The dodgeball league
This sort of thing. Perhaps with a dramatic flame motif.
I thought it was the stuff of movies, but no. Dodgeball is real and it actually happens in London. There is a thriving dodgeball league hidden away in the city’s industrial looking under parts, swarming with hot Antipodean types.
A friend and I joined a team mid-season because they were in need of girls – each team must have at least two females on the court.
In short, this is probably about as much fun as I’ve ever had in over a year of Ditch The Treadmill adventures.
Lob balls at the other team. Hit them and they’re out. Get hit and you’re out. If they catch a ball you’ve thrown at them, you’re out (and they can get one of their team mates back on). Easy.
The dodgeball lore is this: drink beer throughout; only weirdoes train; don’t take it too seriously.
I am pretty effective at the dodging, less so at the throwing. That’s partly because there are special lighter balls that only the girls are allowed to use and they’re basically just small spheres of sponge. It’s like trying to throw bubbles. Or meringues. Also, I can’t catch. Oh well.
We shall be gathering a team and joining next year’s league. There may well be costumes. Unitards perhaps. Yes.
