That's me (#11) playing on a club team
in 1980 with my UW teammates
Growing up the only thing I wanted to be more than an artist was an athlete. Not just any athlete, an Olympic athlete. My childhood was spent dashing, jumping, swinging, leaping, swooshing and invariably hanging upside down for copious amounts of daylight hours. I personified the term "Tomboy" completely. While I did go on to play basketball and volleyball in college, the glory of this goal was way out of reach.
Volleyball became my mainstay and I spent over 30 years playing and coaching this fabulous game. It was where I met my husband 34 years ago and our social lives revolved around it for many, many years. I did come precipitously close to competing in this sport professionally. In 1980 I was invited to play in a co-ed league for the Seattle Smashers, but the 2 year old professional league fizzled that year and after just a couple practices my dreams were dashed.
Having a competitive spirit is an advantage in life that is hard to learn, so I am grateful I was born with it. At times me and my friends were overly-competitive and our coach/PE instructor in high school had to take us aside and give us the opposite of a pep talk. Seems insane right? But Title IX was fresh off the press and we were like ravenous bears set loose in a city where the trash had mounted due to a 2 week strike.
So watching the Olympics has become my recent sport and watching volleyball in particular. Dave and I have such a deep shared history with this sport. His language difficulties go by the wayside and we are transported to our active youth once again. Like everything in life, time polishes the hard edges and appeases the hunger so being relegated to "armchair athlete" suits me fine....especially during these glorious few weeks of the XXX Summer Olympics. Yet a twinge of "killer instinct" lingers from long ago days....I just need to be careful it doesn't injure me!
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