“There are strange things done in the midnight sun, by the men who moil for Gold.
The Arctic trails have their secret tales, which would make your blood run cold.
And the Northern Lights have seen queer sights, but the queerest they ever did see;
Was the night on the marge of Lake Laberge, when I cremated Sam McGee.”
The Cremation of Sam Mcgee is a really dope poem by Robert Service. You should read the whole thing. Its funny, and surprising, but most of all deals with a universal human experience.
The cold sucks!
No one likes it, your fingers and toes getting stiff, and that slight pain in your cheeks where it kinda feels like they are burning and freezing at the same time. So we are faced with a brutal choice. Do we layer up, with long socks, tights, and the puffiest of jackets for the sport we love? Or do we find a gym, deal with blisters, raspberries from the dives that we couldn’t help ourselves from taking, and the terrible argument of whether Timmy kicked the net or was it just slide from that danky pocket.
A few days ago, my mates and I headed indoors, (being from the south we had decided that “too cold” was 40 degrees). But the gym was insanely crowded and we couldn’t get a spot.
After wandering for a few minutes someone had to say it.
“Sooo… are we going to do this thing outside….”
“Worth it.” That is all that Jesse said, but he was right. I didn’t think he was right the first time I served and my hand stung worse than my daily shot of Lysterine. But two and a half hours, 3 tweeners, and too many dives to count later, I knew he was. Outside was totally worth it.
One point in particular stands out. It began when I attempted a cut serve followed up by curling to my right. Easy pocket up which they elected to play, but a slightly off net set and I took off backwards before the hitter even dropped his shoulders. My partners got short. No Doubt. But this ball wasn’t short. Not by a country mile. No 25 foot boundaries for us. I’m gaining, but not as fast as the ball is dropping. Slide time. See, the one advantage to the cold is the dew, at least in Louisiana, shows up at about 8pm. And boy did I slide. Left about a 10 foot trail of slightly discolored grass in my wake. And it didn’t hurt one bit. Nothing but smooth sailing..sliding.. (guys can we make smooth sliding an expression. I think we can. Let’s make it happen!) Sure we lost the point because I couldn’t get up because I was flying through the grass at what surely must have been 35mph . But it was worth it.
Outside is always worth it.
What do you guys think? When do you switch to court? Any #allweatherballers out there? Lets chat about it in the comments?
–Joseph St. Cyr