Sidelines
REAL beach volleyballers are red. Not tan, red. They've passed that point of no return. Their bodies are used to the sun, sure, but then they go and push it another step further -- into a perpetual rosy glow. Can the game on the beach
earn broader reach?Beach volleyball is a sickness. They're always at it. You can't give it up. It's like the mafia. Just when you think you're out, they keep pulling you back in. One player remarked yesterday, "Wasn't this what I was doing five years ago? It's like a bad dream!"
But he said it with a smile. And they continue to play, and play, and play. It's not a sport. It's an addiction.
Like bowling.
Or golf.
What's golf other than just another weekend recreational activity undertaken by people around the world? But somewhere along the line Ben Hogan and a bunch of newspaper guys decided to convince us that golf is more than just an excuse to get out of the house and drink beer. No, golf is a major sport. Golf is magical and mystical, and most of all, classy. And so Tiger Woods and his buddies are kings.
Quick! Who is the top bowler in the world?
Beach volleyball and bowling are trying, but they're still on the fringe. They've each found their niche. Both have limited but fervent followings, with dreams of greater mass appeal. Both are on TV, but neither has a good time slot. Though if those bowlers would just compete in bikinis, you never know. You've got to give it all for your sport. Show some skin! Like beach volleyball players!
Golf has the world's biggest propaganda machines working for it. Beach volleyball has some of the worst movies ever made. (Bowling has "Kingpin" -- which is a great movie -- but that's probably not what the tour directors had in mind.)
YOU COULD SEE IT yesterday, in the preliminary rounds of the 13th Riggers Beach Volleyball Championships at Queens Beach.
The action was furious, if not fast. A few players had been on a pro tour. A couple were on their way. There were some very, very good players. Some heroic saves and hustling dives, some thunderous blocks, some sly cuts and heart-stopping rallies. And some fiery emotion. PG-rated, of course.
But there were no crowds.
(Perhaps the worst part about trying to get people to watch beach volleyball is ... wouldn't you rather go to the beach?)
A few passers-by stopped to gawk. But most of the people watching were related to the players.
It was the old crowd, the same crowd, the familiar friendly faces and unchanging names. Everybody knew everybody. Every year, at every tournament, they were there.
It's a subculture.
Like a bowling league.
Maybe it'll be big someday. Maybe it will lose its weekend warrior stigma and enter the major sport stratosphere.
Maybe it won't. Maybe it will be bowling.
Doesn't matter. Either way, they'll still be there, sweating and diving in the sand. The same old addicts. Playing hard. Turning a warm shade of red.
Kalani Simpson's column runs Sundays, Tuesdays and Fridays.
He can be reached at ksimpson@starbulletin.com