Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Volleyball Spectator

Waiting to get on the court earlier tonight and the other team starts showing up. Two of the arrivals are this short girl and this monster of man wearing gray sweats and baseball cap. The sweatshirt simply says "FOOTBALL." I ribbed my team, "Hey, looks like we're playing Urlacher tonight."

My brother looks over. "You know how to play guys like that right? You serve the big oafs until they prove they can beat you."

It's a common theory. We all nod in agreement. The game before ours runs over a few minutes. We finally rush onto the court and start warming up. When I looked over to the other side I see they have 3 guys on the court (this is a co-ed 6s league) and the big guy's not one of them.

We get the first game going and they beat us pretty handily. We were trying a new offense, had a new player, and just didn't play well. Switch sides for game two. We got our shit together. We beat 'em by about 5 points in the second game.

All the while I'm watching the big dude watching our game. Two or three people came up to him randomly and shake his hand. You know what, it is fucking Brian Urlacher. We talk about it between the 2nd and 3rd game. Yes, it is most definitely Brian Urlacher. The girls ask why he's here. Who's he with? "The little girl," I answer, "The one with the big ______"

We kicked their asses in game 3. 25 - 12.

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