Winter Dodgeball - Week One: Our Standard Start.

In which we lost one, won one, and insured that some new people have it out for us. Is this the eternal fate of Team Awesome? Eh, it's worked for us in the past, so I shan't fret too terribly.

I think we were all ready for the new season to start. "Ready," of course, being a euphemism for champing at the bit and suffering from advanced cases of bloodlust. Between the end of last season being dragged out because of the holidays, and then having a month off between seasons, we were ready for some ball-to-neck contact. (I'll pause for giggling, you childish, immature saps. Are you done?) I was rocking my new Nike Dri-Fit socks, which made for a snappy complement to my already blacked-out attire. And while they certainly looked sharp, I was more interested in seeing how they would perform.

As I drove to the game, slamming Mt. Dew Diet Amp and listening to Fiddy lament the many men who wish death 'pon him, I willed the butterflies in my stomach to take refuge in my right arm, where they could do the most good. My throwing arm - which I'm fairly certain some of the people in the league have started referring to as "The Angel of Death" - didn't feel rusty exactly, but the time off had certainly made me question if it would be able to perform at peak capacity. I drove, checked the clock, and knew I wouldn't have to wait long.

Or so the official schedule led me to believe. In an unprecedented turn of events, the actual dodgeballs we were to be winging at each other weren't there when we arrived. And they didn't show up until about a half-hour after our first match was supposed to begin. Not a good way to kick things off. In the interim we occupied ourselves with rigorous stretching exercises and the tossing around of rubber balls (which I equated to swinging a weighted bat in the on-deck circle), but by that time the Amp I had chugged had ran through me, and our initial level of excitement had waned a bit. But not much. We were still ready. Or at least we thought we were.

Our first match was against a team who we had played in at least one previous season, and I recall them being a decent squad, but they made us look like rookies out there, handing us our worst loss in recent memory. The video up top there is our first match of the season. Again: not a good way to start things off. And the proceedings were not with out controversy.

In this vid from our second game, you can see a couple of wise guys on the opposing team conspire to take me out, which they do, by simultaneously hitting me in the mug and the gut. The ref ruled me out, which I took issue with, and you can see me politely arguing the call. My position? It's tough to catch the ball aimed at my midsection when there's one drilling me in the eyeball. This had happened to me last season and I let it go, but this time around it riled me. The ref pulled me aside after the match and let me know he'd bring it up at the next ref's meeting, which actually appeased me. Such are the gripes of a man with a price on his head. That price? Respect.

The controversy continued, as this spry little dude on their team took one in the back and acted like it didn't happen:

At this point we were falling apart, and there was no hope of picking up the pieces. We left the court dejected, finding ourselves on the losing end of a 6-1 match that showcased plenty of finger-pointing, a little bit of swearing, and a heaping helping of frustration.

After a 20-minute break between matches - which is just enough time to lose your gusto - we were back on the court, but not against the team we had anticipated playing. Turns out, because of the schedule being pushed back, one of the refs screwed up his math and told them to come back at a certain time, which ended up being ten minutes into the match that we started with a different team because one of the other refs thought the team we were supposed to be playing never showed up. Just more chaos in an already ramshackle evening.

I didn't recognize the team we were playing, but it became clear from the get-go that they were not to be taken lightly. After beating us quickly in the first match (see above), we made a conscious effort to stop fucking around and finally started to play like we cared. And it felt nice. Here, finally, is a video of us winning:

And we kept it up. It was a well-played match on both sides, and though there was a little smack-talking (that was quickly cleared up), the win we ended up with felt solid and without any major controversy. That team, once they play a little bit more, is going to be good. They've got some dudes with some arms. Those dudes just don't have any aim.

So, we were feeling slightly redeemed, and a little bit better about how the evening ended up. Aside from one of the girls from the first team pulling some "Oh no you dih-ant!" shit outside after our matches (it was so retarded I can't even bring myself to type the words that were coming out of her mouth), the night ended slightly better than it began. A split decision in our first night out: we've been here before. And we'll get our shit together and make the best of it. I'm already looking forward to next week.

More videos here.

I usually link to the standings, but they're all jacked up because of the confusion with us playing the team we weren't supposed to, blah blah blah. I'd say Underdog is cracking under the pressure, but what pressure?