Posterous theme by Cory Watilo

The Way the Cookie Crumbles

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered incredulously as I walked into the room where all of the volleyball teams were supposed to meet.

“What?” Aaron asked, a knowing smile on his face.

I opened my arms in the direction of the numerous Southern students waiting for the meeting to start. They were all lean, tall, athletic-looking types. “They’re going to destroy us!”

“If you tell yourself you’re gonna lose, then you’re gonna lose.”

I opened my mouth to say something else, but decided against it. I rubbed my temples and chuckled. “How did you get me to join a volleyball team?”

“Hey,” Aaron pointed at me. “You were the one who said you wanted to join.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” I let my eyes wander around the room a second time. “You know that someone in here is going to spike the ball into my face a break my glasses, right?”

“Quit worrying!” Aaron said. “Help me come up with a name for our team.”

Reluctantly, I followed Aaron to some empty seats, and we started brainstorming. As more of our team members arrived at the meeting, more possible team names were thrown onto the table. Just when we were about to pick between “Swag Surfers” and “Spartans,” another one our teammates walked in wearing a t-shirt whose blue Sesame Street character would decide our team’s name.

I looked from Aaron to the shirt and back again. “Please don’t…”

Aaron put on a sly grin and nodded slowly. “Cookie Monsters.”

So we became the Cookie Monsters, and as the name of this blog suggests, we weren’t all that great. Our first game was terrible, but fun. We all scrambled around, clearly confused as to our placement, and joked about how badly we were getting beaten. I was having such a good time that I didn’t even mind when the ball smashed into my face, bending my glasses out of shape.

Having been locked up in the library for ages, the volleyball intramural allowed me to get out and do something different. It was really helping me to burn off some stress. I would always leave the gym feeling energized and ready to get back to work. Whenever the day got tough, I knew that I could look foreward to volleyball. It was always on my mind. After dozing off in class once, I even awoke when I threw my arms up, trying to bump an imaginary ball. 

Regardless of how much I loved the sport, however, we were on a losing streak. No matter how often we met to practice and how much we improved, we just couldn’t seem to beat any of the other teams.

Finally, our chance came – we were scheduled to play against the only other team that had yet to win a game. We strutted into the gym feeling confident, ready to emerge as the victors…and emerged instead as the losers, feeling defeated and discouraged.

 After that game, things became a little bitter on the court. We accused each other of missing easy volleys, argued about who said called a hit first, and allowed entire games to pass in solemn silence. For a short period of time, volleyball became a chore. We all claimed that we were only playing for fun, but our faces said otherwise.

I don’t know who or what triggered it, but we decided after another losing game that since we were going to lose anyway, we would lose as a team. Newly motivated, we started to practice before games, making sure to encourage each other instead of put each other down. We tried to think positively, and at the request of a few of my teammates, I even stopped using verbs like “destroy,” “annihilate,” and “obliterate” to describe how badly the opposing teams would beat us.

Over time, we begun to overlook faults and focus primarily on strengths, making us a stronger team. We cheered each other on, didn’t get upset over a few missed volleys, and even gave a few teams a run for their money. Though we continued on a fairly impressive losing streak, we actually started to enjoy ourselves again.

When the day of the final game arrived, four of us marched onto the court and assumed our battle stances. We were outnumbered and missing teammates, but we were all determined to go out with pride. The game commenced and we played like warriors. We jumped to block enemy strikes, dove to save the falling ball from hitting the floor, and shouted things like “Mike Strike!” (Mike had a great serve) and “Eat that!” (a Cookie Monster reference). No matter how hard we fought, however, the other team had better organization and got the ball right back over the net without breaking a sweat. Just when it seemed as if all was lost, two of the missing members on our team ran onto the court – late but ready for the final battle.

I’d like to tell you that we, the underdogs, defeated the obviously experienced team and jumped around in slow motion while confetti fell from the ceiling and the credits began to roll, but that’s not what happened. Despite our best efforts, we lost the final game. What happened next, however, was truly deserving of a Hollywood ending. Rather than hang our heads in shame, we congratulated the other team for their awesome victory and congratulated each other for the effort put in. The compliments we gave each other were not empty – they were genuine. We were proud of each other even though we had once again emerged defeated. With broad smiles on our faces, we grouped together and shouted our slogan one final time.

All throughout the gym, it could be heard: “Num! Num! Num! Num! Num! Cookie Monsters!!!”