me was doing a full-force back-handed shot. Thus, she could not see where she was shooting. Admitedly, I was in the way, but here's the catch. I know how not to get hurt while blocking a backhand. I've been taught how, and self-preservation has nearly perfected my methods. I was in the way because our coach had blown the whistle: the play was over. So I stopped in mid-motion and stayed in the way. My teammate decided to take the shot anyway.

Because what she did was in ignorance of the position she is playing, I didn't get particularly mad at her. She could tell she hurt me, because I kept my hand over the injured area for a few minutes and it was a few more before I really got back in the game. I explained gently that when the play is over, it's over, but I'm not sure she got the picture. I tried not to let her see just how badly she'd hurt me, because she felt pretty bad anyway and she would have felt awful. But a couple of teammates noticed that I kept fingering my teeth and my nose whenever her back was turned.

I just hope it doesn't hurt tomorrow.

Water Polo Banquet

The banquet was a blast. I love presenting captain's awards...and I get to do it two more times! Probably. At least once more. Anyway, here's the results:

Most Valuable Player - Bobcat
Most Improved - Greyhound
Most Inspirational - ME!!!
Rookie of the Year - Chipmunk
Coach's Award - Fishing Cat

My captain's award (given by the bobcat) was the "I'll Shoot You With My Knife!" award. (Long explanation. Let's just say I was very, very angry on the freeway and the only weapon I had was a flip knife.)

I also found out that I made 1st Team All-State! That means that in our division, I was one of the top seven players! Yipee! The bobcat was 1st Team too, and the greyhound was 2nd.

I loved seeing everyone again. About five of us stayed there forever with the three coaches joking and laughing and assessing what type of drunk person each of us would make (I'm either a corner drunk or a giggly drunk; no one could officially decide; the bobcat is a destructive drunk, we had an angry drunk, a babbling drunk, a pass-out-after-one-despite-big-talk drunk, etc.). It was just so awesome to be with everyone again. I hope we do the summer games; I told Tia I was totally up for it if we did.

My goals for next year:
1 - Get meaner (I'm really way too nice [well, clean] for my position)
2 - Learn to shoot (Angry-Gay-Guy style, I suppose; but I need to learn to aim while I'm at it)

Sunset

The ocelot clawed her way out of the river and joined her fellow defenders at the roots of a rowan.

Yesterday, the water polo season came to a close.

They huddled together and the general spoke some parting words.

We lost our game, and took third in state. We closed the predicted gap between us and the team we lost to by over half.

The bobcat called loudly, and the others echoed in turn. The ocelot bowed her head as they chanted, and golden drops of liquid emotion mingled with the sweat of her labors.

As we cheered our cheer for the final time, I cried.

The flamingo passed as the ocelot watched, and as the fishing cat paced along, she paused. The ocelot embraced her dear friend, knowing that they would only see each other once or twice more.

So many friends are gone. So many more are leaving.

As the ocelot watched from her tree, her eyes glistened. For the end of this season's defenders meant much more. It heralded another end, one that the ocelot found much harder to face.

Six years. It won't ever be the same.

The ocelot looked to the far horizon, seeing a second sunset. It wasn't her sunset, and it wasn't really the second. It would be far from the last sunset. The colors flashed brighter than she had ever seen, and the final light trickled onto the backs of more than it had when she had watched before. The flamingo waded downriver, and the fishing cat bounded away into the mists. The bobcat faded, leaving only a half-image. Almost like ghosts, the badger and the wolfhound appeared somewhere in the distance, if only for a moment. Somewhere a mighty bird called. The sunlight drained from the sky, and the ocelot wept again.

On a Half Hour of Sleep

pretty much anything seems hilarious.

Last night the water polo team had a sleep-over. We all swore we'd go to sleep at a reasonable hour, but who were we kidding? Normally, I can sleep through other people, but I couldn't this time, even though the only other two people awake at the time were whispering. I have no idea what we talked about all night, but we just sat there and talked (waking up the rest of the team eventually, of course). But the talking came after we donned our war paint. Using the ceremonial permanent marker, we drew designs all down one leg and had an Indian-ish design drawn upon our opposite foot. At first I objected, but really, at 3:30 AM, you can get me to do pretty much anything with a little mildly coherent persuasion. Really, I only slept for a half hour this morning, and none at all last night.

The game was nothing short of a travesty. We won by a landslide, making it all the more ridiculous. The girls team opposing us actually forfeited, but then they combined their three girls with all but three of their guys and played the game (which made me happy; guys are stronger, and make defending the middle more interesting). And now for some of the idiotic antics that all of us indulged in because we were high on poisoned carrots (don't ask).

The bobcat was probably the worst. When a girl grabbed her ankles, she giggled and said, "Don't grab my ankles; that's gay." When she hooked a girl with her feet and, due to the other girl's lack of stature, sank the player, she merrily said, "Oopsies" and swam past. That was by the other team's bench, so she got some funny looks and "what a jerk" comments. When she put her hand on a guy's arm to keep track of him, she said, "Oooh, you're strong." Being completely serious, of course. She convinced another guy that she didn't want him to guard her because he was strong--right before sweeping in a shot under his armpit (heh heh). That same guy she tricked had an issue with people putting their hands on him to keep track of him (the move is perfectly normal; it's even legal, which says something). He kept flicking my hand away, which just made me want to put it back to bug him. I was giggling by the time there was a turnover (and those of you who know me well realize how hard it is to get me giggling). The pinnacle one for me, though, was when this one kid, #21, came into set. I was setting up on him and my hips were down for a second and he grabbed my leg under the knee. Normally, I would just pull my leg out, or nudge his hand off or something. However, in my half-daze, I used my mouth's position next to his ear-guard to full advantage. Not bothering to keep my voice low, I told him, "Grab my leg and I'll kill you." He immediately let go and said, "Sorry," in a pitiful sort of tone. He really didn't want me guarding him after that, and never returned to set. It was actually kind of lame. I mean, he was probably near twice my weight. Wait for me to back up my threat a little before you lay off, stupid!

It's probably not that funny, except to me. Anyway, now I have to go clean the house. Yippee-kai-yay and a bucket of rum!

Ego Trip

To repair my pride after our pitiful final game during our tournament yesterday, I shall list three things that make me feel wonderful.

#1 - I finally broke 200 pages. I'm typing on 204 right now (well, not RIGHT now, but you know what I mean). Anloi is very tired, Maric hasn't shown up for over a chapter, and Sinx is going to very soon try to cheer Anloi up. Oh, and Ciria starts to give up on Sfereshan/Kumeyan prejudice. It's about time, woman!

#2 - One of the numbered guys (I can't remember his number; I should really give them animals, or at least the two that aren't graduating this year) was being random and weird and he texted the fishing cat "You're all beautiful in your own way." This was said to the carpool of six girls coming back from the tournament. He was asked to specify, and I really liked his reply. Now, I wouldn't be surprised if he was just making stuff up because he had to answer for every one of us in the car, but what he said about me still made me feel good. It was something to the effect of, "She's my favorite girl on the OHS swim team because she's so nice to me all the time. No one deserves her." Even if he was making stuff up, that was pretty sweet of him.

#3 - The mongoose, Puff of Writers' Block, gave me this compliment after reading the updates I had for her...a while ago. "I must congratulate you: I've been treating [Son of Sferesh] like a really good book. I was eager to get the new pages, finished them in a day, and am now reluctant to part with them. I don't think that's happened since... High Rhulainn came out." That's saying a lot, because she loves the Redwall books (High Rhulainn was the last one to come out).

Anyway, maybe I'll go try to write an article for the water polo team. Or do the laundry. I'll probably end up doing the latter. *sigh* Getting ready for vacations is what makes you need them, I swear.

Chlorine Withdrawal

Today, come 7:05 a.m., I had officially been out of the water for twenty four hours. I was going crazy! Yesterday I watched the soccer game, and that made me long for soccer and land sports again (kind of "Nostalgia in Yellow Socks" revisited). It was even worse because I had been deprived of my yellow ball sport for the day. To deepen the depression, I found out that we focused on the sort of stuff I LOVE at practice yesterday. There was a separate set/hole-d practice and then--then, we practiced screening and picks. That's like, the best part ever! They named the play while I was gone, too. The cross-screen (I'm not going to explain it) is now called "Rainbows and Ponies". Thus shall it be called in games, and thus it shall be carried out. I lugged my water polo ball around with me all morning to console myself. I couldn't join in the post-practice dry-land workout either, because of my knees. I'm just having issues right now. And Tman, water polo does not suck, and it shows how far your arguments against it have fallen that you've resorted to prejudiced comments with no support. Therefore, come the beginning of the season next year, you are hereby banned from disuading impressionable freshmen and/or sophmores unless you can give valid, non-exclusionary evidence (meaning if you argue that it makes it so you can't swim, you can mention Paul, but you must also mention Lelani; be fair). That's really the only reason I hate you dissing on it. Right now, I couldn't care less. At the beginning of the season is when I hate it. Don't be stupid next season, or I'll have to attack your personal credibility.

Wow. Now I just sound ornery. I blame it on lack of chlorine! I'm sorry!

Why?

Why am I always the odd girl out? Why? And why must the odd guy out always be Mike? Curses. Why can't I get paired up with a slow boy? Or a stupid boy? Or a boy that isn't twice my size? Gosh dang! And he complains about me grabbing his arm. Well, if I could REACH the hand with the ball, maybe I WOULD! Nyah!

I actually don't hate it too much, except that I have to think hard to look like I'm out swimming him.

Game 2

Our first water polo game was against the best team in the state, and was used as a learning experience. Today was our first game against a team in 4A, and we were pumped. Our coach had been telling us that he had heard they were awesome, and especially that they had a good set (translation for the water polo illiterate: set is the offensive position that plays right in front of the goal. Also called hole, 2-meter, position 6). Since I play hole-d (the person who defends set) I was all prepared to have to step up and rely on my team to help me out of a bind. I was also ready to foul her into uselessness.

As it turned out, they had eight players (meaning they only had one sub). They didn't even sprint during the first two quarters (sprint = water polo equivalent of a jump ball. It's to see who starts with possession). Their set was decent, but I found that I'm just over decent at my defending. She never scored. She rarely even tried to take a shot. Half the time I had her left hand shoved straight under the water and clasped in my right (meaning that when they passed to her right hand, it was all too easy for me to jump across her and swat the ball away). I also managed to get a dirty player ejected (ejection = player sits in the corner for 20 sec. If three are given to the same player, they get rolled out of the game). She was goalie initially, but during the second half she played in the field (pool? Whatever). She guarded people by putting her elbow on their shoulder and her wrist under their chin. So she was basically crushing people's necks. I started to swim over her arm and push down with my chin when she tried it on me (if she wouldn't have let go, I would have either broken her arm or seriously screwed up her elbow). She kept trying to do it, so I flipped my back against her. Then she put both arms on my shoulders and straight forward (her arms were about six inches apart; yes, that move is illegal). I called for the ball so I could get her called on it, then she twisted her arms against mine. But my legs were stronger so I shoved her up into view and because I was yelling the refs saw it. I was proud.

A lot of the new/less experienced girls stepped up. We passed really well and we played as a team. There was no one person that was always our go-to girl. We scored eleven goals, and the most one person scored was four. I didn't score, but I had a few assist and a ton of steals. We paid attention on defense too, and we almost shut them out (they got one point). Our newbie goalie stepped up, as did everyone. It was an awesome game.

Rhymage

Today the bobcat and I rhymed words while we did our treading water. It helped a lot. I didn't notice how bad my legs hurt until AFTER we were finished! Good stuff. We were going to sing a song, but we couldn't think of one. I think we confused other people on what we were trying to do. We started making up words that rhymed too. Is "ool" a word?

Defenders

And, since we started defense at water polo today, I can actually call water polo the Defenders, no matter how incredibly corny that still is! (Time did not diminish the high levels of cheesiness.)

The ocelot glanced side to side furtively. Her face was half submerged, giving off an impression of apathy. But every muscle was tensed. She saw the bobcat coil her muscles out of the corner of her eye. When the larger cat sprung forward in the water, the ocelot was ready.

She leapt backwards into the bobcat's path. The bobcat lunged sideways, but the ocelot blocked that way too. The rolling about in the water lasted for only a few seconds, but at the end, the ocelot was the clear winner.

The ocelot's accomplishment of the day was that she had gotten a much larger cat to threaten her.

Water Polo, Day 3

Hogui Bear was there! I'm so happy. He made me grin, and it made me work harder, just to show him what he's taught us. I wish he could be there all the time. *sigh* But he talked to the new coach about each one of us (privately, of course, but you could tell he was pointing to the players he knew and saying what he thought of them). That makes me happy as well.

I now know a total of...seven names, but I can only match six of them to a face. The names I know do not include people I knew before this season of water polo.

The new recruits are learning well. Yes, they are. Mwahaha! We'll make fiends of them yet. There are a certain two guys that I just met that are catching on quickly. Certain other folks are good too. Zach (guy #1 or 2, methinks) has a nice shot, but he hesitates about it. His little brother needs to get his arm out of the water when he throws.

Next week we start defensive work! Then I can really shine. I love defense oh so much. Beyond that, if I can prove that I can take hole-d, the bobcat won't have to worry about having to play both hole and hole-d. (I'm sorry to those of you who don't understand the positions I'm talking about. If you're really curious, I'll go into detail and perhaps scan a picture. On second thought, there will be no picture. I don't think I can make it work. Just know that hole and hole-d are the hardest positions for offense and defense, respectively.

Anywho, my back is full of knots, my legs are about to fall off, but my enthusiasm is still running strong. We are going to be awesome this year!

And I'm mongo stressed over stuff in general--school, poetry night, my CPR certification, the birthday kidnapping tomorrow--and now I stupidly agreed to help plan a season-opening party for water polo. Yeesh. If I would just stop doing things, I wouldn't stress! Gosh!

Water Polo Begins

And the chaos has commenced. Our new coach isn't talking a lot with us, so I don't know what kind of guy he will be. But him not talking is a good thing. That means he wants to be impartial on matters of positions and such. I know that he can't ever replace or match Hogue, but no one ever could, so I won't hold it against him.

They have done away with the Division I and II thing we had last year. We're going with the high school 3A, 4A, 5A dealio, based on where the majority of your players came from the year before. Since most came from OHS, we're 4A. Do you know what that means? Of course not. No one knows the skill levels of our state's water polo teams except water polo players. I'll speak simply: our main competition is Murray, and we only lost to them by 3 last year. We lost a few players, but they lost their best two, and if we focus and work our tails off and play as a team, we could take state. The greyhound, the bobcat, and I have made it a goal. We've also decided to really focus on team building by having parties and hanging out on weekends, and avoiding talking about the racoon behind her back. I've made an individual goal to know everyone's name in three weeks' time. This is a toughy, because the new coach is bringing a lot of his swimmers into it.

We're also going to make sure we don't huddle with the people we know, or those that have played before. Today, when we paired up for passing, we made sure to pass with people that we didn't know and that were inexperienced. We even crossed the gender barrier (ooooo). I have learned three names for sure, and one tenatively. Three down, twelve to go! That is, if no more new people show up...