Sports at Iowa State suck.

Let me rephrase that before I get a call from the Jacobson Building. Intramural sports at Iowa State suck.

Wednesday afternoon, my softball team dropped a five-inning classic. Did we lose because we were behind after all the innings? Of course not. We lost because we were behind when time ran out. Yes, there is a clock in softball at Iowa State.

It never once occurred to me when I was patrolling left field with my fishing net of a glove that I should full-out sprint off the field between innings to ensure I would be able to play a full game. As anyone who has ever watched a baseball or softball game knows, time really isn’t an issue.

What made my 50-minute fun bender even more aggravating was when the final whistle blew (there wasn’t actually a whistle, the ump just kind of walked away), not only was the game over, my whole season was over. Yep, one game. Our first-round matchup was rained out, and for some unknown reason we “lost” the game that never happened and got put in the consolation bracket. Just like the pros.

Maybe if this was the first incident I wouldn’t be so distressed over the whole debacle. But as you are about to find out, I have a long history of quirky happenings in my numerous attempts at post-high-school athletic glory.

Last year my friends played on a hockey team in the C/D league. I was studying abroad, or else they would have been A for sure. After cruising through the exhibition games a little too easily, they got bumped up a few levels for the tournament. A few was a few too many.

Armed with only two former players, a goalie who couldn’t stand on his skates and a pedestrian knowledge of the game, they showed up for the first playoff game expecting a fair matchup.

That lasted about 30 seconds after arrival.

When they showed up, the other team was already there. In full pads. Going through drills. When my goalie asked for the pads, the workers had to go find some because all the other teams at that level had their own.

For my ego’s sake, I’d like to think my being there would have helped, but considering I’ve played a total of zero organized hockey games in my life (I know, I’m the only male from Minnesota who can say that), I’m sure the slaughter would have happened regardless.

You’d think that if one team was going through NHL-like warm-ups while some people on the other team were trying to figure out how to put on a helmet, someone with Rec Services would notice and put a stop to it. Not at Iowa State.

My final complaint (I promise) comes from yet another sport. Two years ago in an NCAA-worthy basketball game, my team was forced, yet again because of time constraints, to play 3-on-5 for about three minutes while two of my teammates dammed the sudden exodus of blood from their faces.

It was partly our fault for only having five players, but come on. After a headbutt and an elbow – both at least somewhat on purpose – we’re down two players and a combined pint of blood, but we got the game done in 50 minutes.

At Notre Dame, the football league not only has pads, but they play real games and the championship is held on the varsity field in Notre Dame Stadium. That beats flag football on a lumpy field behind Maple-Willow-Larch where you are as likely to roll an ankle as to fantasize about playing in Jack Trice. At the University of Minnesota-Duluth, the hockey league gets five preliminary games before the playoffs. No one-and-dones up north.

I understand there are thousands of athletes trying to get hundreds of games in. But for most of us, this is our only competitive athletic outlet, and I can’t help but feel robbed. At some point, the quality of the experience has to match the quantity.

My last chance to win another coveted intramural champion T-shirt is volleyball, and I’m not even sure if I’m on a team or not. But if so, I can’t wait. Best two of three, first two to 25 points, third one to 15. Unless it’s time for the next game.