Weekend in the Lou

It likes to be called "The Lou"

My daughter’s volleyball team is a lot like my golf game. Mostly frustration with intermittent flashes of brilliance. Just enough to keep you coming back. This past weekend took us to the Nike Mid-East Qualifier in St. Louis, an enormous tournament drawing teams from multiple states in the region.

St. Louis is often called the Gateway City. It should be called the Gateway Drug City. It is by far the dankest city I have visited. It started with our arrival at the Crowne Plaza Airport sometime after 11:00pm on Thursday night. A man stood near the ashtray at the entry toking on a fatty. I sat in the idling car while my wife checked in. Even with the windows up, when she returned, I was craving Hostess cakes and had potted up The Dead's American Beauty on Spotify.

After our late arrival, we were due at the Dome at America's Center at 7:00am. Again, this is the erstwhile home of the erstwhile St. Louis Rams, and as I will mention every single time, site of the inaugural Big XII championship football game. Roll left. James Brown. Derrick Lewis. Priest Holmes. John Mackovic might just be the answer. Huge upset. Cry me a river, Corn.

We were situated in the seemingly endless convention center. While my wife parked the car, I made sure our daughter got inside before securing admission. The process was quick and painless, and I walked away the proud owner of two Nike logoed wristbands and ninety dollars lighter in the wallet. This represented two three-day passes, so not terrible. There was no VIP lounge, so Titan is still winning there. Still, Phil Knight did alright. The facility was adequately branded and the pop-up store was getting $60 per for hoodies. While the logos were silk-screened, the swooshes were stitched, so there's quality involved.

     

Just spend it

The Day One initial match continued in the spirit of Oklahoma City insofar as the girls didn't play well and lost a winnable game. They followed that up by dropping an even more winnable match. This one was especially tough as we took the first set then crumbled after building a solid lead in the second. Same song, new verse in the tiebreaker.

The rage this past weekend was the pursuit of clothespins. These have been around for some time but seem to have really taken off in recent weeks. Players take old fashioned clothes pins, print inspirational slogans on them and secretly attach them to other players, coaches, fans, referees--anyone. so sought after were these appurtenances that kids had messages on their phones reading "Pin Me," and held them up as they walked the perimeter of the courts. It's odd that clothespins are so coveted by a generation that doesn't know the first thing about doing laundry.

Listening to Jenny Lewis and trying to realign my chakras after a frustrating 0-2 start

The girls salvaged the day with a convincing victory in the third match. Still, downtrodden was the consensus when we returned to the hotel. Speaking of the hotel, in the light of day, it resembles the Pacific Princess from The Love Boat. Unlike the Pacific Princess, the lobby bar wasn't open at two in the afternoon.  Though I could've used a beer, we repaired to our top floor room for naps prior to the evening's team dinner. Come on Crowne Plaza, your Yelp! rating is hemorrhaging.  And don't get me started on the escape room that was the parking lot.

I was concerned I was getting ill. I'd been cold and achy all morning, two major tells for me. After my nap, I wasn't much better, but commitments are commitments. We met at the Foundry, which a food hall a few blocks from SLU--Go Billikens! For my friends in Tulsa, this is like the Mother Road Marketplace--except instead of being pillared by an Enterprise Car Rental, the Foundry is buttressed by an Alamo Drafthouse.

A Hawaiian poke bowl was a welcome respite from the fried with fries road diet. A DJ–typically not my favorite form of musical entertainment did a terrific "Riders on the Storm/Rapture" mashup. The girls seemed to have a good time Still, my mood remained awful for the remainder of the day. At least my pedometer was pleased with me.

Back at the Crowne Plaza, my wife went downstairs to Lobby Cacophony to visit with other parents. I stayed in the room with my daughter and watched something on Lifetime Movie Network. It was about some sort of Esalen Institute for married couples having problems. The guy in charge was creepy. Everyone was creepy. I fell asleep.

Day two put us in the afternoon wave. The good news is we got to sleep in. The bad news is we'd be downtown after dark. First things first, however. I had meant to wake up early and go to the nearest Walmart to restock on Diet Pepsi. I didn't and we decided to leave for the venue early, grab lunch and soda on the way. I misread the the map and the wild goose chase was on. Eventually we found the store. It was nearby, but in the opposite direction. This location featured Angel Reese cereal.  Loud packaging but the corn puffs clank off the rim of the bowl.  

Given the potential late exit time, we splurged for garage parking two blocks from the arena. Upon arrival, we learned our court was running about ninety minutes behind schedule, promising to make a late night even later. I staked out a table and set up shop with my laptop and music. Our court assignment for Saturday put us in the far back corner. It was nice and roomy, but our proximity to a concession stand made it look like our match was being held in a shopping mall near the food court.

Volleyball, Orange Julius, upper level

After another how did that happen loss to kick off the evening, I was thrust into my annual soul-searching funk. Was this the right choice? Why does this team seem to be regressing? Why do these things never live up to my quixotic expectations?

Volleyball is deceptively expensive. The equipment isn't much--good shoes and a pair of kneepads. However, that's where it ends. Club tuition. Travel. Small group lessons. Volleyball is one of those see-how-much-money-we've-got sports. Except with us it's a see-how-much-money-we-had sports. I was wondering aloud how much more I was willing to invest.  Don't @ me, Max Fischer.  

Then came the winning streak. A stark peripeteia was about the last thing I expected at that point, but that's what unfolded.  A two-nil sweep earned us a cross-over match for the nightcap. Initially, it didn't look favorable. A team from Grand Prairie, Texas was the epitome of an off the bus team. They were big. They had swagger. Their fans were rowdy. I predicted a bloodbath.

I was correct. Our girls beat them up one side and down the other. Neither set was close, and we caravanned back to Bridgeton the owners of a modest two match winning streak. Our walk to the parking garage was incident free--aside from the customary contact high. The Lou does a good job with its lighting downtown. The areas we traversed were brightly illuminated, at least giving the impression of a modicum of safety

For dinner, we ordered a pizza from a place the girls had spotted earlier in the day called Imo's. We got it back to our room and made quick work of it. Imo's is legit. The evening nightcap came in the form of Guy Fieri on the Food Network giving himself a hernia trying to come across as cool.

After springing forward, the first match Sunday was 11am. Sundays are a bit of a conundrum with travel tournaments. Naturally, we want the girls to play well, but with six hours on the road waiting at the end of the matches, we wouldn't mind getting on the road as early as possible. The schedule was straightforward. We would play until we lost--up to three matches.

In a bit of unwelcome irony, my wife mentioned that by the third day she barely needed the GPS to get downtown. Ten minutes and a miscommunication between my daughter and her later, we found ourselves in charming hamlet of East St. Louis, Illinois.

Rib tips?

Fortunately, we were back on the correct track before anyone had the chance to spray paint Honky Lips on the car.

Commiserate with our earlier performance, our final date court assignment was again in a far corner. This one was so desolate, the building's complimentary Wi-Fi signal didn't reach. Even the pin chasers didn't bother in our area. However, the volleyball was quite good. Sunday, March 9 witnessed perhaps the best three consecutive matches our team has played this season. Despite being matches seven, eight, and nine in three days, the energy and intensity were on point. Mistakes were made but seldom snowballed. The end result--3-0, all sweeps and winners of the Diamond Bracket. Or as my daughter put it, the Tin Cup Division champions.

Yes, we were late leaving town and were worn out, but winning has a way of making everything just a little better. And while the in and out didn't add up to a great number, the three pars and two birdies to end the round left me eager to see what the remainder of the season holds.