A chorus of thuds reverberates off the walls at San Luis Obispo Ludwick Community Center on Jan. 23 as a few dozen people trickle in, set their phones and keys down, and take practice throws.
Colorful, foam-filled balls bounce around the gym. Returning participants at this weekly community game greet each other and chat. First-timers, like me, take in the scene and think back to the last time they played dodgeball (for me, it was middle school P.E.).
Around 6:15 p.m., organizers chipperly ask us to line up. The thuds stop. Standing shoulder to shoulder along the baseline, we are tonight’s dodgeball players—college students and young professionals, moms and dads, the super-athletic and not-so-athletic.
After getting a quick rundown of the rules of dodgeball, we split into two teams. Lining up on opposite sides of the court, the countdown begins.
“3 … 2 … 1 … Dodgeball!”
The next 90 minutes are a continuous blur of sprinting, shuffling, jumping, throwing, catching, laughing, cheering, and chatting. We play one game after another, after another, after another until most of our shirts are drenched in sweat.
“Dodgeball is a great athletic sport, actually,” remarks Stephen Saunders, a regular player at Ludwick for the past five years or so. “You have to throw and catch. There are quick 10-yard sprints you have to do. It’s athletic.”
He’s not joking. Dodgeball games are constant motion and action—to the point where it’s almost comical. Twenty to 30 people are running around scrambling for balls, dodging throws (or not dodging them), catching balls, batting balls to teammates, jumping in the air, all until one team has no players left. Then, the teams switch sides of the court, and it starts all over again.
“3 … 2 … 1 … Dodgeball!”
“Dodgeball is the highlight of my week,” says Owen Hughes, who’s one of the best athletes in the group. “It’s very intense. It’s constant sprinting. You’re huffing and puffing. I feel like I’m a gladiator in an arena. It’s exhilarating!”
The beauty of dodgeball, I found, is it can showcase the athleticism of its best players without alienating those who maybe can’t pull off the same stunts. For example, a less confident player, even by lurking behind the action, can still make a key catch that brings back an eliminated player. Everyone is involved and can play their own way.
“You can still make a difference on your team even if you’re the last person in,” says Michael Doremus, another regular. “A catch at the end of the game could totally change the whole dynamic.”
These free, weekly games of community dodgeball in SLO started years ago, thanks to a guy from Los Angeles named Neal Jacobson. Jacobson has since moved back to LA, but a group of dedicated players, like Josh Cohen, the owner of Foothill Cyclery in SLO, have helped keep them going.
“It’s just a great way to blow off steam,” Cohen says. “It’s fun. There’s not a lot of risk. You can get out a lot of energy. And it’s a real nice environment, as opposed to being something so insanely competitive.”
Inclusion and lightheartedness are at the core of this activity. Each week’s game draws a different group—there are the regulars, the every-so-oftens, and the newcomers—and efforts are made to avoid dividing into cliques. It’s all about building a common community and breaking a sweat, according to the regulars.
“The vibes are great,” Saunders says. “There’s good camaraderie. It’s a good community. You get to know the people—they’re really positive, uplifting people.”
The dodgeball organizers have talked over the years about forming a competitive league someday. But attendance is inconsistent and that type of formal competition brings about its own headaches, anyway. For now, they say they’re content with what they have: a fun, weekly outlet for the community to come together, get some exercise, and play a kids’ game.
“It is just so fun,” Doremus says. “There’s a reason that kids play it in grade school.” Δ
Contact Assistant Editor Peter Johnson at pjohnson@newtimesslo.com.
This article appears in Health & Wellness 2023.