It was a long shot, to say the least.  When I first read the mass email suggesting we form an Active Website dodgeball team, I’ll admit I had my doubts.  While I’m lucky enough to be working with some of the most dedicated and talented programmers and designers in the business, the idea of us uniting to compete in some physical task made me alternately laugh and cringe.

I’ll start by telling you that I’m a designer at Active Website.  I have an art degree, which is pretty much a signed denouncement of athletic ability.  And I don’t want to speak out of turn about my co-workers, but the fact that some of our best jokes involve SQL statements leads me to believe that most of us boast little physical prowess outside of being able to hit Ctrl and F5 with the same hand (I use my thumb, which I’m told is cheating).

So no one was more shocked than me when in less than ten minutes, we had an entire team. “Even some alternates,” explained Kristal, our designated team captain.  She had competed before, knew the ropes.  “It’s really not that competitive.  We can totally do this.”

And we were foolish enough to believe her.  I can understand why – sandwiched between P.E.’s mirthless grind of football, softball, and basketball, there was always one hope for the alternately gifted; that one rainy day the coach would wheel out the rack of red kickballs and begin to line them up along the center court line.  You did not have to be a hero to play dodgeball.  You did not have to run a mile in under ten minutes – in under twenty minutes for that matter (I still don’t see how this should have affected my GPA).  No, all you had to do was step out of the way of a flying ball.  If you’ve ever had anything thrown at you, you know this is almost a reflex.  Sure, there was the inverse duty of returning enemy fire, but with all that chaos on the field, is anyone really going to notice that you have to underhand a kickball?  Surely someone here can throw.

And so was born 1 Pixel Off, Active Website’s own pick-up militia.   When our first game day arrived we exchanged excited glances, team-building high fives, good-natured jabs at our coworkers who had turned down this once in a lifetime opportunity.  After a week of tough talk, it was hard to believe that would we do any worse that frighten the opposing team into forfeit.  Would they even bother to show up after they heard who they were playing?  That Active Website, the nation’s Leaders in Real Estate Technology had extending their mighty swathe to include intramural sports?  We tried to picture the look on the faces of our – who were we playing?

“One Shot One Kill,” Kristal informed us.  “They’re undefeated.”

“UNTIL TONIGHT!”  I hollered, but my teammates failed to return my optimism.  They were confused.  How does anyone get so good at Dodgeball?  Were they practicing?  Would that be important?  Personally, I sort of assumed that given a conducive environment, I would experience something like a war-time flash back and I’d be mentally returned to my middle school gym, unleashing the indescribable fury of a twelve year old who had just chugged a two liter of Mountain Dew.  I failed to see a problem.

However the problem did not make itself apparent until we met in the gym – there we stood shoulder to shoulder against a wall while two teams lobbed around colored balls that twisted like sidewinder missiles, crashing themselves into the adjacent wall with the a loud THWAWK! that rendered itself visually in jagged word bubbles like an old Batman movie.  The teams ducked and careened; they were making calls and challenging the ref (there was a ref!), and all in matching t-shirts – they moved as one, in undeniable confidence.

“You guys are next,” the ref called from his place on the center line.

Team spirit was shaky.  Nervously we stood in an unconfident semi-circle of doubt, discussing what little hard rules we could remember.  But before we could hash out any real strategy or comforting tid-bit of knowledge, the court was cleared and we were standing across the gym from One Shot One Kill.

Now, I’m not prone to exaggeration.  I think that in such a tense situation it’s important to keep a realistic view on things.  However, I can say that without a doubt, the team we faced was composed of government test subjects constructed in some underground facility for one purpose – to dominate the Denver dodgeball circuit.  They held two balls in each hand, cackled loudly with voices dark as a murmuration of starlings, teeth riddled with the bones of last year’s second place.  It was the first game of the season, and they were hungry.

“You’re going to want to take out the big guys first,” our ref whispered our way, like he was imparting some hidden Achilles’ heel to us.  Not a single one of their players stood below seven feet.  “Ready!”

The whistle blew, and with every ounce of fervor we possessed, we ran gallantly towards our goal . . .

* * * * *

I’ve learned that much of life is a matter of perspective.  Now, we can sit here all day debating “scores” and “winners” and “losers”; all the traditional things considered important in sports.  But is there a statistic that can measure heart?  Can our team’s spirit be averaged and be printed on the backs of collectible cards (still running this idea past the marketing department)?

Sure, we can focus on the details – the wily shot that single-handedly took out our entire SEO department, the multiple occasions when one lonesome teammate glared daggers at the large group of us on the sidelines who had decided to use our untested “group special attack” at an inopportune time – but I prefer to look at the situation at the gestalt.  Our first match served the perfect backdrop to a movie voice-over declaring “THEY WERE THE WORST TEAM IN THE LEAGUE . . .”, and if my knowledge of Disney underdog movies serve me right, we’re about due some sort of whiz kid from the wrong side of the tracks, or a burned out coach that could’ve gone pro if he’d hadn’t been injured in that devastating college game back in ‘73.

So sure, the common observer might have seen us lose four games in a row.  But when it became clear that we would not need all seven allotted games, and we split the teams 50/50, 1 Pixel Off really began to shine.  With half of our team on each side, we played two games – and since one side won each game, combined our team won an entire game.  Therefore, I’d like to invite you to join me in congratulating 1 Pixel Off in their first victory.  May this be the first of many!

Pictures coming soon!