Volleyball Eve

'Twas the Night Before Volleyball by Brian Wheatley (2008)
'Twas the night before Volleyball, when all through the TeePee not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse( well maybe a rat). The Championship banners were hung by the raftors with care,in hopes that a new State Championship would soon would be there.

The coaches and players were nestled all snug in their beds,while visions of the Berkeley Prep Buccaneers were in their heads.And Coach Peters in her pajamas, and Coach Lanham on the couch, and Coach Batt wearing a hat had just settled the offense we would run for a long season's run.

When out on the road there arose such a clatter,I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.Away to the window I flew like a flash,tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen weight room, the lustre of midday to objects below,when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,but big yellow buses and volleyball players who were scared of their next defeat.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,I knew in a moment it must be our district opponents. More rapid then eagles, each team came to the Tee Pee and the reporters Perry and Tripp have to write in the paper that The Indians had them beat. Their names in sinc shouted by Wheatley's Wackos who called them by name: Now Lakewood Ranch! Now Bayshore Bruins!, Now North Port Bobcats and Charlotte Tarpons! On, Manatee Hurricanes, On Souteast Seminoles, Port Charlotte Pirates and all other teams who have been banned (like Buccholtz). Back to your buses! Back to your school! Now dash away!, Dash away! Dash away all!

As morning grew near and the crowds had gone home, the players were met with an obstacle so they ran to their safe haven called the gym. With the office full of new uniforms (they are sweet looking too) and new equipment await, Vern Gambetta was there telling then that Good was not good enough and there was more to be done.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the gym floor diving and sprawling of each player. As I drew in my head and was turning around,down the floor came alumni carrying a torch to hand it over.

They were dressed all in green, from their head to their feet,and their clothes were all tarnished with wrinkles and spots. A bundle of names that Coach Wheatley had written had flung on his back,and he looked like an Auburn grad just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,and the hairs on his chest was as white as the snow.The stump of a whisle he held tight in his teeth,and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.He had a broad face but with a six pack too ,that kinda looked like a wash board and a practice plan all crumpled up .

He was a great looking guy (don't laugh), a right jolly young coach,and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,and filled all the spirit bags, then turned with a jerk.And blowing his whistle,and giving a nod, out the TeePee he rose.

He sprang to his Durango, to his team gave a whistle,And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Volleyball to all, and to all a good night!" Good luck at Tryouts. New poll will start next week so get the last few votes in quickly.