Beach Volleyball - Part 3
Kyle was breathing heavily and glaring into the sand as his teammate, AJ, pulled the tampons from his nose and tossed them flippantly off to the side. His nose was still bleeding, but it had slowed to a trickle. They huddled together, hands on knees, to discuss strategy.
“What’s with those serves?” AJ asked. “He was all over the place in the first set.”
“No kidding,” Kyle agreed. “And those blocks? Like, damn, man. In the first set he was just chasing me around. Now every time I go up for a spike he’s already there.”
“A dude with that much muscle mass has no business jumping like that, dude. It’s unreal. Roids?”
“Oh he’s on gear for sure.”
There was no flipping way they were going to lose to these two randos. He and AJ had played together from middle school all the way through college and he would rather give up meat and beer for the rest of his life than lose in the first round of an amateur tournament. He had no doubt that AJ felt the same. They already had plans for the $5,000 grand prize. Kyle and AJ psyched each other up, slapping each other’s shoulders and shouting their old team cheer.
They decided to do a split formation to receive the big man’s suddenly-epic serves, each standing close to the back of the play area - one on either side. The hairy meat-monster across the net served again and the ball rocketed in Kyle’s direction. He stepped into position to receive and managed to pop the ball into the air, but it left his forearms aching like they’d just been slapped by the hand of God himself. Kyle had received hundreds, maybe thousands, of serves from pro and semi-pro volleyball players for years, but not one of them hurt to receive like this guy’s did.
AJ got into position and jumped with both hands over his head, ready to pass it back to Kyle. The big hairy guy on the other side of the net followed Kyle as he sprinted to the far side of the net. He crouched to jump, mirrored exactly by his opponent, but AJ pulled a quick one on Team Monster Hunter. Instead of passing the ball to his well-guarded teammate, AJ just dumped the ball over the net. The too-pretty guy on meat-monster’s team dove for it, but wasn’t even close to making the save. Point Straight Up Monsters.
Finally on the board with a point in the second set, Kyle reminded himself that they had just trounced these two amateurs the previous set. Whatever kind of lucky fluke it was that put the Straight Up Monsters down 0-4 was over. Confidence high, he spun the ball in his hands as he got behind the line to serve.
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***
Peter and Greg were huddled up to strategize during the Straight Up Monster’s panic-induced timeout. He squirted a stream of ice cold water into his mouth and then over his head, letting the liquid cool him down as it dripped down the back of his neck.
“Slick moves, Greg. You really got them rattled.”
“Thanks, Peter. Can I have some of that water?”
Peter passed the bottle over and Greg squirted a healthy gulp into his mouth before handing it back.
“These guys are no joke, though. I think they already figured out what we’re doing. That’s probably why they called the timeout. Don’t be surprised if they switch positions here and there. Going forward, try not to key in so hard on the blond guy. Just mirror whoever gets their first touch.”
Greg hammered another fireball of a serve, but it was received with an impressive display of speed. As Peter had suggested, Greg continued following the Straight Up Monster’s power hitter. Peter got into position behind the big man, never taking his eyes from the ball as it seemed to float right to the bald guy. By the time Peter realized the pass was a fake, and that baldy had just dumped the ball over the net, it was too late to save it. Still, Peter dove after the ball hoping beyond hope to just get even a finger or two beneath it. It hit the sand just before Peter’s face did.
Spitting to clear the grittiness from his mouth, Peter got to his feet. The ball was passed to the Straight Up Monsters under the net, and the game continued.
The whistle was blown and the serve was sent over the net. It was a jump-floater. Not Peter’s favorite type of serve to receive. By hitting the ball just so to remove any kind of spin, the jump-floater meandered about in the air instead of taking a straight, diving path. Peter moved into position and pressed his wrists together, ready to pop it up to Greg. At the last second, the ball jerked an inch to the right. It rolled off of his forearm and into the sand. The Straight Up Monsters whooped and cheered like a pair of fraternity douche-bags when girls finally showed up at their ‘party’.
The intensity continued increasing throughout the second set. After going up 4-0, Team Monster Hunter had a six point hiccup, due largely to Peter’s inability to receive that dang float serve. Finally, they caught a break when the serve went out of bounds.
Peter, unfortunately, did not have a serve with anywhere near the power that Greg or even the bald guy on the opposing team could dish out. He had never practiced jump serves, let alone jump-floaters. What he had practiced, all of those hours spent with Vicky and the HoA team in the community center, was precise placement.
With a measured pace and a practiced toss, Peter Mayhew stepped into his serve. When the skin of his palm cupped the ball he could immediately tell the serve was on point. As he’d hoped, the ball soared over the net and came down directly between their two opponents. Each moved to receive it and they collided. Point.
The collision, though it did not require another medical timeout, did look rather painful. The Straight Up Monsters clocked each other in the head and then got tangled up on their way to the ground. Shaken but looking more angry than anything else, blood still trickling from both nostrils, tall-n-blond stared daggers at Peter, who smiled brightly and flashed him a friendly wave. At the rate this game was progressing, Peter and Greg might just get a first round win due to their opponents being unable to continue.