La vie en rose

I was chatting last night with a dear buddy of mine I haven’t seen in 15 years. Not chatting-chatting… just Facebook PMs. Let me tell you something about this guy. He was, years back, la crème de la crème in volleyball, the best player Europe has ever had and probably the top libero in the whole world. I’ve seen him playing hundreds of times. Always the best.  And I know what volleyball is about. I haven’t missed a game when I was younger. Anyway, back to the guy. What he had and others didn’t was that this guy was smart, his game was cleaver and tricky. You know how tall volleyball players are. He was a head shorter and he knew that he has to transform this handicap into a quality. So, I was chatting with him last night and what do volleyball fans chat about? You guessed: volleyball. I was absolutely sure that he coaches somewhere in Europe. He deserves that. But no. Others do…others who have degrees in God knows what, no experience and definitely no feel for the court. Anytime he was closer to get a coaching job, a novice just appeared from nowhere and grabbed it. Of course the novice was a friend of a friend of a high rated nobody. Nepotism is everywhere unfortunately. So, this buddy of mine got a job in something he is not passionate about, hoping that one day somebody remembers about him and his smart game. A shame really. I would make a volleyball team, I would fly him, his wife and son over and I would put him in charge if I could…but I don’t know too many tall guys. I mean I know some, but not so well and the ones I know may not want to know me. 

The story about my buddy made me think about how unfair life is for some people. Some may have multiple chances to get what they want, others none, Destiny? I don’t know and I am sure you don’t either. How many of you know what an athlete goes through? Probably many. I want to believe that many of you, guys, are in the position I was years back or my buddy was as well. My volleyball buddy could tell you a lot about what training as an athlete means. Eight hours a day, every day, since 5 or if you were lucky 6 years old. Every day, no weekends, no holidays. Then tournaments, one after another. Different cities, where all you remember are the train stations or airports. And after so many years of absolute torture, no job available in your sports? Pathetic really. 

Life is not fair and in most cases the one you take a bullet for is pulling the trigger. You know the feeling…But fair or not, life is more interesting when you are strange…or weird.  Now, I know the feeling cause I may be one of those. I wouldn’t fit in any standards and definitely I couldn’t be boxed and labeled. Just because all I care in this life of mine is mon couer qui bat! :)