Did I mention Peanut's volleyball season started up again?! Did I ever mention I have a bit of an attitude?
This past Saturday was her first "official" game. Now by official I mean with a referee, wearing YMCA jerseys, group chants & bringing snacks.
She is on the "recreational" team until she turns 11. I did this for a few reasons but mostly because I want to make sure she truly enjoys it before she gets pushed too hard by coaches & or parents.
So enter Saturday. Playing against a non-YMCA team. Now the rules of play were set up at the beginning of the season YMCA & non alike.
The only rule that is different than real play is on the serve. The girl serving can pretty much stand in the middle of the court to serve, if she needs to.
The coach for the other team [even though his team was doing the same] --yells -[I mean] yells out. "This is ridiculous. These girls should be stepping back!"
Now I'm a firm believer in tone. One's tone & the way one goes about speaking can make all the difference.
This guy. His tone sucks. Pretty sure he has one tone and it's freaking loud. The ref went on to explain that the rules were established prior, blah, blah, blah but if the girls felt comfortable--to take a step back.
He continues to gripe. A huff here. Eye roll there. Touchdown arms here. Etc.
Anyway. Game over. We win. Change sides.
Now the pita & I get a front row seat w/coach crazy pants.
First up our best server & local neighborhood friend [over hand too] "k". She aces it. I rise to my feet. Clapping. Woooo hooo-ing! Yelling, "yay K! Way to go!!".
Coach crabby[CC]: ya because she's cheating. She's a cheater. [loud].
Me: excuse me?
CC: you guys cheat.
Pita: ya know, she's new to this overhand serve.
CC: like I care.
Me: really?! [I hate mean people especially mean & obnoxious ones. I feel my face getting red, hands shaking, I'm mad. - doesn't take me long . . . reactive? me?
[enter the pitas seat belt arm - you know the same arm your mom threw over your lap years ago?! ]
Pita: em, chill out.
CC: ya, listen to him.
[the Pita didn't like THAT -so he stands up. Now he's not a small dude. 6'9" 275. Coach Crazy Pants [Idiot] was maybe 5'11" 160 soaking wet.]
CC:[to the pita]: sit down!
me: [thinking --- can the pita go to jail if he smacks him? Who cares, hit him hard!]
CC: [again] sit down!
Pita: don't talk to us. Seriously. not a word.
It just got worse from there . . . .
Now that "high road" I was looking for last week Matty-O . . . . I was searching hard . . . like REALLY, REALLY hard to find it. I was [silently] hoping the Pita wouldn't find it though. Someone needed to stick it to the man, right?!
Meanwhile, our team was down 9 to 0. We kept cheering like we always do.
Game over. We win. 25-18.
And I felt really good for having found the high road.
So good, in fact, I showed Coach Crazy Pants where he TOO could find the "high road" while scratching my face [PITA style] as we exited.