We had our end-of-year volleyball tournament yesterday. My team won first place, which surprised the hell out of me. I haven’t won first place at anything in a while, and it was a very/ even game: with only a couple of exceptions, all our matches were won or lost by a handful of points. So I blocked and I passed and I set and I reffed for a bit and then I blocked and passed and yelled some more and sweated like a pig, from morning to mid-afternoon. Good thing I had my towel with me.
Which may not seem like a big thing, but I realized I’d never brought a towel to play. Until this weekend I just used my t-shirt to wipe myself off (yes, even for big tournaments), but I figured maybe I needed a little more. And, who knows? Maybe it’s the towel that helped me win. Because the rest of the players could sass what a hoopy guy I was: they knew they were dealing with a frood who really knew where his towel was, and their strength failed them.
(RIP, Douglas.)
I’m sad to see the season end, but grass volleyball is coming up soon, so it’s all good. Maybe if I bring a towel there too, I’ll end the summer with off-white skin instead of shining alabaster. Unfortunately, tanning is right out. Curse these melanin-impoverished genes what my folks gave me!