Boot Camp 🏐 + Sports Reads 📖

I embark on an athletic adventure. Plus, sports fiction book recs.

Tale 🏝️

The Beginning 🌥️

At the beginning of summer, my reading list randomly included several sports fiction books. When I was done reading these books, I was overcome by a longing for sporting glory. I was under no illusions that, in my late 20s, I would be going pro. However, I figured I could join (and dazzle) a recreational sports league.

When a friend mentioned he was signing up for a volleyball league starting in the fall, I readily agreed to join his team. But as summer neared an end, I was gripped by a sudden panic. I had neglected to mention an important detail to my friend: I didn’t know how to play volleyball.

After a hurried YouTube watching spree, I realized the game was more complicated than I had bargained for. My daydreams of sporting glory were abruptly replaced with nightmarish visions of me flubbing passes, serving straight into the net, and generally being a leaden weight dragging my team to the bottom of the league.

Fortunately, my summer reading had prepared me for this eventuality too. I knew what I needed to do: I had to sign up for a volleyball boot camp. I was traveling to the West Coast in August, and I added a stop in San Diego, where I enrolled in private lessons in beach volleyball.

The Middle ☀️

As I trudged towards the volleyball court, I surveyed the surroundings. Palm trees dotted the landscape. There were a few grassy patches where people were picnicking. And then there was the marina, with gently lapping waves and a cluster of moored boats.

I neared the volleyball court. The court was located in the sandy part of the park. The gray sand had a rough texture and was littered with seashell shards that prickled underfoot. I was trying to dislodge a seashell fragment from my sandals, when I noticed a figure waving to me.

My summer reading had left me with a clear picture of sports coaches. I was expecting a stern, taciturn, and grizzled coach who was too advanced in years to play the game himself, but who would re-live moments of athletic triumph vicariously through me.

When I saw Coach James, I tried my best to hide my disappointment. He was in his early 20s, with sandy hair, a deep tan, and chiseled features. He wore black shorts and a bright yellow T-shirt, a memento from a recent volleyball tournament in Mexico.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself and your goals,” he said, in a distinctive Australian accent, as we shook hands.

I filled him on my predicament: My complete lack of volleyball skills and the upcoming rec league.

“Wait, you signed up for 8 hours of volleyball lessons just to play in a casual league?” he said.

I nodded in the affirmative.

“Dude, no way,” he said. “What’s really going on? Is there someone you’re trying to impress?”

Of course, I had no ulterior motive other than to avoid mortal embarrassment, but I didn’t feel like admitting this. So instead I mumbled something about wanting to learn the fundamentals well.

Coach James clearly didn’t buy it, but he started me off with some warm-up drills. Then he taught me the basics of passing. Once I had learned how to form a platform, he started lobbing balls from across the net, while I scrambled all over the court, trying to pass them back.

At the end of the two hour lesson, I collapsed in the sand in a wheezing heap. My Apple Watch beeped excitedly with notifications about new accomplishments. I ignored them all. My forearms were sore, my back hurt, and I felt light headed.

“Great session,” Coach James said, looming over me. “We’ll pick up the pace a bit tomorrow though. Got to get you game ready.”

Outwardly, I gave him a thumbs up sign. Inwardly, I cursed the entire sports fiction genre.

The End 🌅

“Go, go, go,” Coach James shouted.

I ran across the court while keeping my eyes fixed on the arcing ball. I arrived at the edge of the court and halted. I formed my platform and hit the ball upward…straight into my face.

Coach James winced. “Tough luck,” he said. “Let’s reset.”

I fixed my askew spectacles, and returned to the starting position. I managed to hit the next ball better, but it still went out of bounds. I returned the ball after that one. Then, the next and the next.

“Nice work!” Coach James said, coming over to give me a high five. “Let’s switch to practicing serves.”

He demonstrated the proper form for a powerful serve. He tossed the ball and hit it. There was a sonic boom, and the ball rocketed to the other side of the court, leaving an impact crater in the sand.

“Now your turn,” he said, tossing a new ball to me.

I hit the ball with a light thwack sound and it floated straight into the net.

“Let’s get some more reps in,” Coach James said.

By the end of the lesson, with several suggestions from Coach James, I was able to hit the ball over the net—most of the time. It was also my final lesson: My overall volleyball skills had progressed from atrocious to amateurish.

“You’ve gotten a lot better,” he said, as we shook hands. Then he leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper, “So, are you going to tell me who you’re trying to impress?”

Feeling magnanimous, I conceded that there might be some single women in the volleyball league.

“I knew it!” he said, pumping the air. “Dude, you’re going to crush it!”

As I left the park, with the waving figure of Coach James receding slowly, I felt like one of the boats leaving the marina, setting off on a perilous adventure.

To be continued…

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Tomes 📚

Carrie Soto is Back 🎾

This is my favorite sports novel. Carrie Soto is a tennis legend, who has been retired for 5 years. However, when a younger opponent ties her record of 20 Grand Slam singles titles, Carrie returns to defend her record and her claim to greatness. She recruits her father to be her coach and begins a punishing training regime. Along the way, Carrie picks up plenty of supporters and detractors. The novel unfolds over the course of the 4 Grand Slams—with globe hopping, flashbacks, interludes, and transcripts of sports shows—and its twists and turns kept me engrossed throughout. The novel is ultimately about more than just tennis: Its themes include identity loss & expansion, playing for the love of the game vs. playing for accolades, and the uniquely rewarding relationship between a coach and a student.

Playing for Pizza 🏈

This is a feel-good sports novel with a simple but satisfying redemption arc. Rick Dockery, a disgraced NFL player, finds himself exiled in Italy, playing for the Parma Panthers. While he’s initially embarrassed by this demotion, he bumbles his way into a charmed (and rather hedonistic) life in the small Italian town. Unfortunately for Rick, his biggest hater—the sports journalist Charley Cray—follows him to Italy. Despite this unwelcome scrutiny, Rick plays some of the best football of his career. The only question that remains is whether he will help the Panthers clinch the championship or will he crumble under pressure again?

The Final Four 🏀

This is a short and fast paced sports novel that chronicles a semi-final game in a March Madness season. The novel incorporates flashbacks, quotes, sports commentary, and press clippings. There are four main characters, who are all players on the two teams in the semi-final. As the novel progresses, you learn more about their backstories and motivations. It’s a riveting and realistic read; an easy recommendation if you’re a basketball fan.