Travis Mewhirter's Blog, page 19

California: Just make it happen

Last week, I wrote a pair of blogs on the AVP Huntington Beach Open. They were the first blogs I had ever written, and they were just for fun, with the minor intention of establishing a beach volleyball readership. I expected nothing from them, aside from a few chuckles. What I received instead was awesome: Nearly every beach player in Huntington last week had something to say about what I wrote. Some gave me grief for not writing about them (apologies, guys and gals), others thanked me for giving them a good laugh.

And enough of you God-blessed souls shared it on social media that the blogs reached the eyes of the editors at Volleyball Magazine, who also seemed to get a good laugh and a bit of entertainment out of my writing. They offered to take my beach volleyball blogs and use them at Volleyball Magazine – and they’re going to pay me American dollars to do it!

Man, I love the beach volleyball community.

Now, not every blog I write is going to be on beach volleyball, and not all of them will be paid, but the overwhelming amount of kind responses I received showed me that there might just be some kind of niche audience for my writing, which is both awesome and flattering.

The following is a bit of both – a combination of beach volleyball, and the admiration I have for the overall ballsiness that beach volleyball players have to live the lives they do, almost all of which are deviating from society’s established norms.

The premise of today’s blog is this: If you are one of dozens upon dozens of individuals who tell me you want to move to California, that you’re going to do it soon, so very soon, like a month, or next summer, or next winter, could you please stop talking about it?

Just watch the phenomenal Nike short below.

Just, uh, you know, do it.

The California adventure

I have lived in California for exactly 613 days. If I had to guess, during at least 300 of those days, I have received a text from a friend claiming that they are “going to move to California, bro!!! I want to play beach volleyball every day!!”

I say great, that’s awesome. Come on out. No better decision.

And then come the inevitable caveats:

“As soon as I get a job!!”
“Whenever I find an apartment!!”
“Just gotta get the girlfriend on board!!”

Yeah…y’all aren’t coming to California. You know it. I know it.

It kills me to get those texts. I see and talk to people every day living the life that society demands of them – college degree, 9-5 job they don’t like, living in a state they don’t want to – while dreaming of the life they so easily could live, if only they get out of the societal hamster wheel they’re spinning in.

Moving to California really isn’t that hard. I promise. It’s just that so many people are so paralyzed by fear, which is, in reality, a paralysis by pride.

You don’t need to have a job prior to moving here.

Got a car? Drive for Uber or Lyft.

Mentally sane? Wait tables. Bartend.

Able to have a half-decent conversation? Sales associate.

Trust me, you’re not overqualified for anything if it means that you finally get to do whatever it is you want to do. Just pick up holdover jobs that’ll get you by while you’re living the life you want to live, searching for the job you want to work.

If that sounds like a fairytale, let me relay the fantastic story of Ryan Doherty, one of the best blockers in the country, if not the world.

The Bigger Unit

For those of you unfamiliar with Ryan Doherty’s story, a quick synopsis:

Ryan Doherty grew up in New Jersey, and he was an exceptional athlete with prodigious height (he has eclipsed the 7-foot threshold), a standout in both baseball and basketball. He went to Notre Dame to become a pitcher and went pro, winding up in the Arizona Diamondbacks’ developmental system. ESPN ran a story on him and headlined it “The Bigger Unit,” a flattering nickname considering that Randy Johnson, the Arizona Diamondbacks’ Hall of Famer lefty, was given the moniker, “The Big Unit.” Baseball, though, didn’t pan out. Doherty was cut, and he did some soul-searching in South Carolina, where he stumbled onto beach volleyball. He was terrible, but he liked it. He finished his degree, moved back home, didn’t know what to do, so he did what every 20-something former professional pitcher-turned-stay-at-home-son does: He packed up his car and moved to California, to pursue a sport in which he couldn’t beat teenage girls.

He didn’t have a job. He didn’t have an apartment. When it came time to drive through Las Vegas, he gambled and lost half his net worth.

So yeah, Doherty didn’t have anything figured out.

You really don’t need to have it all figured out.

Shoot first. Aim later.

When he got to Costa Mesa, he made money by delivering pizzas. During the mornings, he’d go sit on the wall in Huntington Beach and wait until somebody invited him over to hit balls or play. It’s very likely he felt stupid doing this. I can empathize. I used to do the same thing. Looking stupid is a critical part of growing – try something new, look stupid, learn, grow; rinse, lather, repeat.

Eventually, inevitably, Doherty got good – really good. He was picked up by Casey Patterson and they won an NVL, beating gold medalists Phil Dalhausser and Todd Rogers.

Then he quit the pizza place.

Now he’s one of the best blockers in the world.

If Doherty, one of the most fascinating individuals I’ve had the opportunity to interview, had done what most homogenized Americans do – wait for a job, an apartment, stability – I don’t think we would have seen him on TV last weekend, playing in the finals of the Huntington Beach Open.

Fear setting

We talk about goal setting ad nauseum. We’re constantly asked to establish our 1-, 5-, 10-, even 20-year goals. Which is fine. I love goal setting. It’s useful, practical, necessary.

But what about fear setting?

I learned about this when reading Tim Ferris’s Tools of Titans (if you haven’t read, please do so).

The basic premise of it is this: When we feel that urge to do something crazy – like, say, moving across the country without much of a plan – it’s vital to ask the question: ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’

Set your fears.

What’s the absolute worst that could happen when you take a leap of faith or do something somewhat crazy, like moving across the country?

I don’t mean to be all life-coachy here, but in my case, the worst that can happen is that my California dream fails, I kind of go broke, I move back to Maryland, I live a very normal life of a sports writer.

I’d still be exceptionally happy.

That’s really not bad, is it?

The same probably went for Doherty.

It’s my belief that the two most haunting words in the English language are ‘What if?’

God. It would kill me if I didn’t move to Florida, or California, forever stalked by those two words. I bet it would kill Doherty, too.

Maya Angelou wrote it best (she wrote a lot of things best) with this indelible line in I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings: 

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

I’ll leave it at that.

AVP Huntington Beach: Qualifier recap

Many thanks to everyone who approached me and said that they either enjoyed, or got a good laugh out of, or were entertained by my qualifier bracketology on Wednesday. It was sort of a litmus test to see if people would be interested in that sort of thing, and by the several thousand clicks it received, I’d say it went well. So for the AVP events I attend this year, and let’s be honest, probably for the ones I don’t, too, I’ll provide a couple pieces of writing.

Just trying to give the people what they want, and, in all transparency, build up a readership and momentum when my book on beach volleyball is eventually finished (ideally by the end of the 2017 season).

So…

The Award for Winner of Thursday’s qualifier goes to…

Listen. I don’t care who wins AVP Huntington Beach on Sunday. It doesn’t matter. Because Ben Vaught just won.

I don’t care if they wake up on Friday and lose 21-0, 21-0 twice in a row (they won’t). Him and his big blocker, Branden Clemens, just beat two Olympians, Chaim Schalk and Reid Priddy, two of the objectively measured best volleyball players on the planet, in the final round to qualify. In the most difficult bracket, by far. In the third set.

And they’re a combined 42 years old. Ben can’t even celebrate with a beer. He’s 20. And he just qualified through the toughest bracket in any qualifier I’ve seen. Nobody – nobody – deserves this more than Ben. He was on the beach, every day, in November, and December, and January, and February, and March. And by the time everybody else started coming out from a long off-season’s nap, Ben had climbed up a good four notches. Him and Clemens won basically every AVP Next. The ones they didn’t win it took a main draw team to knock them out.

They did it by out-repping everyone. Everyone. Nobody passed and set and hit more balls than Ben.

Nobody deserved main draw more than Ben.

 

The difference between good volleyball, and main draw volleyball

I played with my good buddy from Michigan, DR Vandermeer. We played some of the best ball we’ve ever played as individuals, and certainly as a team (it was literally the first tournament we’ve ever played, after an hour and a half of practice on Wednesday, so not too shabby). We won our first match, 21-11, 21-14, and our second, 21-15, 21-18, against a pretty solid team in Mike Boag and Eric Beranek.

We were playing good volleyball.

We were not playing main draw volleyball.

And there is a really, really big difference. I just wish it didn’t take a 21-13, 21-14 bludgeoning straight to my face, courtesy of SoCal’s finest, Chase Frishman and Mike Brunsting, to realize that.

I mean, granted, I said the day before that we should have lost to Chase and Mike, because they’re gnarly volleyball players and have an awesome entourage that is this generation’s iteration of Rosie’s Raiders – can we think of a better name for you guys? – but 21-13, 21-14?

Geez.

Shots and swings that would go down against other teams don’t go down against teams like Chase and Mike, or the McKibbins, or Ed Ratledge and Eric Zaun – the latter two both made it in with little to no stress. Every time they touch the ball, the ball is improved in some way or other.

Chase and Mike qualified in straight sets.

The McKibbins qualified in straight sets (Note: Hawaii, good at volleyball).

Ed and Zaun won their final match, against Dan Buehring and Matt McCarthy, 21-13, 21-16.

The only qualifying team to have a wild road was Ben and Clemens, and did you see their bracket? Half the matches in that monster were a main draw match! Which brings me to my next point…

Match of the Day goes to…McColloch/Rafu vs. Priddy/Schalk

I’m not good at math, or counting, or anything with numbers – it’s why I write. But if I had to venture a guess, I’d say there were somewhere between 750-1,000 people watching this match. The best part? It was the second round…of a qualifier. That’s awesome.

And so, so, so awful if you’re Kevin McColloch and Roberto Rodriguez-Bertran. I still can’t get over that draw. No. 1 seed in a 60-team qualifier and you get two Olympians, one of whom is perhaps the most respected American male volleyball player alive?

Brutal.

But for everyone else, it was great. It was a three-set thriller. I don’t really know if anybody was rooting for one team or another. Everybody applauded after every point, because every point was main draw quality volleyball, though it’s sort of comical, and a testament to the brutal rite of passage that these pre-main draw tournaments are, to note that neither team made main draw.

Qualifiers: Aren’t they fun?

Reid Priddy: Beach player

I played against Reid a few months ago, in the semifinals of an AVP Next. And he was pretty darn good. But there were things – hand setting, passing windy float serves, poking – that he didn’t really do at a super high level just yet, because he was still so instinctively indoor. I mean, it makes sense, he only went to, oh, four Olympics and won a medal of every color.

What a mediocre career.

But that was a few months ago, and Reid is about 90 percent of the way there in terms of transitioning from indoor to becoming a bona fide monster on the beach. Here’s the moment I knew: At a critical juncture in the Match of the Day, the guy hit a jumbo that fooled Rafu, one of the better defenders in the country (anyone who is top-25 or so I consider one of the best in the country; that’s my standard).

An indoor player hitting a jumbo is like Shaq all of a sudden pulling up from three and cashing it on a regular basis. Doesn’t happen. But he had a number of ridiculous gator digs, his hand sets were golden biscuits for his Canadian Olympian to put away, and his passing was almost – almost – as good as anybody who has had a beach career. I don’t think he’ll have an issue making main draws this year. This qualifier was a beast. He had to play the No. 1 seed, then Paul Araiza, a veteran, and Matt Motter, an exceptionally athletic blocker, and then my boys Ben Vaught and Branden Clemens. He’ll be just fine.

Side note: How hilarious would it be to see a four-time Olympian win AVP Rookie of the Year?

 

Freeze scoring should not be a thing

I can make this claim without bias; none of my three matches on Thursday were impacted in the least by this rule. The new AVP rules, which revert the scoring system to “old school,” or side out scoring, when at match point, are pretty ridiculous.

I should have counted the number of fans who wondered why no points were being scored at the end of a match. Why did it keep going…and going…and going, with the same score being called? I’d have made an attempt to explain it, but they’re just so plain…inexplicable… that I couldn’t. Why play a match one way for an hour and then change the rules for no apparent reason?

What’s the point?

To make it more exciting? Nope. It’s only more confusing, and for the most part, it only prolongs matches and in many cases delays the inevitable.

I don’t see the point. Nobody sees the point.

Nobody understands the point.

There is no point.

 

The next wave of the AVP is here

Not a single player in his 30s qualified yesterday. Seven of eight players are in their low to mid-20s, and then there’s Ed Ratledge, who recently hit the big four-oh.

If you wanted to see what the future of beach volleyball looks like, you could have watched any one of the McKibbins’ annihilations of whomever they played – nobody scored more than 18, which only happened once – or Chase and Mike, who won every match in straight sets, or Eric Zaun, who qualified for his first AVP main draw with Ratledge, with the smoothest play-in match he could have asked for (21-13, 21-16).

Vaught and Clemens might not be as sure of a thing to make every main draw as, say, the McKibbins or Chase and Mike, but they’re 20 and 22.

I’ve told Vaught all winter long that 2024, the (hopefully) Los Angeles Olympic Games, are his for the taking.

Hey, it’s not a bad start.

AVP Huntington Beach: Full breakdown of the 60-team qualifier

It’s here.

The AVP season – after boycotts and contract negotiations and way too many rumors and not nearly enough being grateful to play a sport, on a beach, in the most beautiful, God-blessed area in the country – is finally here, with the Huntington Beach Open.

You’re excited. I’m excited. The only people who might not be excited are my good buddies Aaron Wexler and Joel Blocksom, who had the extraordinary misfortune of drawing the ho-hum team of Chaim Schalk and Reid Priddy.

They’ve only been to, oh, I don’t know, more Olympics than Wexler and Blocksom have played in tournaments together.

That’s all a part of it. Every tournament has a land mine.

That Canadian-American, medal-hogging 32-seed is this year’s No. 1 land mine, though the 60-team qualifier is chock full of them.

Ric Cervantes and Mike Stewart at No. 57? Brutal draw for Ohioans and No. 8 Jon Drake and Chris Luers, who made two main draws last year.

Tim May and Travis Schoonover at 28? Raffe Paulis and Billy Strickland, fresh out of retirement, at 22? Both could easily qualify and it shouldn’t be surprising.

It’s gonna be fun.

Now, every other major sport, prior to a massive tournament or playoff – NCAA March Madness, NFL playoffs, NBA playoffs, Wimbledon, Triple Crown, whatever – typically gets comprehensive media coverage, breaking down upset potential, predictions, analysis, all of it. Beach volleyball doesn’t have that, so, seeing as I’m likely the only sports writer-turned-aspiring-AVP-player, I’m going to give this a whirl, breaking it down region by region.

REGION ONE: Mount Olympus

[image error]

Catchy name, right? That’s because, obviously, there are two Olympians, Chaim Schalk of Canada and Reid Priddy of the United States. If you’re Kevin McColloch and Roberto Rodriguez-Bertran (“Rafu”) this has to be one of the worst draws in the history of beach volleyball. In ’08, there was an odd policy where guys like Dax Holdren, a 2004 Olympian, and Billy Strickland were in the qualifier for whatever reason, but this is worse. McColloch and Rafu had a breakthrough season last year, becoming the first 16 seed to beat a 1 in a main draw during Seattle, coming through the qualifier to stun Casey Patterson and Jake Gibb. They were monsters. They earned the best possible seed…and, barring some insane fluke, will get a pair of Olympians in the first round.

Nice reward, huh?

Regardless, I’d expect McColloch and Rafu to come through with surprising ease. Priddy is still transitioning his skill set from indoor to beach, which is much more difficult than it sounds (though I wouldn’t know; never played indoor), and McColloch and Rafu have proven capable of beating two exclusively beach-playing Olympians.

Two teams to watch:

No. 16 Paul Araiza and Matt Motter
No. 9 Ben Vaught and Branden Clemens.

Araiza has been a steady main draw player for a few years now, and Motter, a physical blocker, has a gnarly jump serve, will probably bounce a few balls close to or on top of the pier, and likely won’t get a single serve. They’ll give McColloch and Rafu another pretty rough test.

One of my best friends in California, Ben Vaught, lives at the beach. He’s put more reps in than anybody. And he’s reaped the rewards, sealing up the West Coast AVP Next bid for the Manhattan Beach Open. Him and Clemens are a team that I doubt few genuinely look forward to playing.

Dark horse team

Ric Cervantes and Mike Stewart: They’re only seeded so poorly because they never play any AVPs, but rest assured, it wouldn’t be that big of an upset if they top No. 8 Chris Luers and Jon Drake. I’ve seen both teams plenty. I’d label this a 50-50 match.

Favorites to qualify

McColloch and Rafu
Priddy and Schalk
Araiza and Motter
Vaught and Clemens
Drake and Luers

 

REGION TWO: The Man in the Van

[image error]

Why is this bracket called The Man in the Van? Because my buddy, Eric Zaun, is the top seed in this bracket, and yes, he’s living in a 2006 Dodge Sprinter, like an absolute boss. Zaun, a 6-foot-4 defender who had a ton of success on the NVL, was picked up by Ed Ratledge, and the two are coming off a win over a stacked Open CBVA in Manhattan Beach. They are the heavy, heavy favorites to win the bid.

BUT…

Tim May and Travis Schoonover are a mis-seeded 28. Realistically, they’re a top-15 or so team in the qualifier. May’s serve, a skud missile of a jump-spin, is a monster, and Schoonover, another product of the NVL, is a long-time beach veteran. I’d slot them as the favorites to play Zaun and Ratledge in the final round.

The Man in the Van Region is significantly lighter than Mount Olympus. I wouldn’t expect as many upsets or long, three-set matches. We might get some excitement with Dave Smith and Nate Yang against Ratledge and Zaun in round two, but I wouldn’t necessarily expect it.

A fresh Ratledge and Zaun is easily a top-10, top-8 AVP main draw team.

Favorites to qualify

Ratledge and Zaun
May and Schoonover
Buehring and McCarthy

 

[image error]

REGION THREE: Next Gen

So much young talent in this region, hence the name, Next Gen. Maddison and Riley McKibbin, in their first full season together last year, qualified in all but one main draw, the only exception coming in a super-windy San Francisco qualifier. On a normal day, I’d expect them to make at least 9 out of 10 AVP main draws. This is one of them.

But there are so many young teams with exceptional talent. Reuben Danley, a lefty who is tougher to read than an organic chemistry textbook, and Dylan Maarek, one half of the duo responsible for upsetting the McKibbins in San Francisco, could do it easily, and nobody should be surprised. Danley was a beast in 2009-2010, and can still ball, and Maarek made two main draws last year, in Chicago with Jeff Samuels and Manhattan with Andy Ces.

Jake Rosener, a longtime blocker, is giving defense a try for the first time. He and Garrett Wessberg serve and sideout well, and beat No. 7 Paul Lotman and Alejandro Parra in a CBVA Open just a few weeks ago.

Ian Satterfield and Travis Woloson, another 20-something pair, is solid, and their likely second-round match, against Raffe Paulis and Bill Strickland, should be a fun one. In most qualifiers, that would be a third- or fourth-round matchup, not a second-rounder. But, alas, this is Huntington Beach. No easy paths.

At the bottom, the second-seeded team in Next Gen, is Derek Olson and Jeff Samuels. Olson had a weird year after breaking up with Jeremy Casebeer last year, but I’d argue is still a top-15 defender in the country, and Samuels, a springy blocker, is making the transition from a successful career on the NVL to the AVP.

I’d still put the McKibbins as the odds-on favorites, just because their team chemistry is surpassed only by the Bomgren brothers, but damn, any of five or six teams could make it out of this one.

Favorites to qualify

Riley and Maddison McKibbin
Derek Olson and Jeff Samuels
Reuben Danley and Dylan Maarek
Ian Satterfield and Travis Woloson
Raffe Paulis and Billy Strickland
Jake Rosener and Garrett Wessberg

 

REGION FOUR: Chalk Walk

[image error]

This might be the only region in the qualifier without a land mine or an improperly seeded team, which is why I expect it to be a chalk walk: No major upsets.

DISCLAIMER: I am in this bracket. I’m the 18-seed with my good buddy from Michigan, David Ryan Vander Meer, or DR. Obviously, I can’t give an entirely objective breakdown, so I won’t try.

Here’s my general thought: Chase Frishman and Mike Brunsting should qualify. They’re the best team in this region, probably the best in the entire qualifier, if you ask me. Chase was the rookie of the year last year. If it weren’t him, it would have been Mike. They’re exceptionally talented, ball control-oriented, physical and crafty. Chase will be as good as Taylor Crabb, if not better. Mike will be one of the gnarliest 6-foot-4 blockers on the AVP Tour one day. This qualifier is a stepping stone for them. They’re probably more focused on Friday, and figuring out how to conserve their energy to win a few matches and make it to Saturday, if not Sunday.

Upsets can happen, obviously. Me and DR can beat them. Michael Boag and Eric Beranek, a team formed in USA Volleyball’s Elite Development Program, can beat them. Paul Lotman and Alejandro Parra, probably the most physical team in the qualifier, can beat them. Miles Evans and Brian Cook can beat them, and are probably the most likely to do so.

But nobody should beat them. They’re the clear favorites.

All things objective, I expect a chalk walk, no major upsets.

With me being subjective? DR and I will be cruising to the main draw.

Hey, one can dream.

Leonard Armato, the NVL, AVP, and the new future of beach volleyball

Earlier today, I received an email from the NVL. It informed me — and the rest of the players on the NVL contact list — that its first two stops, in Dallas and San Antonio, wouldn’t be actual professional tournaments, but Rize’s, or the NVL’s version of a developmental tour. I was bummed, because I had planned on playing in Dallas and making a little southern road trip out of it, popping by New Orleans and then to the Florida Panhandle, where I first learned to play.

But when I read that Leonard Armato had joined forces with the NVL, my thoughts immediately changed tone.

The NVL wasn’t floundering.

The NVL just set itself on course to take over beach volleyball.

For those of you unfamiliar with Armato, a quick briefer: He was the AVP’s first CEO, helping form the association in 1984, building it into a pop culture phenomenon through 1990. He has represented Shaquille O’Neal, Hakeem Olajuwon, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Ronnie Lott, Lisa Leslie. He helped form the WNBA. When he took over the AVP in 2002, he inherited a bankrupt sport and in turn built it into, if not a mainstream sport, the top of the lifestyle niche sports.

It was his idea to combine the men and women on a single tour — the women competed on the awful WPVA prior to Armato taking over the AVP in 2002 — so that little-known partnership between Misty May and Kerri Walsh? You can thank Armato for that.

Armato, husband to Holly McPeak, hopped out of the game in 2008, after brokering a deal with Shamrock — the investment arm of Disney — worth $36.9 million. The stockholders shot it down, which pissed him off, so he sold his shares in the AVP and quit. Two years later, it went bankrupt, and when Donald Sun finally bought it, the AVP was worth $3 million — a $33.9 million reduction in three years.

In four years, Sun has done little to build the Tour. While reporting for my book on beach volleyball, I’ve heard from a number of players and sources that he loses anywhere from $3-5 million every year. This is not a sustainable number, no matter how much you’re worth. Armato, meanwhile, founded the World Series of Beach Volleyball, which is more a festival of California lifestyle than it is beach volleyball tournament, but perhaps that’s the point — beach volleyball was always alluring because of the lifestyle it promoted, not necessarily the sport itself.

You can’t go to an NBA game and claim your seat by burying a keg in the sand, you know?

So now here we are, Armato vs. Sun, the NVL vs. the AVP, a savvy businessman vs. someone who has been described by dozens of players as an absentee owner.

Armato partnering with the NVL is like Lebron James returning to Cleveland. He might not win the ring his first year, but give him some time, and there will be a massive shift in the landscape and hierarchy of the sport.

Armato also happens to be the representative of none other than Kerri Walsh-Jennings, the only active “household name” the sport has, and the same person who has sued the AVP and Sun, who was dumb enough — and really, this is quite profound — to alienate one of the most dominant athletes in the history of sport.

I spoke with Casey Jennings a few days ago. While he was understandably jaded at having to go through litigation with the organization that has employed him and his wife for the past few decades, he was also hopeful. They were making a stand. Something good was going to come of it, maybe something revolutionary for the sport.

Because the last time the top players protested? 1984, when Sinjin Smith, Karch Kiraly and the boys protested a rules change in which the players were not consulted (sound familiar, Chicago let rules and score freezes?). The result was the formation of the AVP Tour.

So through it all, Jennings excited. Anybody involved in the sport should be. Maybe this is the impetus beach volleyball has long needed. Maybe it’s not. But at least something is happening.

Armato, the only individual to ever sustain the economic viability of beach volleyball has finally returned to the game.

He’s just playing for a team, the NVL, that we haven’t seen win much.

 

Sara Hughes, USC national champion, joins Paper Courts

Sara Hughes was eight years old when she knew exactly what she wanted to do: She was going to play beach volleyball. And she was going to do it in the Olympics.

Fifteen years later, she’s on pace to do just that.

A standout at Mater Dei, Hughes was the Orange County Player of the Year and an All-American, which has preceded a brilliant, unprecedented career at USC. As a Trojan, Hughes has won three consecutive pairs national championships. In her junior year, partnered with Kelly Claes, the two went undefeated, dropping just one set the entire season.

Though still playing under the amateur status of the NCAA, Hughes has already made an AVP final and taken a set off of Kerri Walsh and April Ross.

Listen in as we discuss her life of beaches and volleyballs and uninterrupted dominance.

Listen in to all of the other guests on Paper Courts, including Karch Kiraly, Mike Dodd, Todd Rogers, and more, on iTunes here! 

 

 

Mike Dodd, 1996 Olympic silver medalist, joins Paper Courts

He was there for beach volleyball’s inaugural appearance in the Olympic Games — and he came away with a silver medal.

Listen to the podcast here!

Mike Dodd, partnered with Mike Whitmarsh, cemented his legacy as one of beach volleyball’s greats in Atlanta in 1996, though his legacy goes far beyond what he did on the court. He has since coached Jake Gibb and Sean Rosenthal in two more Olympic Games, and Dodd will discuss in depth his Olympic experiences as both a player and a coach.

Listen in to part two of his conversation with Travis Mewhirter. 

[image error]