Newbie Blog: On The Korfball Terraces

My Dad first took me to watch korfball when I was five. We cheered from the terraces and, at the end of the game, I turned to him and said: “Dad, I want to be a korfballer.”

Okay, that never happened. I never saw a korfball match as a child. In fact, I went through my first three decades without watching a korfball match or even looking at one of those stupidly tall posts. So why bother mentioning this? Because if you haven’t seen a sport played then it makes it a lot more difficult to play it yourself.

Take football. Even if you’ve got no interest in football, you’ve probably still got a basic idea of how a football match works. Run around, kick the ball in the goal, and join your teammates for a loving embrace. It’s the same idea with cricket, rugby and basketball, where even a novice should have a basic idea of how they work.

But it isn’t like that with korfball. There’s no TV coverage – unless it’s one of those “here’s a quirky sport from mainland Europe” news reports – and that makes it a tough sport to pick up. How do you know how to play a sport unless you’ve seen it played?

That’s why I went along to my first korfball match on Sunday, to watch Abingdon 1 and Oxford City 1 play out a hard-fought 11-7. I was a bad crowd member – rarely clapping or cheering – but I watched intently and a few things started to sink in.

The idea of changing ends after two goals makes far more sense when you can see one team attacking each basket per half. I’ve got a bit more of an idea of some of the theory, like why we throw the ball one handed; why we need to move quickly to find space; and why we need to keep concentrating. I don’t claim that watching one match makes me an expert, but I think it at least makes me less of a novice.

The challenge now is watching more and learning more, and putting some of it into practise. I expect to start doing that in proper matches in the next couple of weeks.

And my Dad might even be there to watch.

Rich Heap

Korfball: A Newbie Writes

We’re on the cusp of a new season and three-quarters of people at the club are raring to go. The rest of us – the newbies – are still trying to work out what the hell’s going on.

When will I ever grasp this idea of changing ends? Why am I eyeballing my attacker like a boggle-eyed drunk? Is it vital to run sideways like the spaceship from Space Invaders? All these questions popped into my head at last Thursday’s training session.

Two months ago I started looking for a sport to learn, for a few reasons. I recently started working at home so I wanted to get out of the house and meet some real people; I wanted to get fitter to keep pace with the manic baby that’s been terrorising my house for the last 16 months; and I only moved to the city a couple of years ago so I'm on the lookout for opportunities for nights out.

But why korfball? Well, partly because I like the idea of a sport where men and women compete together; and partly because the club trains very close to my house. Equality is important, but so is a quick walk home.

So I came along to a training session and enjoyed it. I managed to score during my first session, with a shot that gets further out each time I think about it, and that helped to immediately boost my confidence. And I decided to stick with it because everybody I’ve met so far - both from City and deadly local rivals Isis - has been friendly and supportive of those of us who are total novices.

I’m still in the early stages where each week brings a couple of small breakthroughs. It could be a half-decent interception, finally scoring with a running in shot, or managing to get through a whole session without knocking somebody over like an over-enthusiastic Labrador. Yes, it's small progress, but at least it's progress. And if I keep it up then maybe I'll end up as one of those people who knows what's going on. 

I'd better keep practising my Space Invaders footwork.

Rich Heap