Redemption

Some have pointed out that I fell, quite literally, into a jackass trap the other day (see previous post). Believe me, the irony had not escaped me! Others have pointed out that perhaps I should have made up a better story--you know, rocket fire and IDF causing me to dive for cover with the resultant wounds worthy of admiration; instead of the scorn and scoffing that the truth seems to have engendered...

Realizing I may have painted myself in rather too poor a light, I (with your kind permission.... thank you) will relate the story of how we dominated on the Al Asad volleyball courts last Saturday. And, during these games, how I did not get hurt or even fall down!

First, check out the picture of the championship team, the viscounts of volleyball, the barons of bumping, the sultans of setting, the... well, enough of that.
Next, check out a close up of the medal--note the bronzish coloring of the first place gold medal--doubters beware, this is the first place medal. It is just that the young lady in charge of running the tournament had no idea what she was doing at a volleyball tournament, no idea regarding the rules, and, evidently, how the various color medals match up with the final rankings.
In fact, when all the teams gathered together for the tournament the first thing she said was, "I don't know much about volleyball, but I asked a guy and he told me some of the rules: no ‘lifts’, you can only use your hands--no feet, and it is OK to hit the net when you are trying to hit the ball." So, the immortal words of Meatloaf say that two out of three aren't bad; I have to assume that one out of three is bad. Because only the first of those rules she laid down was correct. Eventually, order was restored and we played on using a unique set of rules that had some semblance to the actual volleyball rules.

Now, sadly, someone on our team did get hurt--but it wasn't me... And I didn't cause the injury... Just so we are clear on the whole clumsy and falling down thing...