There are only two things I hate in this world.

January 15, 2010

There are only two things I hate in this world.

… People who are intolerant of other people’s cultures, and the Dutch!”

Except that whooooo boy howdy, have I become an intolerant sumb*tch.   Which I discovered last night.

First match of the night went really well.  I beat a higher-ranked player, while being coached by a new teammate whose style is, perhaps, a bit more aggressive than a lot of people would like.  By that I mean, he’s wont to jump in and call a time-out rather than wait for the player to ask for one (there is a limit to these that depends on the rank of the player in question).  He’s got a definite idea of how he wants the game to be played.

BUT, and this is something I’ve learned to try more recently with anyone who’s coaching me, he’s also willing to listen.  And to go with my plan, if I can clearly explain why my way is better.

So the first half of the night was great.  I was coached, but not overruled, and I won my match without it taking FOREVER.  Oh, and did I mention I had zero time to warm up?

For my other team, I was matched up against a lower-ranked player (yes, that does exist), which meant I now had a one-game disadvantage – I had to win three to her two.  I’ve played her before, and know that she’s well-coached and thoughtful enough that a one-game head start makes things challenging.  It was getting late, and I just wanted to play the game and get out of there.

So when a friend of my teammate’s started getting obnoxious, I tried to ignore it and shrug it off.  But I don’t really like socializing during a match anyway, unless it’s friendly banter with my opponent.  Between shots, I want to survey the table and figure out (1) how I screwed up, if I screwed up, and (2) what’s my best strategy – where my problems are, what my opponent is likely to do.  I have a team counting on me, and sometimes I get a little intense.

When that obnoxiousness started spilling over into comments about my playing, banal “jokes” about my opponent’s height (that I wondered if she could hear), and attempts to draw me into similarly-oriented conversation between shots, I started to get really annoyed.  Because the last thing I want to deal with on league night is THAT guy.  The salesman personality stooping to the least common denominator who you just KNOW is going to act like you’re the one with the problem when you point out that he’s a hell of a lot more annoying than he is funny.  Whose welcome is worn after roughly eleven minutes.

There’s a chance this guy will wind up on the team, and I’m just not interested.  A far cry from the girl who would give anyone approximately 347 chances, I just don’t see the merits of tolerating THAT guy.

Is this what growing up means?

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