I avoid living vicariously through my son, but not when it comes to Dodgeball. I signed him up through the park district, and okay, I’ll admit it–it might’ve been because I heard adults could play, too–so last night was our introductory session. Jack was reluctant to play. That is, until he quickly realized that together, he and I make a viable force–serious contenders. I’m no athlete, but there are four exceptions: Dodgeball, Four-Square, Racquetball and Tennis. If it has a ball, I’m IN, and I play with PASSION. So does Marovich, which is one of her many great BFF qualities.
One of my favorite movie scenes was this one (link below) with Justin Long and Vince Vaughn in the movie Dodgeball–a catchphrase I like to repurpose a lot: “If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball.”
My “Sister Wife” friend Maura snapped some photos of me last night. I called Marovich this a.m. admitting that images existed, but that I wasn’t about to send them to her. “Tell you what,” she coaxed ever-so-smoothly, “Just send them over… I’ll decide whether or not they’re blackmail material.” That Marovich. Always thinking.
Marovich and I loved Dodgeball as kids. We were reminiscing about playing over the phone, and she reminded me how she “used to love it when someone wasn’t looking and (I) could nail them right in the head!” I had the unpleasant task of informing her that head shots are no longer allowed. “What the shit is THAT?!?” she sneered, in sheer disgust. I agree. We’re raising a nation of wimps clad in bubble wrap, hovered over by helicopter parents.
I don’t know if it’s just our park district, but the red, rubbery balls I remember fondly from childhood are no longer used in today’s version of Dodgeball. Now they use these lightweight, spongy wimp balls that don’t deliver the leverage I like for hitting hard.
So Marovich and I are now in hot pursuit of an Adult Dodgeball League. This may be our last middle-aged gasp at going for the gold. Dare I hope (Dare, dare…) that there’s a Dodgeball Olympics?!?