So. Netball.

So. Netball. It's just a bunch of girls playing stuck in the mud basketball isn't it? Wrong. Where did my journey begin and where will it end?
So my first 'fun' activities day at secondary school encouraged the lanky, six footer of a human that I am, (who always stuck out in the primary school playground queue - parents umming and ahhing at the strange tall kid in the bobble hat who towered over their little pea pods,) to join in. 'Well' said Brooksy, 'I think we can make a netballer out of you.' and so it began....

"Shoot, shoot!" What at? "That tall thing" (the first thing actually taller than me for a change.)
OK, so not the best technique and the lanky legs like Bambi causing a few too many trip ups in the first year. What's not to love - freezing fingers, swollen body parts and calves which resemble those belonging to Dumbo's Mum. The cat calling from the 'friendly fire' of the sidelines. 'Well, my Hannah can shoot from outside the school gates in a pair of wellies and wearing a blindfold - this one is nothing special.' Well actually you can be special and you can make things happen. It takes more than just hours of training, travelling, nail scratches, falls, thumps, bruises, hair pulling, dodgy umpire decisions, sweaty socks, over priced trainers, Haribo fizzy sweets and litres of water. It takes determination, guts, willpower and strength to do what I do. My blogs will give the contacts, obstructions and offsides to the life of a netballer. If you value your sanity, your home life, your shopping hours and any form of social contact with the male species then netball may not be for you. However, the friends who feel the same way will give you what I like to call the netball family.
So. Netball. For anyone else out there who has ever been teased for their 'giraffe like' qualities; you can show the world how useful you can be in a place where people long for you to get one in the net. The glorious feeling of being valued, being accepted as an equal and being part of a team is the ultimate pay back to all those parents who ummed and ahhed and did not want their  kids to play date the over sized 5 year old wearing the bobble hat. (Thanks Mum by the way for those extra inches created by said bobble, they really helped.)