That's the good ol' sound of a rubber ball smacking into my face. My eye stung for a few hours after the unfortunate run-in with the ball, but those are the breaks of a good game of dodgeball. Besides, the heart-pumping adrenaline rush from the game lasted far longer than my little injury.
That intensity is at the heart of why I wish the American Dodgeball Association of America was a real sports league instead of a made up concept from an amazing Vince Vaughn movie. If it was real, I almost certainly would have fantasized about the making the ADAA as a kid, even as most children dreamed of being in the NHL.
Alas, I am not a millionaire dodgeball player, but just another poor student who looks to find slivers of dreams somewhere amongst the reality. And that is why I jumped on the opportunity to play a game of intramural dodgeball with a team of friends last week.
I love the sport, if you can't already tell by now, and I think the reason why is the primal nature of it. Sure, hockey can get brutal, football can crunch a few bones, and don't get me started on rugby or lacrosse, but in those sports there's a goal other than hurting the opposing players. In dodgeball the only thing you’re focused on is hitting the other player with a ball and not getting hit back.
This intense, instinctive sport draws me in. When I play dodgeball, the gym turns into a gladiator's arena and a dual for ultimate victory begins. Surviving and conquering the court seems like an ultimate test. And as crazy as it sounds it's exhilarating to experience.
So I am grateful for dodgeball. I grateful for the wacky people who first got together and decided to whip balls at one another for fun. I am grateful for the friends I've played with over the years and great times I've had on the court. And most of all I am grateful for the feeling of joy I get when playing the game, the kind that lets me leave everything behind and live out a dream.
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