Peeves Last

I’m going to assume my objection to dead dogs blogging is self-explanatory. I mean, really. That may be the next to last thing the world needs, right behind Kelly Murphy committing to Stanford.

So I’ll move along to my last peeve (of the original list -- more are available for download at iPeeves). This one has been nipping at my ankles for several years now, raising welts you would not believe! How do you suppose I could convince a TV network that it would be worth their while to start using some sort of graphic during their telecasts which easily allows the viewer to know which rotation each team is in? It would be even better if they would start showing statistics for those rotations, but I’d settle for the graphic.

I’d also love to see something along those lines with GameTracker. Heck, I think it would be cool for a school to have it at the match itself for the fans to see.

Am I dreaming? I did suggest this to CSTV last year in regards to GameTracker, but I’m still waiting for a response. (I was not the one who suggested having the Hindenburg fly across our screens while we try to watch the stats change.) It is this volleyrube’s opinion that keeping track of the rotations is comparable to pitcher/batter matchups (and their graphics) in baseball -- and that it’s also something to which the majority of volleyball fans are completely Oblivious Newton John.

So if you’re reading out there, oh-powerful-networks, you could be the first network on the block to offer this feature. You could be the one we all call “cutting edge” and “volleyball savvy.” And you could owe it all to (R)uffda! Seriously. I could use the extra cash.

Peeves IV

You’ve probably seen this play a few times, too. Suzy Howitzer is set and smacks the ball off the back wall. She and her coaches immediately start begging for the micro-touch, imploring both refs and both line judges to make the call and award the Big How the kill. When no one volunteers to bail Suzy out, the indignation kicks in. How could anyone have missed this?!

My advice for the aggrieved is to focus their frustration and wrath where it belongs: on the player launching the scud in the first place. You want a touch call? Don’t hit a shot that’s twenty feet out. Break some fingers if you have to. Otherwise, shut up, please. If it wasn’t obvious enough for all four officials to see it, you don’t deserve the point anyhow.

(Of course, if it was obvious and they still don’t see it, feel free to knock the first referee off his stand. Hell, use one of the line judges to do it.)

Peeves III

I hesitated to continue with this exhibition of Peeves on Parade. Some grump, who shall remain nameless, let’s just call him/her ladeda, posted that dirt was more interesting than my blog. Dirt! I have to tell you I was offended at first, cut to the quick. Not only was my quick bleeding, my feelings were bruised, sulking and scared to go out of the house. Although I had promised myself that my blog would be an instrument for Good, I was sorely tempted to type ladeda a new one. Then I googled “dirt” and discovered just how fascinating soil can be. Judge for yourself, but I think ladeda has a valid point.

http://www.answers.com/topic/soil?cat=technology

So even if it is admittedly less exciting than dirt, we move along to my second pet peeve: backrow block and backrow attack calls. You know the play. Team A’s player passes or digs Team B’s wicked serve or blistering attack (or feeble free ball, for that matter), and the ball ends up somewhere near or in the space over the net. Team A’s setter valiantly attempts to set the ball and it is simultaneously or subsequently touched by one or more of Team B’s blockers. A sharp whistle pierces the air. All eyes turn to the first referee, who is still flush from tooting the play dead.

The thing is, the first referee, if the ball was completely above the height of the net, has to make a call. There is no gray area, as there is for most other calls. There was a fault, the only question is: whose fault was it?

The 2007 NCAA Women’s Volleyball Rules and Interpretations* -- a spellbinding tome if ever there was one -- is the mother of my peeve. I’ll let it speak for itself.

14.5 Attack-Hit

14.5.1 Definition

An attack-hit is an action, other than a block or a serve, that directs the ball toward an opponent. An attack hit is completed the instant the ball completely crosses the vertical plane of the net or is touched by an opponent.

Furthermore,

14.5.4 Back-Row Attacker

14.5.4.1 A back-row player who is in the front zone may not complete an attack-hit if, at contact, the ball is entirely above the top of the net. The contact does not become illegal until the attack-hit is complete. (See Rule 14.5.1.)

So here’s the deal. The first referee, who is above the height of the net (unless he or she is of Pygmy descent) and possibly, but not necessarily, perched at the center of one end of the net, must, in the instant the ball is contacted, be able to discern

+ whether or not the ball is completely above the horizontal plane of the net

+ whether or not the blocker has touched the ball after some part of it has entered the vertical plane of the net

+ for which team (R)uffda! is rooting (so he or she can make the call in the other team’s favor)

And, again, the call must be made if the ball is completely above the horizontal plane of the net. Also, I feel compelled to remind you, even though I feel pretty stupid doing so, the object in question is round, being a ball and all. This is not a volleybox, or any other volleyobject with straight edges, entering or not entering these imaginary planes; it’s a volleysphere. But there is our first referee, confidently indicating that Team A’s setter or Team B’s blocker has committed a fault.

It is my contention that these first referees, in 90% or more of these plays, do not have a clue as to where the ball was in relation to these vertical and horizontal planes and therefore has no business making a call which will cause poor (R)uffda! such grief. My motto is: If you don’t know, let ‘em play. (Well, that and “Don’t Tread on (R)uffda!”) So, why oh why do the rules force these poor first referees to pretend they know what happened and blow their whistles? Why can’t they be given the out of Man, that was close, I better just let it go? Why do they treat a complex play like this as if it were as simple as a linejudge guessing whether a ball was in or out?

It’s a pet peeve of mine, it is.



* The 2007 NCAA Women’s Volleyball Rules and Interpretations is published by The National Collegiate Athletic Association, with the manuscript prepared by the distinguished Marcia Alterman.

http://www.ncaa.org/library/rules/2007/2007_w_volleyball_rules.pdf

Peeves II

The players who continued to hang out at the local saloon discussed all of this, and maroon and gold was seriously considered. Nevertheless, two of Professor Hoopy’s sons -- Harold and Henry -- vehemently argued in favor of ecru and chartreuse. Using the skills their father had taught them, and the influence of vast amounts of alcohol on the rest of the team, they convinced the others that maroon and gold were much too common, and that the team deserved truly distinctive colors. When the “meeting” finally adjourned, Henry Hoopy quickly ordered the uniforms. For close to 50 years, the Ecru and Chartreuse, as the squad came to be called, wore the Hoopy colors more or less proudly, in spite of the ridicule heaped upon them by opposition players and fans alike.

In the meantime, the school adopted the gopher as its official mascot. This was not surprising; Minnesota had been known as the “Gopher State” since the late 1850s following two signature events. The first was a cartoon in a local paper which showed nine gophers, each with the head of a local politician, pulling a locomotive -- something to do with the expansion of a railroad through Western Minnesota. The second was what came to be known as the “Revenge of the Gopher Nine” when these same politicians, wearing home-made gopher suits, stormed the newspaper and seized the cartoonist. One witness later described the assailants as “horrifying, like large, ugly squirrels,” and also claimed the cartoonist was dragged out “screaming like my 2-year-old niece.” The story, understandably, made headlines throughout the country and the Gopher State soon entered the nation’s vernacular, synonymous with Minnesota. The cartoonist was never found.

In 1931, the Gopher football team failed to cross midfield for the entire season. The time had come, the players decided, for a change -- and they would start with the color of the uniforms. The maroon and gold school colors were the obvious choice, and to make the ensemble even more original, they decided on gold jerseys and pants, with only the players’ numbers in maroon. The sporting goods representative gave them three swatches of maroon fabric and five of gold from which to choose. After six hours of intense deliberation, they picked the Steamed Beets Maroon, but were still torn between Honey Bee Gold and Frisky Golden Spaniel. It was starting tackle Leroy “Cleatface” O’Reilly who lamented that it was too bad there wasn’t a "Frisky Golden Gopher", setting in motion events which would change the course of Minnesota athletic apparel history. The rep, who had had long since lost patience with the whole process -- and was having a very bad week, according to his journal -- responded that they could call it “Frisky Golden Wombat” for all he cared, it was just a “goddamned shade of yellow for cripesakes!” The team decided, as long as they had carte blanche, to drop the “Frisky” while they were at it.

From 1932 through 1941, Minnesota won seven Big Ten titles and five National Championships, only losing twelve games in the process. The “Golden Gopher”, as the team was now called, was the pride of the state. In 1943, Crayola introduced “Golden Gopher” as a standard color in their 48-pack of crayons. In 1944, the University of Minnesota sued Crayola for $3.6 million dollars, claiming use of the color was “not fair.” The case is still pending.

So, to summarize: It’s a color, dammit!

Pet Peeves

Pet peeves is an interesting topic, as blog topics go. Unless, of course, you were an undomesticated young peeve running wild on the prairie with your sibling peeves and were snatched up by some heartless peeve-poacher and sold to PestMart. Then it’s more of a horrific topic. But I’m going to assume none of my readers are feral peeves, or peeves of any variety, for that matter. I’m also going to assume I have readers.

The upshot is that I have a few of these peeves and I’d like to list them here. I promise they are all volleyball-related. Any resemblance to the list previously posted by the so-called “Luke” is purely coincidental. Since he has not followed up on his parcel of peeves, as he said he would, it’s Tough Alpo for Luke, regardless. Anyhow, here’s my list. I’m going to use bullets, by the way. Something a dog would never think to do.

* People (which by definition includes Wolfgang) who still think “Golden Gopher” is an animal, rather than a color

* The backrow block/backrow attack calls

* Complaints about missed touch calls

* Dead dogs blogging on my blog

* The lack of helpful graphics during TV coverage of the sport

I have more. But this is probably more than enough for a blog. So, without further ado...


Golden Gopher

The very first football game for the University of Minnesota was September 29, 1882. This was originally to have been a “Field Day” with Carleton and Hamline joining the Minnesota students, but Carleton apparently got the date wrong and showed up September 29, 1282, after spending hundreds of dollars on constructing a time machine and endless hours working out the logistics, such as what snacks to bring along and what to wear. The Hamline kids, who weren’t really in to “Field Days” in the first place, wanted to book, but Minnesota’s captain, one A.J. “Baldy” Baldwin, persuaded the Pipers to stick around for a game of football. Although Baldwin scored the first points in the 4-0 Minnesota victory and performed the first end zone celebration in football history, he unfortunately pulled his groin in the process. He subsequently suffered severe frostbite from his imprudent and, according to his doctors, excessive application of an ice pack.

Later that day, as the players sat around drinking beer and sharing a laugh regarding Baldy’s misfortune, the conversation turned to the afternoon’s game and what was next. A top priority for the players, just below convincing young women to stand on the sidelines with pom-poms cheering for them, was the acquisition of snazzy uniforms for any future contests. This, in turn, brought them around to a discussion about the design of the jerseys, which, in still another turn, transported them to a touchy subject at the university: the school colors.

For 29 years, the university’s teachers had chosen different colors for each graduation ceremony. In 1879, Professor Maxwell Hoopy of the Philosophy Department had been granted this honor and had picked an ecru and chartreuse scheme which pleased no one and sickened hundreds. The following year, the privilege was passed to an English instructor, a Mrs. Augustus Smith, and she chose maroon and gold. The same colors were used in 1881, perhaps due to their popularity or perhaps just to avoid the Hoopy Fiasco of 1879. There was talk of declaring maroon and gold not just the permanent colors of the graduation ceremony, but also the official colors of the school itself.

[I had no idea this was going to be so long-winded. To be continued!]