It’s amazing how often my direction has changed in regards to the topic of this column. When I first sat down, I only had one subject to discuss, the AVP Clone Challenge. However, after visiting KindaGood.com, I realized the tournament hadn’t quite reached the completion point. Instead of one grand champion, we still have four semi-finalists.

So, the logical solution is simple. I urge you to return to KindaGood.com once more to polish off Phil Dalhausser’s latest prize. While you’re at it, enjoy the brilliant commentary and well chosen photography accompanying each match-up, courtesy of KG and Ken Delgado.

With that discussion postponed to a later date, and one that I will happily write about on my blog in the off-season, I am presented with an ideal opportunity to talk about something a little more personal. If that isn’t what you were looking for when you picked up 2008’s sixth and final issue of DiG, I apologize in advance. Just something I like to do. It helps remove accountability.

November 1st was an interesting day for me. Two things occurred that would change my life forever. At 2 p.m., in the small town of Mount Vernon, Iowa, I married my girlfriend of three and a half years. I am now responsible for not only myself, but also for a beautiful woman with a brain twice the size of mine. Crazy, I know, and more than a little scary. But that’s what life is when you finally grow up – a little scary. And difficult, and stressful, and even a little heartbreaking. But life as an adult can also be exhilarating, especially when you finally commit to something that could make every day on this planet exponentially better.

At around 10 p.m., after more than one champagne toast, I enrolled in a program called NaNoWriMo. Don’t even attempt to decipher that acronym on your own. It stands for National Novel Writing Month. Yes, you read that correctly. I’ll be spending the rest of November attempting to finish a 50,000-word novel with 100,000 other blind fools who also signed up at nanowrimo.org. Either we’re all crazy or we’re all unemployed and overwhelmingly bored.

Why would I spend my wedding night signing up for something that will consume every minute of the next 30 days and result in a combo platter of insanity and insomnia and, if my wife is smart, maybe even divorce? Because she’s the one who created a username, typed in a password and pressed send. Because she’s the one who believes in me not only as a pseudo-professional beach volleyball player but also as a part-time professional writer; and she knows that my life will never be satisfied until I finish writing the novel I set out to write almost 10 years ago. Not to publish with Penguin Putnam and join Stephanie Meyers on the New York Times best seller list. Just so I can sit down, drink a glass of ice tea on the balcony and say, “I did it.” Almost like running a marathon but with my hand and a leather bound notepad from Italy replacing the shoes and really short shorts.

So that’s what I’ve got on my plate. Don’t try to reach me. I won’t answer, at least not until December. I’m not guaranteeing anything, but I will say this: “My life right now is more than a little exciting.”

It just so happens that the potential of our sport is also very exciting. The AVP’s board of directors recently brought in a new CFO, Jason Hodell, and for the first time since I’ve been involved with the game, the players are genuinely thrilled about our future. Jason is a former player with impeccable business and military credentials, and, from what I can tell, he completely understands the workload that will be required of him to make this tour become what it’s capable of. For those of you who read my work regularly at hansstolfus.com, you’ll notice a very distinct hint of optimism in my tone, and trust me, it’s legitimate.

As I sign off for the year, I just want to say one more thing. Canyon Ceman will be missed on tour in 2009. I know he doesn’t fully appreciate my “write-like-I-talk” style of composition, but I value the fact that he’s smart enough to know I could do better; in writing, volleyball and life. After he injured himself during his last match at Manhattan Beach, I text messaged him inquiring about his health and he responded with this, “Surgery Tuesday. Signs come loud and clear. It’s over. On bright side, I have my opening paragraph for my retirement article. Have fun tomorrow. You will miss it when it’s gone.”

As entertaining as it is to dream of one day becoming a successful author and worthy husband, beach volleyball will always be beach volleyball.

He’s more right than he’ll ever know.

The Groveler’s Report
www.digvb.com | 2008 Issue #6