I wanna Iron something out here

Sometimes you really gotta Iron stuff. The value of a quality Iron should never be underestimated.

by the way, there's some advertisement above this. I think its about flights to Abu Dhabi or something, just click on it. I get paid like a cent or something every time someone does that. k peace.

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First off, I know the general public doesn’t have a great appreciation for the movie nacho libre, and they have valid points, but lemme, say this, the nun is… well as Larry Millers father would say, God bless her she’s a healthy kid. But more importantly, when Jack is speaking in a bad Spanish accent and the only Spanish word he uses is Neno’s, it kills me. Moving on.

I’m still in the middle east. It looks like my team has been eliminated from the tournament, now all that is left to do is to get home. Riyadh Dubai, Dubai Washington, Washington Denver, Denver Calgary. Should only take 3 or 4 days. It was 32 degrees here today in Riyadh…its -23 degrees right now in Red Deer. So that’s something.

I believe I’ve spoken about my father on here before, he’s a great guy and I thought I’d share a story about him that he told me once years ago, I think it still bothers him, and he turned 70 in October. But here’s how it came about.

I was sitting around my room trying to remember what it felt like to play high level vball so what I decided to do is see if I had any game tape of games I thought did well in. turns out I had some stuff from this past summer and I can say, I think I’m my worst critic, because watching the game tape, I didn’t do as terrible as I remembered. So that was nice, (but I do think to reach a certain level in anything you do you have to be very critical of yourself), and I got to thinking, I wonder if I’ll show these games to my kids someday? Are my kids even gonna give a what about sports…Jeez am I even gonna have kids? (side note: I’m certain that if I have a daughter she will be a complete flusey, and it’ll make my life… ache and I’ll go through numerous years of melancholy. This isn’t going to be a reflection on the girls mother, I just know there’s some sort of karmic effect that says this is whats gonna happen.)

Anyways, because I was thinking about this, I started thinking about my own Father. For anyone who’s met him, you knows he’s a very undisturbed man. The only thing he likes better than playing himself some bluegrass licks on his guitar is heading down to Tim’s to have a chin wag with the regulars and to tease the ladies behind the counter. But as I mentioned before, he’s 70, and about 50 years ago, this man was a force who could muster inertia like a locomotive, (you get that sorta strength living on a reservation farm) and apparently this did him well when he went to school. Residential school sucked, and he doesn’t talk about it much, but what I was able to get out of him was that his high school won the provincial football championship his senior year. He even showed me the team picture, in which he had to point himself out because I didn’t recognize the big Indian in the front row.

Anways, what I wanted to tell you about is that he had to go to school away from the rez where his family was. I’m not exactly sure how far it was but he rarely got to see his parents, maybe once or twice a year, BUT on one special occasion that senior year my grandparents were able to make the trip to my fathers school to watch him play football. Now my grandparents had never seen my father play sports before, so this was a large deal for him. I’m sure he couldn’t wait to show his parents what he could do on the field. At any rate on the day of the game, with my grandparents in the crowd, my father was so overwhelmed with the magnitude of the situation that on one of the first plays of the game, he got overzealous and jumped the snap or something like that and drew the attention of the referee. I think what happened is Dad vocally disagreed, then turned his back on the ref. Keep in mind this is back in the day, this was basically weeks after dudes dueled after slapping each other with leather gloves so what my dad did was rude, but most of all, it was out of character for him. Anyways the result of this was my father got kicked out of the game. Like 3 plays into it.

So lets recap, my grandparents got to see their son maybe a couple times a year, they left the farm to be tended to by others for days which couldn’t have been cheap or easy for them, and when they get there to see their son play, he gets kicked out. Man that’s got to throb. My father tells me that was the only game he ever got kicked out of, and I think it still eats at him.

So I’m not really sure why I felt the need to share that story. Maybe I’m attempting to take on some of the things he’s been carrying for a while so he can have a lighter load to manage. I think I just love my father and was thinking about him.

Now just listen up, she's a professional.

So the Following is a email I dug up from the ol archives. Its something I received from a friend who was playing for the first time in Europe. Thought you might like to hear what her deal was like.

Europe is sweet, and I have some Canadian company in (canadian name) which is nice. My gripe of the day is concerning our fans.

We have a group of rowdy obsessive middle age (male) fans that follow us from game to game with drums, noise makers and copious amounts of alcohol. And we're talking road games that are six and seven hours away mid-week so I'm beginning to think these men are all unemployed and without families which would explain a lot. And it's not like they take their own cars either (how can you afford one when you never work on Wednesdays and Saturdays), they travel with us on OUR bus and usually begin drinking around 11 am for an 8 pm game. So that's just great. For example this weekend we traveled to (european town). We had to be at our bus at 7:30 am to leave for a 7 pm game. Every fan has to make a point of coming around the bus and giving me a high five at 8 in the morning when all I want to do is curl up for three more hours of sleep. Instead I have to make stupid small talk in dumb broken english (the language I now speak) and pretend I'm happy to see these dirty, smelly men. There's one especially, I call him Zack Galifranakis because he has a nasty beard and according to my team mates he is not all there in the head, who INSISTS on talking to me in (a euro language) over the back of my seat when I am not only reading an ENGLISH book, but also have my headphones in listening to ENGLISH music. Then every two hours we stop so the fans can go and indulge their chain smoking habit then come back in and stink up the bus. Zack G takes special pains to make sure that the area near my seat smells like an ashtray. It quickly becomes the longest 6 hour bus trip I've ever taken. Unfortunately that's the pleasant leg of the journey.

On the way back, I start to regret that we actually won the game because the fans are extra jovial as a result. Again, whilst reading and listening to music I am forced to down five shots and one glass of champagne otherwise I risk getting a reaction of whiney, pouty faces from these randoms that have nothing better to do on a Saturday night than get drunk (near) a group of exhausted volleyball girls just so they feel cool. And, you guessed it, every five minutes I have to look up from my novel to give another high five. So if I don't give you a high five next time I see you, please dont take it personally, I've simply used up my quota for the next two lifetimes. (by the way this sucks cuz who doesn't dig a high five?)

When I finally get to sleep at around 3 am and most of the rowdy losers have calmed the fuck down or passed out, I am rudely awakened by a cow bell. Yes, a cow bell. In my ear. Get me the fuck out of this country. It seems that the fans have gotten a second wind now that we're back in (our home town) and they start high-fiving everything with a hand. I asked the girl next to me how to say "shut your face" in their language but then lost my nerve to actually use it. At 5 am back in my own place I am so tired and grumpy, I had no idea the situation was so bad over here.

Other than that everything is great! You heading back to Canada after you're done or what? Til next time, take care over there,

(girls name)

So there you have it folks. sometimes our job is sweet. sometimes there are hidden perks, sometimes there's hidden... anti perks. I'm not trying to sway anyone from playing pro or whatever, just thought u might want some insight. being a girl playing in Europe. Peace from the Middle East.

Oh how the years fly by

I'd like to speak for a bit if I may about the girl I met in Iran.

I was there with the junior national team back in like 2003, which seems crazy to me but that was like 8 years ago now. wow. old. but our short interaction stuck with me.

Basically we were there two weeks for the world junior championship (I'm assuming were allowed to host since it was one of the few tournaments the USA didn't qualify for), and a week after we were eliminated because we couldn't get flights out of the country. Needless to say we got bored and got into trouble with the local quasi-authorities involving Mark Dodds getting tapped head to toe, us busting a bed, and our translator getting thrown against a wall by security. but thats another story for another time.

Anyways, like I said our interactions were short, we met in the hotel lobby where there was a coffee and cake lounge which most of us went to everyday cuz there was honestly nothing else to do, we were locked in our hotel for a week. I'm guessing this girl and her friend saw us play on tv and figured we had to be staying at our hotel since it was apparently the nicest in town. so I believe what happened is I was walking through the lobby and this girl must have seen that I was plastered in CANADA gear and figured we should talk, so she and her friend asked me if I went to college in Canada, and I said ya, and asked if I wanted to have coffee, and although I was carrying a busy schedule of watching the bbc news broadcast 20 times a day, I obliged them and joined them in the lobby.

Basically then asked me what school was like in Canada, and if I could help then make Canadian contacts so hopefully they could go to school abroad. So I helped them as much as I could. Basically we exchanged emails (I think), I showed them some websites that might have more information and what not.

so we spoke about this stuff for about 15 mins, and then there was an odd pause in our dialog where in 5 seconds of silence I felt the mood change. One of the girls looked away from me, took a long drag from the cigarette she had just lit and said, you know Canadian boys are so different from Iranian boys, and it was at that moment that I realized why these two girls had stopped me and what they really wanted to talk about. Not so much that they wanted to get married and get the eff outta dodge (well maybe they did I dunno), but it turns out they just wanted to gossip with a North American about the differences between our two cultures.

At this point our conversations got real, and we both learned a lot. Lots of eye openers that actually make you pause, sit back and open your eyes wider and say, whow really? I won't get into the differences between the two places that we discussed; its hard to describe to a westerner without sounding like a dick or just outrageous, but it was nice to share an experience on the other side of the world where you realize, all us folks here on earth for all the differences we think we might have, are all pretty much the same. we worry about pretty much the same things, hope the same things for ourselves and our families... and think about boys... or girls.

Like I said we were stuck there for an extra week or so, so the girl had a chance to come back to visit. If I remember correctly she had someone call up to my room to let me know, her and her mother had come for a visit. now this is where I feel like a poor human being and it moves me now and then when I think about it. I don't know if I got nervous cuz her mother was there, or if I felt weird cuz I had a girlfriend at the time, or if I had a meeting, or I was just being arrogant and couldn't be bothered to go downstairs to meet this girl and her mother, but I ended up missing them, but they were kind enough to leave me a gift. Apparently her father silk screened company logos onto shirts and hats so she had brought me a shirt and hat with whatever logo her father had just printed, I believe it was something "like" an american company so she must have assumed it suited to give to me.

Anyways I missed them. Two kind Iranians had brought me gifts and I couldn't get there in time to say thank you. I guess this is on my mind more recently because well, I'm in the middle east. I've been in the UAE for about a month and now I'm in Saudi Arabia. If you haven't turned on the tube in a while then let me tell you, the middle east is blowing up with revolutions like they're giving out free hummus. and just yesterday, Iran started their peoples uprising. The issue is, as new countries start protesting, the more violent these militaries seem to be acting, and I worry about her and the other people I met.

I wish I could send her an email of support. The only ironically positive thing I can think of is, political unrest is nothing new to the middle east, so I hope my old friends know how to stay safe. Anyways, I gotta go play some volleyball.

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Dubai is pronounced, Dubai.

Before I start writing, I'd like to point out how the Fantasies Album by Metric is currently the soundtrack to my life.

Now seems like as good a time as ever to write a blog.

So I'm currently in the city of Al Ain in the UAE. I've been here a week today. Its going pretty swell. can't really complain about nothing.

Oh I told yall about my place right. Lack of tv and internet? ya that kinda sucked. I've since moved in with my coach Rusto. He's from Slovakia. He's been around the block as a player and a coach so he knows the drill; the challenges, ups and downs of getting to a new place disoriented and without a helping hand. Not to take anything away from the club at all, they've been cool, I just mean on a personal level. (side bar, my coach is solid, we live together and chum around, yet he still requires me to call him coach, obviously during working hours, but ALSO at home. haha, I giggle to myself a bit about that. I don't mind, he's a good guy and a straight shooter.)

so my first day I slept till 1 then bummed around the surrounding blocks of my place, and read all my books. I was told that I'd be picked up to go to the club to take care of administrative stuff. This didn't quite happen, what did happen is a man would show up at my door ever 5 hours to tell me he'd be back later to take me to the club. kind of weird sitting at home waiting when you've just got off a 15 hours flight. aaaanyways, the next day I went to the gym to sign stuff or whatever and I was taken by the driver into the weight room where a few players and the coach were working out. I said hi, they were all polite, then I was taken to the doctor to continue the procedures they needed me to complete. What I didn't know is when I left the weight room, my coach asked the two players, "hey guys who was that?" The Algerian fellow playing on the team gave the coach a puzzled look and said "coach that is your new player, the Canadian..."

I need to break for a moment here to point out that I actually just saw my first camel. It was in the back of a truck on the high way. Moving on.

I can only assume at that point my coach did a cartoony double take at the door like “wha wha whaaat?”

Anyways, we met soon after. The club hadn’t informed him of my arrival, or apparently who I was or what I might look like. So that was something. Long story short, the coach and I decided it made more sense to just stay at his place for the duration of my stay in the country. He’s got a big place with tv and internet and rooms and working showers n stuff all set up already anyways, and to be honest its nice for both of us to have a little company.

By the by, when Changing after a shower in your team room in an Arab country, make sure not to expose your… inner most personal regions. Especially when some of your arab teamates are catching up on their worship that they missed during practice. As it turns out, its extremely offensive. I’m lucky enough to be playing with cool enough dudes to have one mention this to me after my 4^th or 5^th infraction away from the team room. And really its just common sense, would you want a dudes rig wafting around while you pray at the supper table? Know what I have some friends who just shouldn’t answer that. Forget I even asked… At any rate, the next time the team was together I apologized just in case I offended anyone and everyone got a kick out of it, so, as they say in places where people struggle to pronounce all their words, isalgud bra.

In closing, when I left Canada it was -22ish’C, here its an average 29’C. just food for thought, whatever that is. Aaand I just saw the highest building in the world. So that happened.

p.s.

to answer homeboys question, I'm playing for the Al Ain Sport and Cultural club. and yes this summer the canadian team will have a shot at qualifying for the world league in 2012. here's hoping. ya and basically I left Turkey because I was warn out and completely unmotivated and bad, at life. so I figured it was time to make a change. and change is scary, but pretty much always good. if you want a more in depth explanation, fire me an email or give me a call. PEACE

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