5 July 2001- 3

The court hadn't changed. Dust an inch or so deep, tall pines hanging their boughs over the net, half-buried wooden logs for the sidelines.

Volleyball.

The only sport I have ever shown any passion for.

First learned it by jungle rules on the mountain campus not far from here. Then in graduate school, I was allowed to join the noontime games at the Radiation Bio group. People who took v-ball seriously. Their only break from days-long sessions of trying new radiation and chemo treatments against thousands of petri dishes of human cancer cells. People who spent their only week of vacation scrimmaging with a professional volleyball team.

And Ari, the small exchange student from Iran. Who went home just before the Islamic Revolution in that country. When I play volleyball now, I still wonder what happened to Ari.

Serious v-ball. On a University lawn. By the rules, but everyone was expected to call their own fouls. No need for refs.

And now I haven't played in two years. Not since Ruby ripped out her knee on the court and ended our tenure as the oldest team in the city league. I'm usually horrid after a long hiatus, too uncoordinated to even hit the ball with a perfect set.

But not today. I've lost weight in the past half year, and it shows. I can jump. My first contact with the ball is a one-handed block clear across the net against their two best spikers.

I'm on!

It's staff vs leaders, and only half serious. If the ball hits a tree, it is still in play.

If a ball hits one of the logs and bounces into the court, it is still in play.

You have to watch the rock sticking up in the serving corner of the east court.

And the setting sun is in the eyes of whoever is in the east court. The dust is thick in the air.

Leaders won, four games out of four.

The last was played by jungle rules, with staff members leaning down on the net so their buddies can spike.

Near the end of the last game, the young man with the red and white knot nailed one across the lowered net. I knew exactly where his hit was going to go, and placed myself in the right spot.

Only I was a little too low. Took the ball in the face, which threw the glasses off one way and one lens off the other.

He was all apologetic, and I kept having to reassure him it was no big deal.

I've been spiked in the face by semi-professionals. This was nothing.

But it was great to get back on the court. Perhaps it will be time to rejoin the city league this winter.