Last night, Ben and I went with some people from Spring Arbor's fire department to play WhirlyBall in Ann Arbor. For those of you who have never heard of WhirlyBall, let me break it down for you. Whirlyball combines lacrosse, hockey, and basketball with bumpercars. There are 10 players (5 players for each team) on a court for 12 minute periods. As you crash into one another you must try to get the whiffle-type ball in your team's net/basket. Every player is given a "scoop" which is used to catch and pass the whiffle ball. So, not only do you have to try and get this ball into your team's hoop, you must also drive your bumper car, play defense, and try to avoid whiplash or severe bruising...I accomplished none of these things last night.
Let me just say that I am not the most kinesthetically inclined person you'll ever meet. I usually avoid any type of sport that involves equipment of any type. I can barely walk without tripping over air. I ran cross-country in high school because I figured it involved the least amount of coordination. I honestly loathe organized athletic participation. So, while I was excited to hang out with fun people last night, I was less than excited about playing a sport that requires you to be uber-coordinated.
Okay, so I avoided playing the first couple rounds. I wanted to watch first and see what I was up against. The people that were standing with me as I watched assured me it was easy and so much fun. One person warned me that I would probably end up with bruises on my legs, but it was fun. What?! How can a sport which involves internal bleeding be fun?! Why can't we play "See who can get the best deal at Gap?" or "What movie is this quote from?" I would mop the floor...mop the floor.
So, after a couple of rounds, I decided to display my lack of athletic ability proudly. I'm pretty sure I embarrass my husband on a regular basis, and last night I think he regretted not having me pass some sort of athletic test before he proposed. I got into my bumper car and tried to become familiar with the steering mechanism (more commonly known as the bane of my existence). We were told to turn it one way to make it go right, one way to make it go left, all the way around to make it go in reverse, and then all the way back around to go straight. Everyone nodded as if these were the simplest instructions ever to be given. I looked around in horror and considered faking a seizure. They (and by they, I mean the people controlling my misery...and the electronic court on which the bumper cars moved) flipped the switch and the game was afoot. I spent the first two minutes in a corner trying to figure out how to get my car to move. I frantically turned my steering thing and kept going nowhere. Meanwhile, everyone else was effortlessly moving back and forth down the court throwing a ball. The guy controlling the floor yelled at me to turn my steering thing around. Oh, turn it around...why didn't I think of that...thank you captain obvious. So, I finally get it moving only to get stuck down at the other end of the court. By the end of the first period, I was feeling like I was getting the hang of it, so I decided to stay in another period. I guess for some reason I felt I hadn't met my quota for public humiliation yet. This time Ben played and was on my team...a decision I'm sure he'll regret until he dies. By the end of that quarter, the score was our team - 0, the other team - 80 gagillion. Also, I kept slamming the steering thing into my leg, and so by the end of two quarters I was pretty sure I was hemorrhaging in one or both of my legs. I decided my time on the WhirlyBall court was over for the evening.
If anybody is wondering, I have four significant bruises on my legs.