What the @#!&* is Whirlyball?

If you drive around the side streets of Dallas, you will see the occasional advertisement that reads, "WHAT THE @#!&* IS WHIRLYBALL." Well, I found out last night.

Melissa's college friend and her husband, Terry, stayed with us last night. Sybil is the social butterfly of the group. I twinge when I think about her Contact List in her cell phone. Must read like phone book.

Sybil and Terry live in College Station and were visiting Dallas for business/fun. From seemingly nowhere, Sybil got the idea to play this little heard of game. Nobody felt the love so we made plans to do something else. Well, Brooke (my wife's real sister, previously referred to) and her friend (who later turned out to be my nemesis) went with us, as well. Brooke's friend got really excited about Whirlyball and those plans were suddenly back on the table.

So, at 9:30 last night, I found myself in an un-air conditioned gymnasium sitting in a bumper car with a lacrosse stick in hand. The game is a mixture of lacrosse, jai alai, and basketball, played sitting in your own bumper car. The object of the game is to pass a whiffle ball around and score by projecting the ball onto a target on the raised backboard. Since only one person has the ball, everybody else just drives around the gym avoiding each other and the walls, usually not successfully. The bumper car is maneuvered by one gear shift that works opposite of what you would think. To move forward, you pull back. To go in reverse, you pull the lever forward. To move left, pull it to the right; to move right, pull it to the left. Gotta think backwards.

After we divided into teams, we played for one hour. After thirty minutes, everybody was physically spent. The lack of air conditioning made everybody uncomfortable. Most everybody had bruises from hitting bumper cars into each other or the wall. And a whirlyball injury loomed ahead.

It was all fun and games until my wife was rammed by one of her own team members. The gear shift spun around and took the top layer of skin from her knee. I was about thirty feet away and saw the whole thing in slow motion. When my wife is upset, just stay out of her way. She slammed down her lacrosse stick and limped out of the gym. I pulled myself out of the last minute of the fifth game and overtime to make sure she was alright, which she was. Now, if she makes fun of me for sustaining a ping pong injury, I now have whirlyball to hang over her head.

About my nemesis. As background, I am a very competitive person. I don't like to lose and can't let go if I do. I get very intense and expect everybody else around me to play error-less. As such, I don't play competitive sports anymore. I stopped playing basketball because most games ended with physical altercations. I don't play for fun, I play to win.

Well, my nemesis kept egging me on about how superior her team was and how I should prepare to lose. Well, out of the five games we played, our team won one, lost one, and tied three - but won in overtime. I'm a more gracious winner than loser.

I was able to sleep a champion's sleep, my nemesis left walking the floors wondering why the Whirlyball gods didn't smile upon her last night.