The Daily Athenaeum Interactive

Volleyball ... better than Brussels sprouts

DA Columnist:
Andrew J. Beckner
Sports Writer

I used to hate Brussels sprouts.
I would often cringe at the sight of the little green suckers, vegetables that bear an uncanny resemblance to those cocoons from the movie Gremlins.

But necessity often dictates the college student’s life, and one day a couple of years ago I was forced into eating my most hated food. After the colossal let down that was the Y2K bug, my grandfather had a lot of leftover food that he had stockpiled in the event of Armageddon (he grew up during the Depression, what do you expect?)
My family’s favorite method of supporting me in lean times has always been to provide me with food, so I got the bulk of what was in my grandfather’s cellar. Some Brussels sprouts were among the bounty.
A long time later, after my ramen noodles, servings of boil-in-bag rice and sacks of tortilla chips were long gone and my refund check a distant two months away, I faced a grim reality. There was no other choice. The only thing in my desolate icebox was a bag of unopened vegetables, taunting me and my hunger.
You know the feeling. A hopeless moment when that article of food (lima beans, stale cracker jacks, potted meat food product, etc.) you have been avoiding for months is the only thing left.
So I did it. I ate Brussels sprouts. And I’ve loved the little bastards ever since. I just needed to try them, that’s all.
Last Wednesday, during the assigning stories phase of our weekly sports department meeting, I was told that our regular volleyball writer couldn’t attend the weekend’s tournament.
“Can you go? You don’t have to attend all four games, you know.” my editor said.
“Sure,” I said. “Why not?” Why not indeed.
Almost instantly I regretted my hasty compliance. What was I thinking? What did I know about volleyball? Did my editors zap me with some mind control device? Surely, I thought, there is a better way to spend my weekend than watching a tedious sport devoid of any sense of excitement among others who, well, had no better way to spend their weekend.
Mumbling and grumbling and thinking I would rather be sleeping or watching the football game, I made my way to the Coliseum on Saturday.
Almost instantly I was surprised by what was unfolding around me. I could hear that old Life cereal commercial in my head, “Mikey likes it!”
Before the game, the ladies were laughing and joking with each other during warmups, having a good time. But once the whistle sounded, they were all business.
During the four games (yes, I attended the entire event despite my requirement of only one) I saw that weekend, I saw athletic competition, arguably at its finest. The combatants screamed back and forth at each other, calling out plays and adding encouragement. They dove for balls, sliding across the hardwood, producing a fingernails-against-blackboard sound that inevitably covered their bodies in floor burns. They hovered toe-to-toe in midair on both sides of the net, trying to coax the ball to remain lodged in their opponents’ face. They argued close calls, clapped their hands to rally the troops in times of distress, high-fived each other in times of success.
During timeouts music blared through the loudspeakers. At one point the Outkast song “Bombs over Baghdad” was played, a fitting metaphor since these women were spending a great deal of time intercepting projectiles with lethal intentions.
Coaches called timeouts, substitutions were made, plays were called, strategies were employed. In short, this was a real sport and one that was not only holding my interest, but gaining my respect. My only regret was that I was there in an official capacity, effectively prohibiting me from showing favor. I would have enjoyed cheering the girls on.
I witnessed a lot of things this past weekend, enough to make me want to come back again and again. In short, I’m glad that I was “stuck” with covering the Mountaineer Invitational. I’m now an official volleyball fan. Like my fear of Brussels sprouts, my apprehension about attending the games was baseless. I just needed to try something new.
Thus, I think I must reiterate how important it is that we, as students, support these women (and other sports we might instinctively think are tedious). It’s a great spectacle of athleticism, aside from the fact that we have some beautiful young women on the team. If only the Athenians could see them, women might have been the original Olympians and gotten a little more play on red-and black-figure pottery.
Next time the ladies are in town to play a little volleyball, check them out. You might just enjoy yourself.
And eat your Brussels sprouts, they’re good for you.

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