For those not familiar with the sport, water polo has been variously described as waterborne rugby, waterborne soccer, hockey at 70 degrees, and the last best bastion of ancient Greek homoeroticism. Before reviewing the rules, two important meta-items. First, no, there are no horses. Second, there are no new jokes to be made about the lack of horses (although all are free to take their shot in the comments). Trust me on this one. My water polo cred comes from four years of playing in the water polo mecca of St. Louis, one year at the far end of the bench in college, three years of coaching the women’s team in college, and a brief, glorious summer scrimmaging with the Washington Wetskins. (Ask Mrs. Cosmo about that particular story.) [I never ever ever get sick of talking about the Washington Wetskins -- ed.]
The object and rules of the game are pretty simple: 1) using only one hand at a time on the ball, 2) throw the ball into the goal, 3) while not drowning. That last bit, of course, is where the complications arise. Basically, if you have the ball, the other team can do anything they want to you, except for hitting with a closed fist. So you’ll see ball-handlers getting whacked, slapped, grabbed, kicked, pulled underwater, and pretty much anything else that would prevent them from putting the ball into the net. On the other hand, if you don’t have possession of the ball, the rules are technically akin to a loosely called basketball game – if you have position you’re entitled to hold it, and you’re not supposed to cream the other guy too badly when he’s trying to move around the pool. Technically.
The challenge, of course, is that the two referees can’t see very well underwater. Because the players essentially support themselves by kicking their legs in opposite-rotation circles (think of an eggbeater), the hands are left free for all kinds of mischief. One particularly useful technique is to hook a thumb into the waistband of your opponent’s suit and use him as leverage. Even better is the ability to wrap an opponent’s legs up with one of your own, thus enabling the perpetrator to raise both hands above the water and look innocently at the referee, who is wondering why the opponent has been replaced with a stream of bubbles rising from two feet underwater. While serious injuries are rare, it is virtually impossible to get through a game without an injury that, if viewed by the Department of Child Services, would likely get you put in foster care. Most common are bruises to every part of the body; sprained fingers, elbows and shoulders; broken fingers, noses and eardrums; shallow gashes (despite the pre-game inspection of fingernails); and dislocated jaws. My personal favorite injury was the violent removal of one particularly arrogant bastard’s hoop earring, which dangled just far enough outside his ear protector formean opponent to do the honors.
If you get caught doing something sorta bad (like hitting a guy after he has dropped the ball), the referees will call a “common foul,” which results in an immediate free throw, kind of like an indirect kick in soccer. These common fouls occur constantly, and the action hardly skips a beat – so don’t worry about the constant whistles. If you get caught doing something worse (like pulling someone backwards while they are going for the ball), an “ejection” or “exclusion foul” is called, and the perpetrator is kicked out of the pool for twenty seconds, during which time the other team has a man advantage power play.
That's it for the rules of the game. In a few hours, we'll post Mr. Cosmo's Olympic preview.
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