My younger son decided this fall to follow in his brother’s footsteps and go out for Middle School Volleyball. And much like his brother and many other players at that age, he has trouble getting enough “oomphff” on the ball to consistently serve it over the net.
Now with my older son, I set him up in the driveway with a smaller, lighter ball and had him serve it at the garage door for an hour or so while coaching him on his form. This got his toss, rhythm, and body motion working to his advantage and really seemed to improve his serve. So I opted to try the same thing with his younger brother.
All seemed to be going well. He was getting his whole body into the serve and beginning to get some power into the ball. His control was a bit off, but I assured him we’d work on that later, after he was consistently getting the hang of hitting it hard. I left him for a moment to attend to something in the house while he continued the drill in the driveway. And a few minutes later, was surprised when he came to the door and said he had broken the vent on the house. I wasn’t too sure what he meant, but when outside to see.
It turns out he had smashed a ball sized hole in the gable vent at the peak. When I asked where the ball was, he said, “Inside…” And sure enough, it was sitting in the attic space behind the former vent, being dutifully guarded by the bees still contemplating the intruder.
Now granted, the vent was old, and I determined it to be more brittle than I might have imagined it to be. However, this was a pretty light ball and the vent is a long way from where he was serving. Further, he had to hit it hard enough not to just break it, but to pass through it! So I guess the good news is that he was successful at getting power on the ball. Maybe I should feel good about that. But it’s hard to be truly thrilled now that I have a sizable hole in the front of my house in need of repair.