Power and Grace: Misti May-Treanor of the U.S. in the 2008 Olympics gold medal match. Photo by Vincent Laforet for NEWSWEEK
By Ashley Harris
In the summer of 1996 I was formally introduced to spandex. Not long after my cousin, former U.S. National Volleyball Team member Penny Lucas-White, accepted the head women’s volleyball coaching position at the United States Air Force Academy; I spent the first of what would become many summers in Colorado Springs training with the some of the top players in the country. When I arrived for the first day of camp I was surrounded by young ladies my age who had at least two years playing experience on me. These girls wore their unadorned hair in high ponytails or buns. The sleeves of their t-shirts tucked lazily into the straps of their sports bras to keep arms bare, and yes, they had spandex on. Clearly, I missed the memo that an integral part of this sport is not only comfort, but also image, which are not mutually exclusive entities.
This is especially true in the beach variety of the game. Since the introduction of beach volleyball at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, the two most frequently asked questions have all been variations on this theme: “Isn’t this terrible that the players are half-naked?” and “Isn’t this awesome that the players are half naked?” As a player I learned that the answers to both questions basically came down to this: Yes, there are a lot of practical and competitive reasons we wear these uniforms. And, no, sexualization of the sport isn’t one of them.
Sure, there are legion beach and indoor volleyball fans that tune in to watch hot girls in bikinis, and, you know, if there’s a game involved, so much the better. At least in the minds of some 15-year-old--or 60-year-old--males, watching taut, half-naked bodies drip in sweat as they dive into the sand is some version of nirvana, but there are actual reasons for the skimpy uniforms. First is comfort: the reduced amount of clothing helps cool body temperature in matches that are often played under a grueling mid-day sun. Some critics have argued that more dermis level injuries came from the lack of clothing. Possibly, but the majority of my injuries came from areas not normally covered by clothing anyway. I have left plenty skin on the court, but it came from my elbows, shins and wrists.
The uniforms are practical and more comfortable than wearing loose fitting clothing. Those first weeks of camp, while I was wearing my old baggy basketball shorts and t-shirts, I noticed the girls moved more efficiently on the court than I did. They seemed to jump higher and land faster. Not only did they seem lighter in the air, they were diving and getting up quicker - not drowning in mesh shorts that seemed to always get in my way. They were able to roll over their shoulder and see the net, not the hem of their shorts. Suddenly, my shorts felt like a parachute, impeding my blocking and hitting. Many of the players I admired, like the current U.S. women’s indoor captain Danielle Scott-Aruda, wore the smaller uniform and was able to command the court without looking self-conscious.
In fact, as I learned, it was just he opposite. There is nothing more intimidating than watching a group of twelve six-foot tall women slam a ball down at speeds of 90 mph and seeing nothing jiggle, wiggle or move on their bodies. Watch The University of Nebraska Lady Cornhuskers play one day. Watch May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh. Watch the current Olympic team. They take their opponents out of the game before they step foot on the court by physical appearance alone. More than anything, they carried themselves like volleyball players. All sports have it, that certain swag that says “hey, I’m an athlete and I’ll kick your ass on the court/field/track/pool.” A 27-inch vertical didn’t matter to me anymore; I wanted to look like them.
I bought an acceptable pair of spandex shorts and a control top bikini to play in. At first, it was a bit of an unnerving, self-conscious experience. But soon noticed an improvement. I slid across the ground without worrying my shorts were going to fall off and expose my undies. I could get in the “ready” position--full squat, one foot slightly forward, and on the balls of my feet--prepared to pass the ball without having to constantly adjust my shorts before the whistle blew. The same applied with beach volleyball. Shorts and shirts were for amateurs. The effect was the same, I wasn’t stuck in my clothing after diving in the sand, I wasn’t fooling around with the waistband of my shorts and I wasn’t overheating under the blazing Colorado sun. Plus, I looked like I was about to hurt someone’s feelings on the court. As the years went on and I became a serious player, the shorts got shorter and the uniforms got tighter. It was great not to get stuck in my shirt or my teammates shirt when coming down from blocking the ball in tandem.
So to the naysayers I say, get over it. Consider that beach volleyball athletes have the option to wear one-piece bathing suits, but the majority choose not to. There’s function to the form, and as these gold medals keep rolling in from our nation’s top volleyball competitors people will soon remember that this is sport, not mud-wrestling.
