my first (and last) volleyball team

When I was 14, I enrolled myself to join the school volleyball team. No, not that I’m interested in volleyball … but because I heard the volleyball team comprised of an entourage of tough guys. How cool was that! My juvenile mind somehow fabricated its own logic that joining the volleyball team would be cool. So, I was in the team.

Charles joined the volleyball team too. But I can vaguely remember his motive of joining. Let’s just say, we were glad to have each other’s company to be in that team. So, I was kinda like excited for the first day of training in the volleyball team. The idea of getting the opportunity to be amongst the tough guys somehow made me felt important and the anticipation was unbearable.

Then came the first day of training. I expected a lot of rigorous practices and shits like that. When I arrived at the court with Charles, we already saw some of our seniors started the practice .. with the coach yelling some volleyball jargons that neither of us could comprehend. It looked exciting to us initially, but as soon as we got in pace with the practice, we instantly knew that we made a wrong choice to join the fucked up volleyball team.

The coach turned out to be a contemptible mean fuck. He had the penchant for yelling at anything. Heck.. he yelled so much that it made the entire volleyball practice session looked like a Nazi concentration camp. Charles and I hated him. He was especially mean to both of us rookies — as we’re a little bit slow for being new and all that.

So, the first session turned out to be very wrong instead. It was all about us getting yelled at. Instead of feeling cool as I had initially expected, it made me felt like an unwanted vagrant. The practice sessions that followed were much worse - eventually, I get to learn that the entire volleyball fucktard team were as sick as the coach himself. We (me and Charles) were constantly hooted whenever we did simple mistakes and was also asked to pick up balls that strayed out from the court. We’re like, their slaves or something. Fuck!

Then came to the day when they over-DID it. The whole bunch of volleyball team members ordered myself and Charles to prepare the team some drinks. Fuck. I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life before. We were given a pail and a bottle of cordial juice (forgot what flavor, although I very much hoped that it would be diesel). We were suppose to mix up a pail of cordial drink for the volleyball team .. and carry it to the court from about 100m away. We had no choice but to comply with the order.

As the two of us were waiting for the torrent of water from the tap to fill up the pail, I was suddenly struck with the idea to retaliate their abhorrent deeds. I suggested to mix the drinks with something ‘extra’, if you get my drift. Charles, being the kind of dude that shared my kind of thinking, supported the idea. And we went on with the conspiracy to mix them volleyball assholes a cocktail that would bless their body with ‘extra nutrition’ — courtesy from Michaelooi and Charles. The ingredients? The cheapest (it’s free..) and most practical one available to us - water, cordial syrup and DRAIN WATER.

We weren’t sure what would become of them. We just brought that pail of cocktail and put it at the side … then proceeded to act like we did not do anything wrong (simple minds back then). And when the coach called out for a break, we took our pleasure looking at those assholes quenching their thirst with our self-made cocktail (that probably contained a whole republic of bacteria picketing the sudden environmental change). None of those freaks actually figured out the weird taste of the drinks — coz when they’re so weary and thirsty from the punishing practices, they practically gulped the whole thing down their throat.

Retaliation was never sweeter for both of us.

After that practice session, we bailed out from the fucked up volleyball team ….. that was because we do not play with tacky sportsmen that drinks drain fucking water