The annual Island Dodgeball Championship is taking place at Holland College’s Community Centre of Engagement on a cold freezing February night. I walk into this building feeling all sorts of emotions, they feel quite similar to the ones from the previous year. For the most part, my veins have been filling up on adrenaline for the past few weeks and were soon ready to burst. I can feel the excitement coursing through my body, ready to represent my school and show my audience once again what I can do in hopes of being a back to back champion, but I’m also feeling nerve pains settling in my stomach as my claustrophobia kicks in. I am also trying to bare the fact that this year, my name is going to be read out to the crowd and that it’s going to be pronounced horribly wrong.  

As my teammates and I get into our jerseys and sports gear, we wait patiently for the opening ceremony to commence on the running track just above the gym floor. There was a designated spot with our team name “Just Dodge It” written on a piece of paper where we would leave our stuff. We point out some familiar faces in the crowd sitting down in the bleachers, hoping they would see us. I have three people coming to watch me play. My parents, who came in with me, and my boyfriend who was arriving later on since he was coming from Summerside. Once he arrives, I start calling out his name, not having much luck. Our coach, Maxime, overhears me so he decides to shout his full name at the top of his lungs, which gets his attention and only makes me cringe and giggle at the same time. Coincidentally, his name is the exact same as one of my classmates, Nick, which makes our school’s guy team very confused.

Once it’s time to get in line to exit the tunnel and on to the court, I start feeling light-headed, but I manage to run out without any issues and the best part, the announcer doesn’t even say my name that badly, but there’s still room for improvement. Our team stood in a single file line watching the other teams make their entrance, some more extravagant than others, with some familiar faces. The national anthem is blasting through the big speakers once the final teams enter as we hear some of the players sing their hearts out while we just stand there quietly, taking it all in. All of a sudden, the blinding lights beam down to the floor and we hear the roaring chants coming from the crowd, ready to watch some dodgeball.

Our first game is against The Braves, representing Charlottetown Rural, one of our top competitors in many school sports. My nerves start to kick in again as we see how many more players they have compared to us, we only have the bare minimum of players required, 10 players. I can tell that the referee can see just how nervous I look as he explains our boundaries. We line up on the back line waiting for the head referee to give us the commencing whistle. I feel my heart racing and the blood coursing through my veins faster than a gun could shoot a bullet. Go! I run to the center line, hoping to reach a ball, but an opposing player gets there before I do. For the first few minutes, I stand in the court feeling confused as to why the game was moving at such a slow pace, none of the players seem like they want to throw. Soon enough, insults start flying out of my mouth. I’m not entirely sure where they’re coming from, but I guess it was my attempt at getting the other team mad, and it worked. Balls are flying and all we do is dodge with only a few of us getting hit. Unfortunately for me, I make a failed attempt to catch a ball and walk myself to the chairs for eliminated players. Once the time hit zero, we notice that we have more players on our side still on the court, which means that we win. We jump for joy and huddle in for a group hug. Our level of motivation just gets higher from now.

We have quite a bit of time until our next game, but we’re ready once it’s time to play Souris’ team, the East Point Dodgers. I have a few friends on that team, so it’s nice to have a friendly rivalry. In the opening rush, I’m happy to see that I retrieve a ball, but I am soon disappointed to see that the opposing team catches my ball with absolute ease. The game itself is very entertaining, my friends on the opposing team keep falling like a newborn horses, which makes us laugh uncontrollably. All of a sudden, we discover that we aren’t focused enough and that we’re losing players quicker than we anticipate. Suddenly, the worse comes upon us in absolutely no time, one on one. This game can go either way, I’m just barely sitting in my chair screaming in fear for our sole player standing. She pulls quite the miracle, hits the final opposing player and earns us another win. We know at this point that there’s no more dilly-dallying, strictly game.

Our last preliminary round is against Montague’s team “Throwing Shade”, who seem like a weaker team, but we remember that we must keep our A-game. In the opening rush, I manage to snag two balls out of two opponents hands. Feeling proud, I immediately throw them and what do you know, two opposing players catch them both. I feel kind of discouraged, even after our easy victory since I didn’t have the chance to play much of that round.

Once halftime comes around, I try looking for Nick just to check up on him, but I can’t see him anywhere, he doesn’t even answer his phone. I ask everyone where he could be, yet no one has a clue. So I decide to sit with my friends awaiting our semifinal game to commence. After an interference during one of the tie-breaking games, I see that Nick has returned to his seat. I go over to him a little annoyed and put him in the hot seat with a series of questions. “Where on earth did you go?”; “Why didn’t you respond to my text messages?”; “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to leave for such a long time?” I’m relieved when he told me he went to Tim Horton’s down the street to eat some supper and thankful he made it just in time for our semi-final round.

We’re facing off against the Bluefield team “One Last Shot”, the winners of the December Shootout, which was held a few months prior to the tournament. We know we’re up against some serious competition. We line up once again on the back line, rubbing the crusty dirt off our shoes. I say to my teammate next to me in rapid breaths, “I really hope we can pull this off.” She tells me to keep my head in the game and to just go all out. Sam McPhail blows the whistle and all of us ran faster than gazelles being hunted by hungry cheetahs. I snag the ball, make my way behind the attack line and throw the ball without any hesitation. I pace around our side of the court hoping that I don’t get hit and pick up any ball in my sight. I target one of the slower players on the court and sling my arm back, I find my inner force and release the ball feeling confident that I struck her out. Unfortunately, this player makes a marvelous catch which leads to me walking the sad road back to the seats. I sit there without much hope that a ball will be caught to send me back in the game. I watch somberly as our numbers lower and eventually, there are two players from “Just Dodge It” against four from “One Last Shot”, it’s the strongest players that remain. They launch their balls with ease and strike out our last two players. They release their joy with ear-piercing screeches and jump at such incredible heights that it creates an earthquake every time they hit the ground. We give each other pats on the back as we make our way to the track. Nick pulls me aside to give me a hug after seeing the disappointment that had just taken over my body. All I want to do at this point is to get changed back into my regular clothes and leave the building. I quickly gather my things on the track and make my way back to the main floor.

The finals for the women’s division is about to take place when I make it back down to the main level. I notice Nick had sent me a few text messages. One of those messages reads “Sorry you’re feeling down, I know a way to cheer you up though, look down.” Not sure what he means, I decide to stay until he can make his way over to where I’m standing. I stand with other teammates as we watch our biggest opponents take home the trophy after such a close round. A big uproar forms in the crowd of Bluefield students, making it impossible to hear. I see Nick walk over to me, carrying his jacket in an awkward grasp, he gives me one last hug and asks me once again how I’m feeling. I’m thinking to myself about how many times he’s asked me this question and should know at this point that I’m upset, my face said it all. All of sudden, he backs up and promises me he’ll cheer me up. He reaches his hand inside his jacket and pulls out a neon yellow poster so bright it can blind the entire city of Charlottetown. On it was our team logo, along with words written in bold black marker “Just go to prom with me.” I’m having such a hard time processing what’s happening. I see the arms of teenage girls flailing around from the corner of my eye, looking like pieces of raw bacon being swung around. I also sense the pain of freshly manicured nails digging into my skin as well as my head being compacted against a torso that smelled of somewhat soothing coconut perfume. But it seems all I can do is stand frozen solid. Nick brings me in for a picture with the poster before I have the chance to react. I realize quickly enough, the reason why he left for such a long time was that he went to bring in the poster, but had to find some way to hide it from me. Without any warning, all of my emotions hit me like a hurricane. All you can hear are my sobs and my friends' giggles overpowering the screams of cheering fans. Never in my life have I did I feel more appreciated than at this very moment. I get lots of hugs from teammates and friends, as well as congratulatory compliments from the staff and spectators. In no way did this year’s championship compare to last year’s victory, but did I ever experience the same waves of great sensation. I guess you can say that Holland College’s Community Center of Engagement got to witness its first engagement.