We maybe take “rain or shine” a bit too seriously

“You should really text Neal to see if you are still playing.”

Mikaela’s right, of course. She tends to be on such things. “Yeah, I guess so.” I send Neal a text seeing if the volleyball game is still on for the evening. His response does not take long.

“Yessir! They generally won’t cancel unless it’s severe weather.” I glance outside our living room window at the ongoing monsoon outside. Uh huh.

Severe weather? I suppose that’s subjective, I think to myself. What is one person’s “severe” could be considered another’s “light shower” perhaps. Though, at what point does the weather go from being “okay enough to play sand volleyball in” to “severe?” Lightning? Tornadoes? Volcanic eruptions? Tsunami? Armageddon?

Whatever line it was, apparently “torrential downpour” did not cross it. I eye the storm outside dubiously before giving Neal a digital thumbs up in response.

“We’re still on.” “Seriously?” “Yep. Neal says that they don’t cancel unless it’s severe weather.”

Mikaela gives me a look expressing a similar skepticism to the one I held. I just shrug. Duty calls.

A few minutes later, I’m driving south on Highway 13. My windshield wipers swipe furiously back and forth in a constant clash with the pummeling forces from above. The road in front of me, barely visible through the heavy splattering of rain on my windshield, is drowning. A not insignificant layer of water sits over top of it, unable to shed into the surrounding ditches quickly enough.

For now, glass and metal shelter me from the onslaught. There would be no such protection on the courts. I again question the meaning of the word “severe.” I again shrug it off as a matter of semantics. Choices have been made. The die is already cast. What will be will be.

Then, around Spencer, the heavy downpour surprisingly begins to weaken. By the time I pass by the old grocery store on the south side, it is merely a sprinkle. Marshfield has no rain whatsoever.

Ah, okay. Nice. Clearly the storms were just to the north. This would be perfectly fine actually. Crazy what 20 miles could do.

We play our first set and lose, as is tradition. For most of the set, all is well. The clouds overhead are dark, but they have been since I arrived. A light sprinkle begins to settle over the courts as our first set comes to an end, but I try not to think much of it. Surely it’ll just stay light, right? Surely the heavier storms were just to the north, right?

I’m wrong, of course. I tend to be on such things.

As we start the second set, the heavens open up. Not in the cool, cinematic, light shining down through the clouds kind of way, but rather the unleashing metric tonnes of cold rain from the sky sort of fashion.

Cool. Very cool. The ball slips through the fingers of setters, players are blinded by the rain as they try to spike, sand collects on everything even more due to the now slick surfaces. The teams on the other court surrender to the elements and make a break for the shelter.

We play on. The weather isn’t severe enough yet. The poor conditions are actually a boon to our squad. Now the other team is making as many unforced errors as we do under normal circumstances. We actually win the second set.

There is some question as to if we play the third set, but it is not as if we are somehow going to get more wet at this point. Clearly, the weather is not severe enough to call it quits yet.

While my gut reaction to the rain was general dislike, now I strangely feel energized by it. This is…fun? Is this Stockholm syndrome? I don’t know…all I know is that even a hurricane would not be severe enough to stop this match now. One way or another, we are finishing this.

And we do. I barely notice the rain now. It has become just a part of life, as much as a backdrop as breathing or feeling the cold sand beneath my feet. It may as well be a sunny, June evening as far as I’m concerned.

Severe weather? What severe weather? We win again, somehow, and I’m feeling great. I tell Neal that this was what it was like in Colby when I asked if we were going to play or not and why I was surprised by his answer. He notes that he wouldn’t have sent that if he had known how bad it was going to be.

I shrug. Nah. This is nothing. I even prefer it this way now.

Adrenaline is crazy. It makes you think crazy, insane thoughts. I find myself disagreeing with my opinion on my cold, wet drive home after it has ebbed away. Still…it was kind of fun, right?

If the weather continues like it has, I will probably have another opportunity to test that hypothesis this Thursday. Is there any weather too severe? Probably, but we haven’t found it yet.

A C ERTAIN POINT OF V IEW

BY

NATHANIEL U NDERWOOD REPORTER