Written by Jill Schwendenmann
I can still remember my excitement from over a decade ago, when my third-grade gym teacher would excitedly shout, “We’re playing dodge ball today.” Hearing those words as an adult has no longer brings joy and excitement, rather anxiety and terror, as I timidly stepped onto the third-floor of the RPAC.
Jeff Starr, a sixth-year student and captain of the team winked at me and said something that ended with a smile on his face, but I was too busy wondering why I got myself into this. There I stood, a human target, praying I would be able to dodge a ball that was about to fly like a red missile at me, without looking like a complete fool.
Going to my first club dodge ball game I thought I knew what to expect, but to my surprise there is a lot more that goes into the game than a person in the stands may see. The pain is worth the experience in the end, but only if you love the game
“When I was a kid I always loved playing dodge ball, once I hit high school I had to come to terms with it being a real sport, when I went to the involvement fair at OSU, as soon as I saw their booth I went to every practice, three days a week,” said Jeff, as he opened the door to the upper courts for me.
Jeff was about 5-foot 10-inches and 200 pounds of muscle. He could palm the red dodge ball. The only thing all 5-foot 3-inches of me can palm is a red apple. He had been playing dodge ball for Ohio State since 2012, the same year I started attending school.
I met Jeff in one of my classes this semester. We were the super-seniors, so we had to stick together. When I found out he played dodge ball for Ohio State, something I didn’t even know existed, I wanted to know more.
According to Jeff, Ohio State club dodge ball is currently ranked 16 of 32 teams but have been in the top 10 by the end of the season. The national tournament is held at Virginia Commonwealth University in April and is played over a two-day span. Over 100 teams attend, vying for a chance to take home a trophy and more importantly, the honor of being first place.
“The tournament is the craziest weekend of my life,” Jeff said, as he started stretching his right leg in preparation for the grueling three hours that lie ahead.
Jeff had been accustomed to spending two hours at the RPAC every Wednesday and looked forward to seeing his best friends and fellow teammates, Dylan Greer and Ben Johnson. Being a unfamiliar face around 25 people who couldn’t wait to take me out with one swift throw was intimidating but we had the next hour or so to practice and warm up for the game.
Jeff, Dylan and Ben gathered us in a circle, and introduced me as, “the brave new girl,” something that gave me a sense of confidence.
As the team starting stretching, first the arms and neck, then the legs and lastly the wrists, I was already playing catch-up on how to stretch properly. Jeff came over to me and jokingly told me not to worry, I would have one hour to learn the rules and master skills that most of the team have perfected over years of blood, sweat and tears.
I would have two 25-minute match scrimmages to put my new skills to the test.
We started with a warm-up called target practice. I was given a ball and was told to throw it hard and accurately at the tape on the wall. My first throw was hard, but not accurate, as the ball bounced high off the floor and sounds of laughter filled the air. I continued to get better and better, hitting the target hard, each throw giving me more and more confidence. For the next drill we ran laps around the court for 15 minutes. Okay good, I thought to myself, running is something I’m good at, I can do this. I led the pack with confidence, running hard with good form thinking maybe I wasn’t as out of shape as I thought and this was going to be okay.
But then the worst happened, I tripped and landed straight on my face, skinned my left knee and instantly bruised the palm of my hand. I could not help but laugh at myself realizing that it could only get better from that point.
Wrong. It got worse, a lot worse.
Before the scrimmage started Jeff, Dylan and Ben gave me a run down of the rules and what to expect. Jeff said it was going to be teams of 12 on 12, Dylan explained the basic rules and Ben tried playing Eminem’s, “Not Afraid,” song to pump me up. By the end of the song the referee arrived and the nerves started to set in.
The opposing team was made up of 12 people, four girls and eight guys, all who have practiced and played for years, while I had a few hours under my belt. They looked muscular and made me feel intimidated, I started having second thoughts, and thought what did I get myself into. Ben came over and by the look on his face he could tell I was nervous. He told me not to be afraid of the ball, but his comforting words didn’t do much to calm my shaking hands. We were now lined up on opposites sides of the glistening court waiting for the whistle to blow.
As we stood on the line, I asked Jeff if he still got nervous before matches after playing for so long.
“I love the adrenaline build up and embrace it, nothing is better than seeing a nice face-shot or a crazy catch, those always get me pumped,” he said.
The trill of the whistle sounded and the next 25 minutes was pure chaos.
“My first and last Ohio State Dodgeball match left me with a few scrapes and bruises, but more importantly a new respect for the game and the people who play it,” I said.
People were getting hit right and left. The squeaky sounds of their tennis shoes sounded as they dodged balls thrown from the opposing team. I quickly dodged a ball headed straight for my stomach, before I could even celebrate I got nailed in the face. The sting from the ball startled me and the pain began to set in. The noise of the hollow rubber ball hitting me was like a rhythmic melody and my yelps from stinging pain became the harmony.
“You only need to hit her once guys,” Jeff shouted as I made my way back to the bench, a seat that I became extremely familiar with.
“I knew we should have had her watch ‘DodgeBall’. Channel your inner Ben Stiller,” Dylan shouted back.
Jeff had explained earlier, if someone catches a ball you threw you’re out and once you get hit, you’re out. The only way to come back into the game is if someone on your team catches a ball thrown by the opposing team. If everyone was eliminated from the team you lose. I sat there secretly praying no one caught a ball but seconds later Dylan caught one that was making a beeline to his face.
“Let’s go Jill, try not to get hit for the twentieth time,” Dylan sarcastically screamed.
After managing not to get hit or throw a single ball in the last two minutes of the match, I proudly jogged off the court at the sound of the whistle. Our team had won the match and everyone was smiling ear-to-ear in between gasps for air, the claps of sweaty high-fives being given were paralleled with pats on the back.
As I chugged the water that Ben brought for everyone while holding another cold water bottle against my sore face, Jeff asked me if the match lived up to my expectations. I tiredly said I never realized how intense dodge ball was as a sport, how competitive everyone can be and how close the community is. Everyone was so proud of each other and I was proud of myself for trying something new.
“My favorite part about dodge ball is the community, we call ourselves a dodge ball family and its so true, everyone is supportive and its all about the integrity of the game,” said Jeff as he once again held the door open for me, “But once the game is on, its all about competition, whenever I convince someone to come watch they are always amazed at how much goes into it.”
