The closest I ever got to playing team sports when I was younger was my two eldest siblings and me vs. our dad in kickball in the backyard – with the odds still in Dad’s favor – and crab soccer in middle school gym class. Any other team sports experiences have been blocked from my memory, because they started with the torment of being singled out and summarily defeated before the real game even began. I’m not very athletic. Or coordinated. But more than that, I’ve never thrown myself into the “popular” crowd. The trifecta for being picked last in high school gym class. So as soon as the forced P.E. participation period of my life was over, I never looked back.
With my limited athletic experience, I had no idea what to expect when I signed up for Outdoor Chattanooga’s first-ever bouts of kayak polo, offered every Thursday in September. Kayak? OK. I’m pretty sure that’s one of the first words Chattanooga children learn how to say. I had become personally acquainted with a kayak last season when I took two of Outdoor Chattanooga’s roll classes in which I (unsuccessfully) tried to learn to flip one back up, with me still in it, from an upside-down, underwater position. Note: There were many children who easily showed me up. But my bit of kayaking experience came in handy, as you have to know how to at least “wet exit” a kayak from that same strapped in, underwater position in order to play kayak polo. And that is second nature to me. Call it instincts. But polo? What is that other than a brand worn by the kids who weren’t picked last in P.E.?
It turns out kayak polo is kind of like crab soccer in terms of novelty and fun factor. The object is to throw and “dribble” the ball down the “court” and into the opponents’ goal, defended by a goalie. To do so you must work as a team, since no player is allowed to paddle with the ball nor hold it for more than a few seconds before throwing it to – hopefully – a teammate. The court was only one-half of the Warner Park Pool, but we still got a workout.
I recognized many of my fellow players from the roll classes. It was obvious they’d
taken more than two. You could tell by the way they immediately kicked into gear – and motion – violently swishing their hips side to side and deftly digging in and cutting the water beside their boat in half with their oars. I was kind of like the Roadrunner, spinning my wheels but not much else as I tried to work up speed by
throwing all my might into long, far-reaching strokes, hips braced to steady myself as my kayak wobbled with every wave. Meanwhile, a clash of boats and paddles swarmed the ball that had landed in my general vicinity, leaving me unguarded. Thankfully my dad’s affinity for high-arcing, far-flinging kicks in our backyard kickball games taught me how to catch. Despite my self-consciousness over my skills, I chose – and was chosen, I’m proud to say – to participate in the team plays by catching and throwing the ball down the court. Just don’t ask me to dribble.
My team didn’t actually win the two nights that I played, but each point was a win on its own. With every successful pass or play, I scored an enthusiasm and appreciation for team sports. Being an integral part of something bigger than yourself has a kind of exhilaration I’ve never felt before.
I also gained a better feel for kayaking. The environment and inviting clear water of the pool, coupled with the fact that I was there to have fun and not beat back my fears, took a lot of the edge off being strapped into a claustrophobic craft I still don’t quite know how to command. I will never seek the exhilaration that comes from single-handedly besting Mother Nature in a raging whitewater river, but there was definite payoff in figuring out how to maneuver the boat, which brought more mindfulness to my movements.
Kayak polo was an all around win for everyone involved, including me. I even got to show off my wet exit skills twice. I will admit, though, that the directive to “flip” in order to prove them was an internal game of chicken. But I survived high school gym class. I can survive almost anything.