Nearly everyone I know has spent at least a few minutes watching the Olympics. My wife and I have watched more than our share of swimming. Last night, we watched Women’s Beach Vollyball. It brought back memories of a picnic and a volleyball match in Memphis many years ago.
I was young, maybe 28 or 29, and was a newly hired Manager of Data Processing at a Austrian Chemical company whose American operations were headquarted in Memphis. It was an exciting time. We were a $20 million a year business, and I was the head hauncho of IT. My staff, split between Memphis and St. Joseph, Missouri, consisted of one full time, and two part time nerds. The company had sent me to New York for a couple of weeks to learn how the process manufacturing software worked. I was living large!
So, spring time comes around and we all work like hell. It becomes a 24×7 operation because springtime is when the ag-chem we made gets used. We had a great year, and in August, Hans (our CEO’s name was Hans), announced that the annual company picnic would be at some park whose name I have long forgotten. He also asked me if I would bring my grill and barbeque for the event. I was honored that he even knew I existed.
The day of the event, I arrived early, started the fire, and started the prep work for the bbq. I had to do a couple of batches of ribs and chicken in order to have enough for everyone. Other people arrived and set up for horse shoes, and badmitten, and Volleyball. More people arrived and brought side dishes and beer. Hans, his lovely wife, and their 2 kids arrived. Hans held Ph.d’s in both biology and chemistry. He was in his early 40’s and his wife was in her mid 30’s. Both were tall, slender and of athletic builds.
I have never been a fan of horse shoes. Badmitten has never been my thing either, but volleyball…now volleyball was a hell of a fine game. We played it extensively when I was in the 7th grade. My jumping ability had really come in handy, and I loved the game. My 7th grade intermural team was the best in the school, and I fancied myself among the best players in the school. I was looking forward to playing volleyball. All the while I managed the fire, I was thinking about volleyball. I remembered playing games so many years ago, and smashing the ball over the net. I remembered blocking shots, and setting up shots. I remembered launching limb snapping rockets at the other team and laughing as they cowered from the powerful shots that pummeled them.
Finally, the time to play was upon us. Everyone went over to where the volleyball net had been set up. Teams were chosen. Hans was on our team, and Maria was on the other. Each team took a few minutes to engage in minimal organizational discussions. In the end as starting positions were determined, I was to start the game at left front. I was excited.
The other team had first serve. The ball came over the net, and was set up by the second line. Mike, starting the game at center, tipped the ball over the net, and it fell to the ground. We broke their serve. Our turn to serve.
We shifted positions one position to the right. I looked up and my heart sank. I was facing Maria, the tall and very beautiful wife of our CEO. She smiled at me. I melted. I have a competitive spirit, and I give 100% in every thing I play. I looked at Maria, a slender but athletic Austrian woman maybe 7 years older than me. She had blue eyes, and blond hair that moved with the lightest breeze. She had a beautiful smile and a wonderful tan. She might have weighed 110 lbs. I knew right then that I wasn’t going to blast the ball down this lady’s throat. I knew that I wasn’t going stuff her attempts to spike it. Hell, she probably didn’t even know how to spike it. I felt horrible. I was all fired up and ready to play, and now this. I was just going to have to go easy on this nice lady.
Just then, Donna served the ball and in that instant my focus was back on the game. The second line fielded the serve, and set the ball up high for Maria.
Instinct took over. I couldn’t go easy. I had to play. I had to play hard. I moved swiftly into position to block Maria’s shot. I was directly in front of her. She crouched a little in preparation to jump, and I did the same. Timing my jump just after her leap, I sprang high into the air, stretching my arms high to block her shot. I was going to shove this ball right back down her throat.
This was a mistake.
Maria leaped gracefully and amazingly high into the air almost like some sort of manical witch about to turn some poor slob into a newt. With no apparent effort, she soared high above me. I knew this wasn’t a good sign. With a windmill motion that she performed with such speed that the air cracked like lightening, she wound up and struck the ball. She hit the ball with such force that tiny particals of ink vaporized as the ball shot toward me. I watched the ball in horror as it rocketed toward me as if it were Exocet missile. There is no fear in the world like watching a flaming volleyball of doom sear the air as it closes in on your face. I’m sure there was a sonic boom. The impact must have been on par with being hit by Mike Tyson. I don’t remember being hit by the ball. I don’t remember hitting the ground. I do remember the headache.
Maria had been a starter on the 1976 Austrian Womens Olympic Volleyball team.
It would have been helpful to know that before hand.
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