Let’s face it. I do more stupid shit in one day than the Dalai Lama does in about three incarnations. Some days I take that as a point of pride. Some days I take that as a source of shame. Most days, it’s just an objective statement of fact.
So when I type the sentence: “Hey, I played in a dodgeball tournament on trampolines last week,” I really don’t suppose I’m surprising anyone at this point.
I think the more surprising sentence would be: “I didn’t get hurt at all while playing trampoline dodgeball last week.” (Which wouldn’t be totally accurate. I mean, I had a little tramp burn on my left knee. And my groin was sore as hell. But if you wanted to read about burning tramps and fiery groins, you’d probably be reading a whole different blog. So I’ll just let those slide.)
When we played it, trampoline dodgeball was sort of a combination of regular dodgeball and this. Our version was more bouncy and fall-downy than regular dodgeball, but less flippy and douchebaggy than that YouTube clip. Sort of a happy medium.
In the end, we played three matches. We beat the team we should have beat (Boulder Tap House – their dodgeball skills are better than their wait-staff skills…but not by much). And we lost to the two teams to whom we should have lost (Air-Maxx’s staff team and one of their regular league teams).
And I’m okay with that. At this point in my life, I really don’t want to feel like I have enough idle time to invest in the practice it would take to beat the in-house staff trampoline dodgeball team.