sermons, writings, etc
Fine moments in our too short lives teach lessons
Special to the News & Record
Saturday, September 20, 2008By Michael Usey
Water volleyball comes to an end this month for another year. I play on weekends at Hamilton Lakes Pool, near Morehead Elementary. There is a group of mostly guys, and a few women, who play three to four times a week during the summer.
Most Saturday and Sunday afternoons late, from 4 p.m. to 6 p.m., I’m in the lap pool jumping with the young bucks and old men as we act out Olympic glory. As with any sport, some are much better than others.
There are very few rules: no hitting the ball through the net is the main one. Otherwise, most of the regular volleyball rules apply — only three hits, let serves are good, the ball is dead when it hits the water — but more liberally.
One can, for example, hit the ball when it’s on the other side of the net as long you go over the net. One can spike the ball in thy neighbor’s head, so that the word Voit can be seen on the spikee’s forehead.This makes for some atomic slams and forceful blocks. Sometimes the ball, boomed down on a Pete Townshend windmill spike, skips over the fence into the baby pool. Playful taunting and good-natured trash-talking are part of the game. The players call Ron “Skinny,” and he is anything but. Toby’s nickname is “Tobi-Wan Kenobi”; they call Matt “Moby,” and Tommy has a “-gun” added to his name. A well-known religious leader in Greensboro named Rick is affectionately called “Shamu,” for the splash he makes entering the pool. They have called me Reverend Moon ever since I lost some weight and worn a swimsuit that was a little too big for me. I don’t play volleyball for added dignity.
My phys-ed major friends have all long said that, if you want to know about a person’s character, you only have to play a game or sport with that person. This is true about our neighborhood v-ball games. Some players set the ball so that another (usually taller) player can spike the ball into the other team. Other players never set the ball to another player. It is such a drag to play next to one of these turkeys. A few are so skilled that this egotism is overlooked, but usually not for long. For them the motto is, “There is no team in I.” On the other hand, there are five or six players who are not tall but who are so team-oriented that they will enable a group of average players to beat a great team most every time.
One of the pleasant qualities about this group is that we have a couple of guys over 70 who play, and by and large the group welcomes them. Typically, they cannot play that well, and one or two create a dead spot for a team. But they are embraced and welcomed.
Serving the ball to them is considered unsportsmanlike conduct, and doing it twice will earn you a red card. One of the older guys keeps the score, and, while he misses the ball almost every time it is hit to him, he makes up for it by fudging on the score — adding a point to two to his team, subtracting the same for his opponent. Old-age craftiness beats youthful exuberance every time. When this guy is on the opposite team, I keep careful track of the score; when he’s on my team, not so much.I suppose there are any number of life-lessons here.
■ You don’t have to be the biggest or the tallest to beat someone at the net — it is all about physics. Get closer to the net than the other guy, jump on time, and you’re likely to win the point. Is it the same with God: The closer we are, the better chance we have?
■ Selfless play by team players is worth 10 times that of great egotistic play by ball-hogs.
■ It’s hard to be in a foul mood swimming in a clean, cold pool on a hot summer day, or playing v-ball in the water with friends.
■ You don’t really know someone until you’ve seen him or her in a swimsuit. This could be good or bad.
■ It’s crucial to stay active and to glory in the bodies we have been given, even if some days I can’t hit the ball to save my life.
■ Nathan, our son, was a part-time lifeguard this summer. How odd and wonderful it was to see my 15-year-old in the guard chair surveying the big pool for safety. It wasn’t that long ago he was being whistled down for running, and now he’s the one with the whistle. He was especially concerned that no cute girls get injured or drown on his watch. How deeply Christian of him.
■ Watching the fine HBO miniseries “Generation Kill” this summer made me think sometimes as I arrive at the pool, how many of our soldiers in Iraq, and the Iraqis, too, especially the children, would love to have an afternoon swimming, splashing, floating, dunking and even spiking the volleyball. When we have fine moments in our too short lives, it’s a great good to recognize them.