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by Karl Katzenberger
The BREAKDOWN
(updated 4/23/2008)
This is awesome! I am actually going to be writing a column about volleyball!! I can't stop using exclamation points!!!! When I heard about the opportunity from Tim Kolehmainen, the editor for The Breakdown, I immediately jumped out of my chair standing tall, two fists raised in triumph.
It felt like Andy DuFresne near the end of "The Shawshank Redemption", you know - minus the 500 yard crawl through a tunnel of human waste.
I have wanted to tell this story for a couple of weeks now. I know this site is dedicated to promoting mainly high school volleyball and I am a huge supporter of anything that will further the sport in the great state of Minnesota. I feel there is a unique cultish subculture that is wildy popular and a game that can be intensely thrilling, dramatic, inspiring and heartbreaking all at the same time.
However, this story comes from coaching in a recent JO volleyball tournament held in Indianapolis. Hopefully the relavance won't be lost.
The scene is Day 2 of the JO National Qualifier held annually in Indy, dubbed the Mideast Hoosier National Qualifier. Throngs of players, coaches, parents, fans, refs and vendors make a stampede for the precious hotel accomodations in that city once a year in an attempt to qualify for the "Big One", JO Nationals, held yearly in July. This year Nationals will be held in Dallas, Texas. That tournament is the top showcase for youth volleyball talent in the nation.
If you are less than a close follower of youth volleyball in Minnesota, you probably aren't even aware that literally thousands of people are descending upon downtown Minneapolis as we speak for a similar qualifying tournament held April 19-21st and April 25-27th at the Minneapolis Convention Center. Hundreds of teams at all age groups from around the nation - playing in a huge tourney format for the right to play at JO Nationals in Dallas. Good times if you are fan of volleyball. Check out http://www.midwestvolleyball.com/nlj/qualifier.htm if you are interested.
Back to our hero's adventure (me). It was day two of the tournament, and the team I am coaching, comprised of high school sophomores from the Twin Cities area, had a great day one and were still in position to make a run at the elusive bid to JO Nationals in this tournament. I was grabbing a coffee in the Starbuck's before our 8am match was set to go and noticed a suggestion box near the counter. This always kind of inspires my mischevious side, especially when out of town to drop a card with "C'mon - $3.49 for a cup of black coffee?" or "Barista named Chuck's nosering made my coffee buying experience wholly satisfying" in there. I of course decide to take the high road and save the suggestion cards for legitimate complaints.
More on this later.
We head over to the Indianpolis Convention Center as a team, filing in together with the 200 or so other teams competing at 8am this morning, a truly surreal experience seeing 2000 or so teenagers too tired to be their normal chatty, cellphone blazing selves. A quick sidenote - the Indy CC is directly connected to the RCA Dome. There are about 60 courts set up for volleyball in the Convention Center and about 30 or so set up - get this - SMACK DAB on the RCA Dome field.
I had the immense pleasure of coaching a volleyball match 2 years ago right on the 50 yard line amid 60,000 empty seats in a huge white bubble nearly identical to our own Metrodome. Of course I was picturing during warmups what it would be like coaching a match with the seats sold out wearing a NFL coaches' style Motorola headset, covering my mouth with the playbook while radioing in the play to my setter who had her ears covered so she could hear over the deafening roar of a sold out crowd and the opening throngs of Bush's hit single "Comedown" blaring over the 4,000 speakers set into the stadium.
In a related story - I am a huge nerd. My daydream was shattered by a timid 16-year old player from the reffing team politely asking me "Um... Coach? Y'all are from Minnesota?". Being the true intuit I am, I glanced at her jersey and silently read the words "Long Beach" and replied - "Yeah - and you guys are from California? That's cool - what can I do for you?". She nervously smiled and kind of shifted her weight from one foot to another and said "Ummm - me and some of the girls on my team kind of have a bet." She continued to stammer out "D-do you think you could - ya know - you could settle it for us?". The rest of her team hurried in to close proximity to hear my reply. I said "Sure kiddo. What's the bet?". The ice had been broken a bit, and some muffled giggles were coming from her teammates now. "Ummm... we were kinda wondering... D-do you guys have like - the Internet in Minnesota yet?". I guess if I was a true intuit I would have seen that coming.
This being the Internet - I am going to time-stamp blog the next part of this story:
7:14am - We are whooshed into the Indy CC at approximately Mach 3 due to the air pressure diffence between the RCA dome and outside. I guess I'll never be 100% prepared for this phenomenon even though I have entered a dome stadium only like 1000+ times in my life.
7:15am - Frantically begin the search for court 8 - of 84
7:17am - Courteous usher dressed in official looking blazer and dress slacks comes to rescue with "Court 8 - right down the hall between 7 and 9!" Thanks...
7:20am - Arrive at court 8. As promised, directly sandwiched between 7 and 9.
7:22am - Rub eyes and wipe nose for the 37th time since waking up an hour ago. I have a terrible time with allergies in foriegn cities. Yes, I know Indianapolis, Indiana has not yet seceded from the U.S. of A.
7:24am - Watch my team stretch and warm up with all the vigor of the opening shuffle of the Ladies' Bridge Club at the Crystal Community Center. I predict a hot start for us. Probably have the other team out of timeouts within minutes.
7:35am - Silently calculating the time it would take to find/sprint to the bathroom and back due to the $3.49 cup of black coffee vs. the now 10-minute countdown to the singing of the national anthem.
7:36am - Usher in official looking blazer - "Yes! Men's room - down the hall right next to the Ladies' room!" Hmmm... I think the Indianapolis Usher's Union may want to renegotiate their contract for a huge, across the board pay raise in fiscal '08.
7:40am - Somehow P.A. announcer gets 2000 teenagers 1000 volleyballs and approximately 4000 adults to freeze in their tracks for the singing of the national anthem. By tradition, to be performed by a young lady on one of the participating teams.
7:43am - Wow! My goosebumps have goosebumps and my eyes are mysteriously damp. Must be the allergies again.
7:45am - 1st Referee Joe introduces himself - I quickly introduce 1st referee Joe to some wintergreen Tic-Tacs I always carry.
7:58am - Warmups are complete, teams complete the perfunctory pre-game handshakes/line up and wave combo and we are ready to go!
There is a certain amount of tension in the air. I mean there is a ton of volleyball yet to be played, but this is a key match for both teams. The first of a 3 match/4 team pool that will decide wether you will be playing for a bid tomorrow, or merely for final standing within the tourney.
Of the 100 or so teams competing in the 16 club division, half were knocked out of bid contention yesterday due to bad luck, poor excecution or simply came up against stronger teams. Both the team we are playing and the team you are now forever bonded to by virtue of having read this column were fortunate enough to advance to this match with it's hopes still firmly alive. Simply put, from here on out, finish 1st or 2nd in this 4 team pool playing on court 8 today and you have a realistic chance at snagging one of the 3 JO National bids up for grabs this weekend. Finish 3rd or 4th and you are out. That's right, you get some more consolation bracket day play on day 3, but are essenially looking forward to a disappointing 12 hour coach bus ride back to Minnesota.
Did I mention my laptop only has a hour and a half battery life? But hey, I have the bus DVD player to look forward too with such classics as "Legally Blonde 2" and "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days" playing on the ride home. I am secretly wondering how I can smuggle some kerosene on the bus and light myself on fire at the 1st rest stop after my laptop battery runs out. Please Volleyball Gods - HELP US WIN TODAY!!!
The opening salvos of the first game are kind of sloppily played, both teams are trying to get things in synch. Then the key moment, the whole reason behind this poor excuse for a volleyball article comes up - BANG! POW! We hit the ball out of bounds and seemingly lose the rally, but the 16-year old sophomore from Long Beach is the 2nd referee in the match, and as timidly as she asked me if we had the Internet in Minnesota, she blows her whistle and signals a net violation on the opposing team with all of the verve of someone who just learned that their home was being foreclosed on. Sweet! Our point!
Except for The 1st referee doesn't see/hear the 2nd referee and is signaling for the point to be awarded to the evil opposing team, who's head coach is an intense 5'4"ish gal I would conservatively place in her 40's. Think Selma the Bailiff from the hit TV sitcom "Night Court", or current NFL Quarterback Kurt Warner, only a short, fiery woman - but keep the military style "I have worn a football helmet all day and this is what my haircut looks like - that's right! A box! You wanna make somethin' of it!?!?" edge to her. Now as recently as 2 years ago I would have rocketed out of my seat and started instantly screaming "NET!! NET!!! The down ref called the NET!!!".
I am trying like the dickens to improve upon my In-game demeanor, especially when dealing with refs, and especially when dealing with clearly jittery 16-year old refs. It is just past 8:20am after all and who needs a heavy dose of me doing a Richard Simmons impersonation with a 50-50 chance of a full box of wintergreen Tic-Tacs cascading all over the court? We can all agree that would be a bad thing right? Thought so. It is my contention that in the past few years, coaches, players, parents and fans all have gotten away from the "Suggestion Box" (Remember the Starbucks visit this morning?) way of addressing their grievances. Submit your complaint via a card in the box - have it reviewed in a prompt manner by those who can effect change on the situation - and accept the decision of those put in authority wether you like the outcome of the decision or not.
More and more, the volleyball viewing community has abandoned this strategy as a whole and gone straight to SCREAMING. SCREAM when you don't like a call. SCREAM at your player when they make a mistake. SCREAM at the coach when your daughter has been percieved to be mistreated or under/mis-utilized. I am probably in the top 10% in competitive loudmouths in volleyball in Minnesota, and I don't mean that in a negative way, but I am actively trying to change my behaviors. Am I guilty of raising my voice in situations like this? Absolutely. Will I be eating these words in this column this fall when I get back on the bench coaching the Varsity Volleyball team at Armstrong High School? Again, Absolutely. My point is - I am actively trying to change my behaviors and not skip the "Suggestion Box" step completely. Why go straight to screaming when "Ummm, Mr/Mrs Referee, can I get a sec here?" will do? I decided this will be a perfect spot to try out my new "Suggestion Box" theory.
So to recap - we have hit the ball out in the relative infancy of the game. The score is unimportant, just know it is still reasonably early in the action and neither team is ahead by more than 2 points. I can't really remember the score because of the comedy/tragedy that is about to befall me. I am going to try and calmly get the point in question awarded properly and fairly to us. (Really, I know biased as this sounds I would agree to the merit of that last sentence even if I was the opposing coach.) I stand up and say, "Kiddo, did you see them touch the net?". She awkwardly answers yes, and I say, "Well if you hustle over to the 1st ref, and tell him - we can get this point right. And make sure you bring these" as I hand her my box of wintergreen Tic-Tacs.
Ok-ok-ok I made that last part up. She dutifully sprints over to the 1st referee who is paying attention to the exchange between me the coach and the 2nd referee - standard protocol before the 1st referee starts a new rally with a becon for serve. No sooner have I sat down happily patting myself on the back for a job calmly and well done does the opposing head coach SPRINT the 30 feet from her area near her service line to approximately 2 feet away from me and begins SCREAMING - "YOU CAN'T INTIMIDATE A REF INTO MAKING A CALL FOR YOUR TEAM - YOU HEAR ME??? YOU CAN'T DO THAT!!!". As I succesfully regain control of my excretory system, I dizzily take stock of the situation. The 1st and 2nd referee are discussing the events of the last play - which are currently under question due to the lack of enthusiasm of the 2nd referee's net violation call. The 40-ish female version of Kurt Warner is suddenly SCREAMING at me from 2 feet away. At 8:22am I was feeling proud of myself for calmly handling a dispute with a ref. It is 8:22:08 and I feel myself inexplicably going through a male hormonal "Incredble Hulk" like transformation into the "Evil Coach Karl" who should be a "RETURN SCREAMER".
Always fun in Internet columns - my response to this barrage of screaming was:
A) Calmly return to my seat and await the 1st referee's decision.
B) Say to the opposing female 5'4"ish Kurt Warner Doppleganger "Umm... Sir? Why are you screaming at me?"
C) Explain to the opposing coach that I am from out of town and wonder if she could recommend a barber.
D) Stand up and half stammer/half scream "YY-YOU C-CCAN'T INTIMIDATE ME EITHER!! C-CC CC-C COACH!!"
If you chose D) you either know me too well or have read my previous works.
God, I am embarrassed to be me somedays, and this was one of them. To make the heretofore excruciating long story less excruciating, the bewildered referees blew their whistles vigorously to regain some semblance of control. The other 6 adjacent courts were totally stopped in anticipation of the 1st ever recorded bench clearing brawl in youth volleyball and were eerily transfixed on the crucial next few seconds in which either I was going to diffuse the situation by swallowing what was left of my wintergreen Tic-Tac sized pieces of dignity and sit down, or face a massive beat down by a 5'4" woman consevatively placed in her 40's. I sat down and we resumed play.
I would like to tell you we prevailed and in the end justice was served. What really happened was we lost in 3 (their team was superior, they deserved to win) and I was the 1st to apologize for my behavior in the post game handshake. I recieved a trite, mumbled return apology from the opposing coach, and the 1st referee was actually nice enough to commend me on diffusing a potentially ugly situation. My Club Director (The Estimable Scott Jackson) thanked me for my humility and reserve in a bizarro like situation having heard about the ordeal from an observer, and at the end of the day it just felt like a garden variety tough loss in a big volleyball tournament. I guess I wish I could have held off on the screaming on my part for that split second, but like I said: I don't pretend to be perfect or even above raising my voice in a heated situation. But I am actively trying to change my behavior.
I just hope that coach from the opposing team gets her coffee at Starbucks and notices the Suggestion Box some time.
Thanks for Reading! Go Falcons!
Karl Katzenberger is a long time volleyball coach and devotee to youth volleyball in Minnesota. He can be found SCREAMING from the bench as the Head Volleyball Coach of Armstrong High School.
Comments/feedback about this column or other worldy topics are encouraged at ahsvb@hotmail.com. |
