Category: Highlights

A mostly accurate report from this past Wednesday’s volleyball games

Out of clear blue sky shone radiant sunshine. A gentle breeze whispered through the green grass where the Social Lights circuit’s net stood waiting. For the first time this campaign, Heaven smiled upon the hardy campaigners. But the sunshine brought its own hardships. Muggy heat settled over the grounds, while clouds of buzzing pests laid siege to players and spectators alike. It only proved an old truth: troubles are traded, never abolished.

Cool Beans vs. Net+

The first affair of the evening paired the Joliet scrappers of Cool Beans against the radiant blue battalion of Net+ (Net Positive). The Cool Beans outfit answered the bell in greater strength than ever before. The faithful Zach, mighty Erik, quick-handed Zoe, powerhouse Sam, determined Monika, sharp-eyed Anna, and all-star Luke took the court beneath the command of their whirlwind skipper, Captain Jeremy.

It marked the first appearance of Luke and Anna this season, previous engagements having kept them from the opening tilts. Missing, however, was the borrowed Nephilim Adam. Rumor around the circuit held that he was still nursing the sting of helping his adopted club fall to his own home church the previous week.

Across the net assembled Net+ (Net Positive), the cheerful contingent from Wheaton. Their trademark sunshine had lost none of its brilliance despite last week’s bruising engagement. Captain Sherrie kept spirits high while her blue-clad campaigners warmed up with the easy confidence of a club fresh off victory. Everything pointed toward a lively scrap.

After the customary rock-paper-scissors ceremony, Net+ earned the opening serve from the southern court. Marissa stepped to the line while Nathan, Eric, Jackson, Aleia, Anran, Laura, Deepthi, and Captain Sherrie stood ready. The whistle sounded. The first serve of the evening climbed high into the summer sky. It was a stout one.

The opening exchanges proved every bit as stubborn as advertised. Long volleys carried the ball back and forth while neither outfit gave an inch. The score crept steadily upward until both clubs found themselves deadlocked at four all.

Then the complexion of the affair changed. Since their last appearance, Captain Jeremy had plainly put his outfit through its paces. The patchwork aggregation that had once struggled to communicate now moved with growing purpose. Serves were called. Sets came cleanly. Players trusted one another.

Cool Beans caught fire. Point by point the Joliet club pulled away until the scoreboard showed a commanding 20 to 13 advantage. Game point, in the bruiser’s favor.

Yet the blue battalion had no intention of folding its colors. With characteristic optimism, Net+ mounted a stirring rally. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. The pressure shifted squarely onto Captain Jeremy’s shoulders. One more point would finish the affair, but the serve remained in blue hands.

Jackson answered the challenge. The Net+ standout floated a sharp-angled salvo that barely skimmed above the tape. Anna refused to let it die. With a crisp thwunk she kept the ball alive. Erik hurried beneath it and delivered a perfect set. Reliable Zach rose and hammered a vicious downward slap over the net. Net+ scrambled desperately. Too late. The point—and the game—belonged to Cool Beans. 21 to 16.

Little time was wasted before the clubs exchanged courts for the second tilt. If the first game hinted that Cool Beans had discovered its identity, the second removed all doubt.

Communication flowed as smoothly as a practiced orchestra. Every player seemed to know precisely where the next touch would come from. Against the bright blue sunshine warriors, the Joliet bruisers looked transformed. They stormed ahead 10 to 4.

Then came Net+’s answer. Star server Eric stepped behind the line and began sending missiles across the net. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Each serve found another crack in the Cool Beans defenses, and the blue battalion roared louder with every point. The tide threatened to turn.

Sam and Luke exchanged determined glances. As the next ball arrived, Luke calmly set it high above the tape. Sam thundered it back. Net+ returned. Monika, Anna, and Erik answered together in perfect rhythm. The blue battalion managed one final touch before the ball slipped away.

The score stood 15 to 11 in favor of Cool Beans. From there the rallies only grew longer. Neither outfit surrendered easy points. Boots dug into the turf. Voices rang across the court.

The blue battalion fought with every ounce of its trademark spirit, but the Joliet club had discovered something it had been searching for since opening day. Unity. The wild dogs had become a pack. Cool Beans marched steadily to a 21 to 13 triumph, sweeping the evening’s engagement in straight games.

The customary handshakes followed, warm and sincere. Though defeated, Net+ lost none of the sunshine that had made them one of the circuit’s most beloved outfits.

Captain Jeremy gathered his victorious campaigners near the sideline, where cheers and laughter broke out in earnest. The whirlwind skipper declared that his club had every intention of chasing the circuit championship.

With the official business concluded, players from both outfits mixed together for several friendly affairs outside the league standings, proving once again that fierce competition and cheerful fellowship can comfortably occupy the same field.

Serves Him Right vs. The Chosen

As the first hour drew to a close, the second-hour outfits had already begun filtering onto the grounds.

Serves Him Right answered the bell clad in black, the Oak Forest contingent resembling a patch of charcoal scattered across the emerald grass. Other witnesses insisted they looked more like a crop of dark mushrooms after a summer rain. Reports vary.

Captain Ian spared only a passing glance toward the celebrating Cool Beans club. Their triumph mattered little to him tonight. His thoughts were fixed upon a greater challenge.

Across the grounds, the undefeated giants from Monee were arriving. The Chosen emerged once again like figures from some enchanted woodland—towering, colorful, and more than a shade intimidating. Their coordinated pink and tie-dye jerseys only added to the spectacle. If vampires truly sparkle in the sunshine, this reporter imagines they would look something like the Monee club.

League officials Audrey and David summoned Captain Ian and acting Captain Matt beneath the net to determine first serve. Ian’s rock made short work of Matt’s scissors. With a satisfied growl and what several spectators described as a decidedly feral grin, the Oak Forest skipper claimed the opening serve.

Jacklyn accepted the ball and prepared to serve it.

Just before the opening volley, an unexpected reinforcement arrived. Cool Beans standout Sam crossed the grounds, pausing play, and quietly asked Captain Ian whether he might join the Oak Forest outfit for the evening. Ian rested a hand upon his shoulder and nodded. He was willing to temporarily put aside his rivalry. Unable to aid his own club in its previous defeat at the hands of The Chosen, Sam had come seeking redemption. If he could not beat the giants with Cool Beans, perhaps he might help the halflings accomplish the feat. Sam took his place on the field.

Ian met server Jacklyn’s eyes and gave a solemn nod. The serve went up. The affair was underway. The onyx-clad little folk squared their shoulders against the towering prismatic giants. Though they had to look up, they never once blinked.

The opening exchanges crackled with tension. Serves Him Right held the advantage through the first two points before one of The Chosen’s towering pink-clad beanstalks casually swatted the ball.

Two all. The little outfit held stubborn determination. Ian, Ed, and Sam combined for several well-placed returns, reclaiming the serve and steadily building a modest lead.

Soon the scoreboard read four to two in favor of Serves Him Right. The gallery stirred. Could the little black-clad campaigners truly halt the relentless march of the Monee powerhouse? For a few shining moments, it appeared possible.

Then the giants awakened. One of Captain Ian’s stars misplayed a difficult return, surrendering the serve. The opening proved costly. Point by point, The Chosen seized control.

Their height, timing, and effortless communication gradually overwhelmed the determined little outfit. Every rally demanded heroic effort from Serves Him Right, while the Monee club appeared almost graceful in its efficiency. The scoreboard tilted steadily in pink’s favor. The first affair closed with The Chosen carrying off a 21 to 14 victory.

The little folk gathered tightly beneath the net. Captain Ian did not speak a word to his team. Instead he offered steady nods and determined looks that carried more weight than speeches ever could. The encouragement stiffened weary spirits. Whether it could overcome weary bodies remained another question altogether.

The second tilt proved an altogether sterner proposition. Captain Ian, Sam, and the stubborn little campaigners answered the bell with every intention of evening the score, but the towering Monee outfit gave them scarcely a moment’s hope. The Chosen played with the smooth precision of a veteran club, their height and grace making every difficult play appear almost effortless.

From the the northern court came the cheerful refrain of one of The Chosen’s smaller lasses.

“Kill it, Chris!”

The command became the evening’s chorus. Chris, by all accounts one of the friendliest fellows in the circuit, required only the slightest motion of his wrist. Time and again he brushed at the ball as though swatting away a troublesome fly, sending it darting to the grass before the little folk could answer.

The scoreboard climbed with alarming speed. Still, Serves Him Right refused to quit. Every point was chased. Every loose ball was contested. Every rally was met with fresh determination.

During one especially spirited exchange, the diminutive Oak Forest contingent finally appeared to have caught the giants out of position. A sharply driven return nearly found the grass untouched. Nearly. One of The Chosen’s stars somehow flung himself backward, catching the ball with a remarkable scissor kick that sent it floating safely back into play.

The gallery gasped. Serves Him Right, momentarily stunned by the feat, could not recover before the return came sailing back. The point belonged to The Chosen.

Soon the giants stood at game point, leading 20 to 9.

Captain Ian gathered his little band one last time. If defeat was inevitable, he was determined they would not leave the court with a single-digit tally beside their name. The halflings answered. Digging deep, Serves Him Right reclaimed the serve and scratched across another point.

Ashley stepped behind the line and delivered a fine serve. The Chosen handled it cleanly. The ball crossed once more. The dwarves fought desperately to keep the rally alive, but the return drifted toward the towering figure of Chris. His teammates exchanged knowing glances. Chris answered them with a friendly smile. Then, with scarcely more effort than one might use to brush dust from a sleeve, he snapped his wrist. The ball struck the grass with a sharp thwunk. The affair was finished. The Chosen carried away the second game, 21 to 11.

Cheers rang across the grounds as the pink-and-tie-dye giants celebrated their sixth victory in as many league tilts. They whooped, laughed, and shook the earth with enthusiastic leaps before crossing the court to exchange warm handshakes and genuine smiles with their worthy opponents.

Captain Ian accepted the congratulations in good spirit. He found he could not resent the colorful conquerors. To him, battling The Chosen had been less like facing another volleyball club than attempting to joust a mountain. All the same, the defeat was bitter.

The Monee juggernaut remained unbeaten, and the rest of the circuit would once again be left searching for the club capable of bringing its remarkable victory march to an end.

Looking Forward

As the dust settled upon the evening’s final affair, thoughts throughout the circuit turned toward the road ahead. Captain Ian wasted little time mourning defeat. His disappointment quickly hardened into resolve.

Across the grounds stood Sam of Cool Beans, still serving as the evening’s temporary ally. The two exchanged a long look. Captain Ian made it clear with a narrow eyed look that he was no longer welcome near his team. Sam stood his ground for several seconds before he quietly made his way off the field.

Ian’s thoughts had already outrun the present. At the league’s next gathering, his old rivals from Joliet would once again be waiting across the net. Serves Him Right versus Cool Beans.

The Chosen had proved too steep a mountain to climb this week, but Captain Jeremy’s scrappy outfit was another matter entirely. Ian clenched his fist. Reliable scuttlebutt around the circuit says the Oak Forest skipper intends nothing less than a sweep. He believes his rabid little midnight campaigners can outfight, outlast, and outplay the Joliet bruisers when next they meet.

Yet another story was unfolding on the opposite side of the grounds. As Sam departed, his thoughts lingered not upon Cool Beans’ victory over Net+, but upon the towering club from Monee. He carried with him the sting of having missed his own team’s first encounter with The Chosen—a match many believe might have ended differently had he been present.

This evening had given him something more valuable than revenge. It had given him a close look at the circuit’s reigning giants. Captain Ian regarded The Chosen as a force of nature. Sam did not. He had seen cracks beneath the polished surface. Height could be countered. Power could be redirected. Communication could be disrupted.

By the time he reached the parking lot, one suspects a strategy had already begun taking shape. When Cool Beans next squares off against the undefeated Monee powerhouse, Sam believes Captain Jeremy’s outfit will be ready. Perhaps, at long last, it will be time for David to bring down Goliath.

The circuit resumes on Wednesday, July 22.

This reporter intends to be on hand once again, notebook in pocket, keeping an ear open for every whisper of scuttlebutt and an eye on every spirited volley. For an amateur league, this campaign has begun to simmer hotter than a skillet at suppertime.

Until next edition, keep your ear to the ground, your eye on the circuit, and remember: The best stories are still waiting to be written.

Week #2

A mostly accurate report from Wednesday June 24th’s volleyball games

The sunshine trickled out of the heavens like water from a leaky bucket. Beneath the blue-black sky, the poles of a wind-tossed net stretched upward toward realms inhabited by birds and angels alike. A storm was brewing. It wasn’t just the weatherman who knew it.

Cool Beans vs. The Chosen

The scrappy core of the Cool Beans outfit strode onto the grounds. Six sturdy campaigners—steadfast Zach, stalwart Adam, spirited Zoe, strong Eric, and speedy Monika—all followed the blazing whirlwind that was Captain Jeremy. The Joliet club has exceptional bones and a body full of promise, perhaps unmatched anywhere in the Social Lights Volleyball Circuit.

Standing across the net was a decidedly unusual opponent. The eclectic turnout from the previous engagement had almost entirely vanished, replaced by what looked to be an altogether different aggregation. The outfit that emerged that Wednesday resembled some exotic jungle frog—bright, colorful, quirky, and unmistakably dangerous. Though, they maintained their penchant for gigantism. They appeared as polychromatic Frisian Nephilim crowned with birthday hats.

The two Captains met beneath the net. Captain Bethany’s scissors neatly dispatched Captain Jeremy’s paper, handing the opening serve to The Chosen—a small portent of things yet to come.

The opening tilt began with the Monee club bearing down heavily upon Cool Beans. Point after point piled onto their side of the ledger while the Joliet scrappers struggled to answer. Tactical chatter came slowly from Cool Beans’ southern court. The chromatic giants were having things almost entirely their own way.

Captain Jeremy loosed one of his trademark battle cries. It wakened both him and his bruisers. Suddenly he seemed to be everywhere at once, flashing across the court like summer lightning. The tide began to shift. Confidence wavered among the bedazzled Nephilim as Cool Beans fought tooth and nail for every point. But The Chosen had no intention of surrendering the advantage they believed rightfully theirs. They battered and clawed their way to game point, leading 20 to 17.

Determined to prove their mettle, the Cool Beans contingent took possession and started on a tear. Against the odds, with Captain Jeremy volleying shots to every corner of the southern court, the Joliet outfit rallied furiously.

Twenty all. The gallery fell silent. Players and spectators alike seemed unwilling to breathe.

Then came the decisive moment. Serving for Cool Beans stood the lone Monee defector now wearing Joliet colors—a tall, fleet-footed campaigner preparing perhaps the biggest serve of the evening. It was a beauty.

The many-hued mythic beings received it awkwardly and nearly let the ball die where it fell. A nervous current swept across the northern court. They knew full well that surrendering this point would end the victory march they had begun the previous meeting. Two hurried volleys kept the ball alive. Then a desperate reverse strike sent it soaring toward the Cool Beans side. Immediately Captain Jeremy recognized the ball’s path.

“Out!” he called.

Its course plainly carried it beyond the boundary. Yet instinct can be a dangerous thing. One determined Cool Beans performer stepped beyond the line and reflexively popped the ball back into play with both hands. At an awkward angle the return sailed harmlessly beyond the northern boundary.

For one frozen instant nobody moved. Then the Monee contingent exploded. Like glitter on a rolling boulder, The Chosen erupted into celebration, having escaped with a razor-thin 21-20 triumph over one of the grittiest outfits in the circuit. The near miss landed like a prizefighter’s right hook square to Cool Beans’ midsection.

Shaken but not broken, the Joliet club exchanged sides with The Chosen and prepared for the second affair. The rainbow-clad giants again insisted upon dictating the pace. They surged ahead early. Cool Beans staggered but stood. Bit by bit the scrappers battled back until the scoreboard read ten all. It would prove the high-water mark.

The Chosen found another gear. Their towering performers rattled off point after point while Cool Beans struggled to wedge so much as a single tally between them. The Joliet contingent scratched out a handful of hard-earned markers, climbing to fifteen, but every gain was answered immediately by the Monee powerhouse. Soon enough The Chosen stood at game point once again.

Captain Jeremy flew from sideline to sideline like a tornado tearing across the Oklahoma plains, defending impossible shots and refusing to yield. But even whirlwinds can miss a strike. A single fatal error ended the contest. Heads lowered across the Cool Beans court as the bruisers dropped the second tilt by a count of 21 to 15.

The Chosen slipped quietly from the grounds like mystic elves disappearing between the trees of an enchanted forest. Their mission had been accomplished. Their honor remained intact. Their undefeated standing within the circuit lived to see another week.

Captain Jeremy gathered his outfit together after the affair. The conversation was earnest. Determined faces met determined faces. Before the club dispersed, each member vowed to do whatever was necessary to settle accounts the next time The Chosen stood across the net. The dope around the circuit says that rematch cannot come soon enough.

Serves Him Right vs. Net+

Meanwhile, the second-hour outfits began filtering onto the grounds. Serves Him Right, the determined contingent from Oak Forest, answered the bell early and took to the field behind the Cool Beans–Chosen affair for a bit of practice.

Several rooters claimed to have spotted Captain Ian casting long glances toward the neighboring court as Cool Beans absorbed its second defeat of the evening. One can only speculate what sort of wicked grin may have slashed his face as his chief rivals found themselves twice on the short end of the ledger.

League officials David and Audrey, meanwhile, kept a wary eye fixed upon the northern horizon. The black clouds were growing. League official David carelessly waved away concern, assuring everyone that the storms would pass harmlessly by. League official Audrey appeared unconvinced.

Not long afterward, the blue army of Wheaton, Net+ (Net Positive), answered the bell ahead of its scheduled 7:30 engagement. With the preceding contest already concluded, league officials urged Net+ and Serves Him Right to take the court early in hopes of stealing a game before the weather could steal the evening. Though a bit disappointed by the hurried proceedings, Net+ took up positions on the northern court. Their bright blue shirts shimmered beneath the gray sky like a patch of clear Kansas heaven.

Overhead the clouds remained little more than a silver haze. To the north, however, enormous walls of black thunderheads stood watch like an advancing army. League official Audrey glanced skyward once more.

The blue battalion occupied the north. Across from them stood the Serves Him Right outfit—vertically challenged perhaps, but carrying themselves with all the confidence of giants.

The opening serve was struck. Heavy electricity seemed to fill both the air and the atmosphere. Serves Him Right seized the initiative almost immediately. The darkness overhead appeared to sap some of the sunshine usually radiated by the blue-clad contingent. Point by point the Oak Forest club widened its advantage. As the affair continued, worried eyes drifted from the ball toward the northern sky and back again.

Captain Ian alone seemed untouched by the growing unease. Noticing uncertainty creeping into the faces of his own mini performers, he fixed them with a fierce stare and let out a low growl that carried clear across the court. The effect was immediate. His little outfit straightened as though snapped to attention.
Several members of Net+ appeared to catch the same fiery glance. Some witnesses insist they visibly wilted. Whether true or not, the scoreboard tells the tale. Serves Him Right carried off the opening contest by a commanding count of 21 to 9.

The blue battalion trudged toward the southern side of the court for the second game. Their brilliant sea of blue seemed almost faded beneath the gathering clouds. Between the approaching storm, the hurried pace of the evening, and the sting of defeat, spirits had plainly sunk. If a downpour had begun at that moment, it’d have been hard to determine whether raindrops or tears fell down their faces. Even Aleia, usually the brightest light in the Net+ contingent, wore an expression as gray as the sky itself.

The second tilt began in haste. League official David spent nearly as much time studying the northern horizon as he did the court before him. The players found themselves doing much the same. Serves drifted thoughtlessly into the grass while anxious glances darted skyward between volleys.

The affair scarcely had an opportunity to find its footing. At the first flash of distant lightning, David called the stillborn game to a halt. Some insist the whistle only came after Audrey opened his eyes to exactly what was unfolding overhead.

Expecting a cloudburst at any moment, everyone sprang into action. The league net came down in record time. Equipment disappeared into the league official’s vehicle. Players scattered. The unfinished contest seemed destined to become a casualty of the weather. Many felt they had been robbed of a proper scrap.

Yet the evening had one more surprise tucked beneath its rain clouds. When the grassy dust settled, Audrey had already departed for home. David stood alone beside his vehicle, having packed away the last of the league equipment. It was then that he noticed something unexpected. The entire Serves Him Right contingent. The entire Net+ contingent. Every last performer. They were all standing before him. Waiting.

Captain Ian stepped forward to communicate what was on the hearts and minds of all present. He seized league official David by the collar of his shirt and raised him high as his arms reached. Some present insist the league official’s feet actually left the ground. Without a word spoken, Ian made one thing abundantly clear. His club intended to finish the contest. There were no two ways about it.

League official David posed one final question. Was everyone willing to accept the risk of lightning in order to finish the evening’s business? A forest of raised hands answered him. Each and every athlete present proved willing to hazard the storm for one more crack at victory.

David declined to reassemble the official court. Instead, the clubs marched across the grounds to the sand volleyball court nearby. There, beneath a sky that threatened everything but delivered nothing, Serves Him Right and Net+ took their places once again.

The contest began anew. Whatever had been left behind on the abandoned court remained there. The score. The frustration. Even the looming threat of the storm itself. Both outfits took the sand as though answering the bell for an entirely new engagement. The risks had been accepted. Death had received its courteous nod. Lightning and thunder now amounted to little more than background music. League official David looked from the determined dwarfish contingent of Serves Him Right to the gleaming blue battalion of Net+ and appeared just a shade uneasy at the intensity he had inadvertently unleashed.

Whatever cloud had hung over Net+ during the first contest had vanished. The drizzle struck their bright blue jerseys only to flee again like steam from a locomotive. Their celebrated sunshine strategy was roaring back to life. Captain Ian, however, had no intention of surrendering so much as an inch of sand without a vicious struggle.
From the opening serve it was plain that this would be no runaway affair. The points came hard. Each outfit earned every inch of ground. Though the blue battalion had recovered much of its former fire, Serves Him Right continued to hold a narrow advantage through the early going. Net+ refused to be left in the dust by the vertically unencumbered Oak Forest club. Instead they dug in. The score crept steadily upward. Rain began to fall. Not a soul paid it the slightest mind. The tally reached sixteen all.

Each splash of rain kicked sand across the court, coating bare hobbit feet in the south and blue uniforms in the north. The tension hung over the grounds so thick that a butter knife would have struggled to cut it. Point by point the two outfits battled onward. Seventeen all. Eighteen all. Nineteen all.

The gallery—what few faithful had remained beneath the threatening heavens—stood rooted to the spot. On one side, the sunny warriors of Net+ answered every challenge thrown before them. On the other, the determined Lilliputians of Serves Him Right stubbornly refused to yield. The pressure bore down equally upon both clubs.

Serves Him Right sent up a solid serve. Net+ received it cleanly. What followed may well have been the volley of the evening. Three crisp touches carried the ball back across the net. Serves Him Right answered with a tidy set and a driving return. Net+ calmly kept it alive. Again the ball crossed. Again it returned. Neither outfit showed the slightest willingness to blink.

Then came the decisive moment. Nathan, stalwart conscript for the blue battalion, saw his opening. Charging forward with admirable speed and, observing every applicable rule, he hammered the ball sharply into the little folk’s territory.

The point belonged to Net+. Nathan celebrated with a cry that one witness described as sounding remarkably like a hyena attempting to imitate a donkey. Whether this account survives careful investigation remains uncertain.

His comrades rushed to congratulate him, and the blue battalion seemed to radiate enough sunshine to blind the opposition. The point brought Net+ to game point, 20 to 19.

Aleia, Nathan, and Captain Sherrie stood poised as Laura stepped to the service line. She launched a stout serve sailing high over the net.

Captain Ian and his diminutive campaigners found themselves nearly blinded by the brilliant nimbus surrounding the Wheaton contingent. Trusting instinct more than sight, the little outfit dove as one toward where they reckoned the ball must surely descend. Their dogpile was all for naught. The nearly transcendent serve kissed the very corner of the court and settled safely inside the line. The affair was over. Serves Him Right had fallen.

A mighty chorus of jubilation rose from the blue battalion. Players embraced one another from every direction as their trademark bright spirits finally carried them into the victory column.

Captain Ian slowly disentangled himself from his pint-sized campaigners and looked across the court. There before him unfolded a sight difficult for even the hardest competitor to resist. The Net+ contingent celebrated not with arrogance or self-aggrandizement, but with the unrestrained delight of athletes who had fought long and finally earned their reward.

Even a serious operator like Ian appeared touched. The dope making the rounds afterward held that the Oak Forest skipper bore not the slightest grudge against his conquerors. Indeed, some particularly imaginative witnesses insisted the captain even shed a tear of happiness on Net+’s behalf. This reporter remains highly skeptical of that last claim. After all, everyone knows real men don’t cry.

Looking Forward

With the official business concluded, the two outfits mixed their performers together for several friendly affairs outside the league standings. Laughter replaced battle cries as the evening wound toward its close.

Captain Ian, however, betrayed little more emotion. As his travel-sized aggregation laughed and fraternized with the victorious blue battalion, the Oak Forest field general appeared to be engaged in sterner business. He was preparing himself. His thoughts had already marched ahead to the next engagement.

Awaiting his little outfit stood the still-undefeated powerhouse from Monee—The Chosen The coming affair promises to be nothing short of David versus Goliath. Ian knows well that standing across the net from the towering Frisian giants will be the stiffest test yet faced by his determined little band.

Yet reliable scuttlebutt says the captain’s confidence has not wavered a whit. He believes that enough sweat, enough practice, and enough stubborn resolve will enable his underdog elves to accomplish the impossible and sweep both league tilts from the mighty Monee club. Ordinary victory will not satisfy Captain Ian. Nothing short of legendary triumph will do.

This reporter owes the faithful an apology for the tardiness of this account. It should have reached your doorstep more than a week ago. Nevertheless, it arrives just in time for tomorrow’s engagements.

The saga resumes at 6:30 when the radiant blue battalion of Net+ squares off against the scrappy Cool Beans outfit.

Then, at 7:30, all eyes will turn toward what may prove the hottest scrap of the young campaign as Captain Ian and his determined little aggregation attempt to topple Captain Bethany and her towering assemblage of giants.

Until then, keep your ear to the ground, your eye on the circuit, and stay tuned. This campaign is only beginning.

Games from Week #1

Games from Week #3

A mostly accurate report from this past Wednesday’s volleyball games

The Social Lights Interchurch Volleyball Circuit burst onto the scene between two gulley-washer storms on Wednesday evening. The dukes were raised and four tough-as-nails outfits went at one another like dogs scrapping over the last steak in the icebox.
According to the athletes themselves, the evening was a rip-roaring success. But bigger questions linger. Are monumental feuds already brewing? Which club is truly the champion of the circuit? And where, when the chips are down, do loyalties really lie?
Social Lights recently put out a call for hard-boiled champions willing to represent their churches in an epic campaign of volleyballmanship and volleyball-ladyship. From that summons emerged four remarkable aggregations, each eager to establish its standing in the young circuit.

Meet The Outfits

Serves Him Right

Serves Him Right hails from a church in Oak Forest on the southeast edge of the suburbs. Leadership of the outfit is shared among three siblings: Ian, the field general; Jenna, chief wrangler; and Grace, tactician extraordinaire. Though rooted in Oak Forest, this aggregation assembled the most far-flung contingent in the circuit. Athletes answered the call from as far south as Crown Point, Indiana, and as far north as Inverness. The distance between those two points would keep a motorcar occupied for nearly two hours. Such dedication speaks volumes.

The Chosen

The Chosen represent a church in Monee. Scuttlebutt around the circuit paints them as a crack volleyball outfit loaded with talent. Though unable to answer the bell on opening night, team captain Bethany already enjoys a reputation as one of the premier aces in the league. The Monee contingent also received several unattached athletes from the circuit office. Whether these newcomers can quickly fall into step with the rest of the aggregation is one of the early storylines of the campaign.

Cool Beans

Cool Beans comes out of Joliet. Captain Jeremy assembled a contingent of close friends to carry the banner for their church. The circuit office supplemented the club with a healthy helping of unattached talent—more than any other outfit in the league. As a result, Cool Beans may prove one of the most fascinating clubs to watch as the campaign unfolds. Will the lads and lasses learn to pull on the same rope? Only time will tell.

Net+ (net positive)

Net+ may be the most unusual aggregation in the entire circuit. Rather than drawing from a single church, the club is composed of Christian athletes from an Ultimate Frisbee association in Wheaton. Their core consists of dedicated performers with a history of tackling personal and athletic challenges together. Reliable dope suggests that morale within the club is second to none. If enthusiasm alone won championships, Net+ would already have one hand on the trophy.

Wednesday’s Opening Tilts

The original start time called for six o’clock. Then Mother Nature intervened. A goose-drowner of a storm rolled through the region and forced officials to push proceedings back by thirty minutes. Members of Cool Beans and Serves Him Right nevertheless arrived before the appointed hour and found a wet but sturdy field of play awaiting them.
Several of Cool Beans’ more distant campaigners were prevented from coming by the storm aftermath. To round out the lineup, the club borrowed two capable women from the Net+ contingent.
According to several athletes, league official Audrey had previously indicated that each time slot would feature three contests. The official on site, David, appeared blissfully unaware of this arrangement.
“You think I read the email?” multiple witnesses reported hearing him remark.
David ruled that clubs would contest only two official tilts, with a third affair available on a voluntary basis and excluded from the standings. The ruling did not appear to delight the assembled athletes.

Cool Beans Vs. Serves Him Right

Shortly before half-past six, the first athletes took their positions. Cool Beans and their borrowed Net+ reinforcements occupied the south side of the court. Serves Him Right dug in on the north.
A fierce rock-paper-scissors struggle determined the opening serve. Not a single eye wandered from the yellow-and-brown sphere. The whistle sounded. The campaign was underway.
From the very first volley, the affair developed into a genuine melee. Before either club could scratch across a point, the ball crossed the net no fewer than a dozen times. The score remained deadlocked for much of the opening tilt.
At six-all, Jeremy unleashed a battle cry that reportedly startled nearby wildlife. Cool Beans caught fire. Serves Him Right found themselves trapped in a rut. Though they battled gamely and managed to reach seven points, Cool Beans surged ahead and carried off the opening contest.
During the intermission, several observers claimed they witnessed Ian gathering his contingent into a tight huddle and delivering what could only have been a fiery address. Whatever words were exchanged, they worked.
When the second set-to commenced, a new steel had entered the Oak Forest outfit. The score once again remained neck-and-neck. This time, however, Serves Him Right refused to yield an inch. The clubs battled all the way to a deadlock at nineteen-all. Then disaster struck for Cool Beans. Ian and his warriors unleashed a thunderous rally. Brimstone seemed to rain from the heavens as Serves Him Right stormed ahead and captured the second affair.
Jeremy later characterized the result as an encouraging near-victory and expressed optimism that additional practice would help his club round into shape. Whether he truly appreciated the fury his lads and lasses awakened in Ian’s contingent remains uncertain. Reliable dope suggests the feud may not be over. Not by a long shot.

The Chosen Vs. Net+

As the first hour drew to a close, athletes from the second slate of contests began arriving. Word circulated that captain Bethany would miss opening night due to an out-of-town engagement. In her absence, command of The Chosen fell to acting captain Gabe.
Then Net+ arrived. And what an arrival it was. Bursting onto the grounds in matching bright-blue shirts, the Wheaton contingent answered the bell in force.bSome observers even claimed to detect visible sunshine following several of the club’s star performers. These reports remain unconfirmed. Nowhere was Net+’s remarkable morale more evident than in captain Sherri, whose enthusiasm appeared capable of powering small machinery.
At half-past seven the athletes took the court. Net+ occupied the south side. The Chosen took the north. Another high-stakes rock-paper-scissors encounter determined opening serve rights. The Chosen emerged victorious and took the ball.
What followed can only be described as murder in the first degree. Net+’s pep never wavered. Unfortunately, neither did The Chosen.
The towering Monee aggregation stormed onto the court like conquerors. With a lineup seemingly composed of giants, The Chosen overwhelmed their opposition from the opening whistle.
Some witnesses claimed acting captain Gabe possessed the uncanny ability to whisper instructions directly to the ball itself. Whether this is true remains under investigation. The Chosen captured the first contest by a staggering score of 21-6.
Facing the reality of the powerhouse before them, Net+ regrouped. The second tilt proved far more competitive. The score remained close through the early going. At ten-all, however, The Chosen caught fire. A blistering rally carried them all the way to game point at twenty.
Then came one of the evening’s most impressive displays of determination. Net+ refused to fold. The blue-clad performers mounted a stirring comeback and rattled off point after point. For a brief and glorious moment, the gallery dared to imagine the impossible. But champions finish. With one of their trademark jackhammer spikes, The Chosen slammed the door shut and claimed the contest 21-13.
No hard feelings appeared in evidence afterward. Players exchanged handshakes and congratulations. Net+ clearly recognized that they had encountered a worthy adversary. They also demonstrated the value of loosening up beforehand, nearly defeating The Chosen in an unofficial third affair played after the standings were settled.

Supper, Scuttlebutt, and Suspicion

As the net came down and the athletes departed, the storms apparently decided their turn had arrived. Dark clouds rolled back in and reclaimed the field.
Many athletes gathered afterward for supper. Jeremy and the Cool Beans contingent celebrated the evening’s success with gusto. Several members of Net+ joined enthusiastically. The Serves Him Right contingent appeared somewhat more reserved. One witness insists Ian spent much of the evening brooding in a corner while occasionally directing death stares toward the back of Jeremy’s head. This report also remains unconfirmed.
Few members of The Chosen attended the meal. However, one particularly interesting morsel of scuttlebutt emerged. A Cool Beans performer revealed that he actually belonged to the Monee church represented by The Chosen. Through an apparent misunderstanding, he found himself placed in a different club than many of his lifelong friends and churchmates.
Coincidentally, the circuit schedule has Cool Beans and The Chosen squaring off in the very next slate of contests. Draw your own conclusions.

Looking Forward

According to the official schedule, the circuit resumes action on Wednesday, June 24.
The opening hour will feature Cool Beans versus The Chosen. The two biggest winners from opening night will finally collide. Can Cool Beans halt The Chosen’s victory march? Will captain Bethany answer the bell and perhaps outshine her smooth-handed stand-in, Gabe? Will borrowed loyalties become divided loyalties? The dope around the circuit suggests this may be the hottest scrap of the entire campaign.
The second hour will feature Net+ against Serves Him Right. Can Net+’s unmatched morale carry the blue battalion to a double triumph? Or will Ian and his iron-willed contingent impose their resolve upon the Wheaton club?
No date has yet been announced for a rematch between Serves Him Right and Cool Beans, though several rooters have already begun clamoring for one.
When questioned after supper, Jeremy and Sherri expressed enthusiasm for the young campaign.
“There’s a lot of talent out there. We saw it today. I’m just excited to play some friendly ball against fellow brothers and sisters. To me, it’s less about winning than it is about playing our best for our teammates, churches, and ultimately to glorify the Lord who gave us these talents,” Jeremy remarked.
When approached for comment, Ian reportedly grunted, crushed the cinder block he had been curling, and walked into the night while a trail of dust followed behind him. He offered no further statement.

One thing is certain. The campaign is underway. And this reporter intends to remain on the scene, gathering every scrap of dope and every morsel of scuttlebutt available.
The faithful are invited to join the excitement on June 24, July 8, July 22, August 5, August 19, and September 2 for the championship finals. All contests will be held at Stonebridge Park in Homer Glen on Stonebridge Drive. Until then, keep your eyes on the circuit.

Games from Week #2