Winkin' Blinkin'

Sunday was my team's first tournament. To say that they were ready for it would be stretching the truth. To say that they were unprepared would be a flat out lie. Sadly, I can not think of the proper word to fit the manner in which they played and comported themselves.

Tournaments are strange out here. Pool play still abides by round-robin rules, but there are no best of three matches. Rather, there are two games to 21 points with no cap in hopes to speed up the process. Cheats the players I think, but it also saves on having two day tournaments. Pluses and minuses everywhere.


The first match we split sets. (The new fancy lingo for a game. I hate it.)
The second match we won both.
The third match we won both and took lead in the pool.
The fourth split sets and dropped to second in the pool.

Bracket play started. We played the fourth seed and took them all the way to three sets losing by six points overall. This shouldn't have happened. We should have won outright in two. There were a few hiccups along the way involving not communicating, poor serve reception, and more than a few scorer errors.

Sadly, with all of the father's taking detailed stats, and one mother running a score sheet I still had no tangible proof to present to the R1 when I very politely asked her to keep her players on task at the scorer's table. - Only USA Volleyball members are allowed to keep score in official capacity, I was busy coaching and the girls sitting never sat long enough to keep scores - The R1 told me to shut up and turn in a line up before the two minute deadline. I then asked if she would sound the whistle so I would know when that was. It was a proper request and within my rights to ask for a warning prior to a time deadline. She told me to stop crying about losing a set and coach my team. At that point I might have lost it a little bit. While walking back to my bench I casually asked her how I should coach the team that beat her out of a spot in bracket play.

She didn't like that. Not. One. Bit.

She called me back to the stand and gave me a verbal warning along with a yellow card and a delay of play sanction. - At this point the Dad's in the stands went nuts. - I protested the sanction since line ups were not checked, nor had play resumed. She actually retracted the sanction but still gave me the yellow and the verbal warnings with a promise that I would be ejected if I kept pushing the issue. In order to comply with her directions I turned around and walked to the bench filling out my line up. She called me right back to the stand and in a snarky tone of voice asked me to thank her.

I didn't like that. Not. One. Bit.

So with an overly polite smile and curt thanks, I walked to the scorers table and turned in my line up.

The girls were upset that we lost because of stupid mistakes and clerical errors to which I said, "Whaa. It happens. Ignore the peanut gallery, win as many points as you can." To which Carolynn asked, "What's a peanut gallery?" I told her to forget it, just play each point.

Overall, it was a decent tournament. I fear that knowing the rules better than the other coaches and refs might get me into more trouble down the line.

Kind of like it did for Dad when he was coaching me in basketball. Good times.

We've got our work cut out for us though. All the girls want to do is hit, and hit, and hit. But if we can't put a serve in play, nor pass a ball that's been served at us...We're never going to get the chance to hit.

Tonight we played a little game that I call "Kill the setter", which Maddie hates. A game that I hated. But, it gets the blood pumping, the body warm, and a nice lather of sweat is produced. Then for the next hour we did serve receive. Where I was the server. Went through all of the rotations, and I think I've found one of the problems. They don't move. They watch the ball, unless it comes right at them.

I need some testosterone shots to give them to make them more aggressive.

Sunday will be conditioning and serving.

Unless I get ejected.

Buck