Okay folks, picture this: my garage absolutely overflowing with wooden planks and hardware boxes. Felt like I’d gone nuts buying timber! But the dream was real – building a legit backyard pro volleyball court. Sounds cool, right? Way harder than I thought though. Here’s how I tackled the wooden pad flooring without losing my marbles or fingers.

The Great Timber Unload

First step? Getting all that wood off the truck. Man, that shipment was heavier than my dog after Thanksgiving dinner. Hauled those suckers one by one into the backyard where I’d marked out the court size. Sweated buckets, messed up the grass something fierce – gotta be honest, the wife was already side-eyeing me. Stacked them up neat-ish just hoping rain wasn’t forecast.

Ground Prep Blues

Learned quick the ground HAS to be dead level. Like, absolutely flat. Used a long leveler and a straight board, shuffling around like a crab looking for bumps. Found about a million little dips and humps. Spent what felt like years shoveling dirt, raking it out, stomping it down… rinse and repeat. So. Much. Earth-moving. Strong advice? Do NOT skip this part. A bumpy floor later means angry knees.

Laying the Foundation Layer

Figured the wood planks needed a solid base right on the dirt. Rolled out this thick, plastic-like fabric stuff – kinda like landscape barrier – over the whole area. Cut it roughly with box cutters. Helps with moisture and weeds sneaking up, so I’m told. Swept it clean, made sure no pebbles were lurking to cause trouble.

The Padding Puzzle

Now the fun part started. Unrolled these giant foam pad rolls right over the fabric. These are the magic shock absorbers. Trick I figured out? Butt those pad edges together TIGHT. Like, no gaps allowed. Used duct tape, the hero of DIY, to hold ’em flush. If they shift during wood laying? Disaster. Stomped on every seam, crawled on hands and knees taping like a maniac. Felt like taping a giant jigsaw puzzle together.

Board by Board Battle

Finally got to the wood! Hauled the first plank over the padding. Used this metal track thing I found online – basically keeps the rows straight. Placed the first plank against it. Measured the gap from the edge… twice. Then came the moment: fired up the drill. Slammed in the first corner screw through the plank and foam, into the ground. Prayed I wasn’t hitting a rock. Key Engineer Trick #1: Counter-sink those screw heads! Drilled them just deep enough so the screw top sits below the wood surface. Zero snagging later. Used those fancy wood screws supposedly designed for outdoors. Key Engineer Trick #2: Pre-drill pilot holes! Saved me from splitting about a dozen planks. Trust me, split wood makes you want to cry.

Laid the next plank right next to the first, pushing it snug against that straight edge. Made sure the ends were perfectly flush – tapped ’em with a rubber mallet. Measured, drilled pilot holes, countersunk screws… rinse and repeat across the row. End of row one? Actually felt kinda pumped.

Rinse and repeat. Row two, three… lost count around row ten. Back protested. Knees hurt. Fingers nearly got flattened adjusting the mallet a few times. Kept checking level every few rows diagonally. Found one board slightly proud – out came the screws, minor adjustment, back in. Tedious? You betcha.

The Home Stretch (& Sanding)

Reaching the final row felt like crossing the finish line of the world’s most boring marathon. Had to rip-cut a plank to fit the last gap. Sawdust everywhere. Swept the whole surface hard. Then came the sanding. Orbital sander hooked up, got after every single seam, every screw head spot, any slightly rough patch. Didn’t need perfection, just smooth play. Went over it twice. Cloud of dust? Total mess. Worth it.

Net Gain & First Spike

Mounting the net poles was comparatively easy. Dug holes deeper than I thought needed, cemented ’em in solid. Let that cure overnight, pacing impatiently. Threaded the net on next morning – bam! Instant court look. Grabbed the old volleyball. The Moment of Truth: Tossed it up and spiked it down onto that new wooden floor. The thud-pop sound? Perfect. Zero bounce where there shouldn’t be, springy where there should. Ran a hand over the seams – smooth as butter. Court felt pro underfoot.

Was it easy? Nope. Took way longer than the “2-Day Project!” package promised. Made plenty of “learning opportunities”. But man, standing back after that first hit? Seeing friends run drills on something I built with sweat and a few clever tricks? That feeling? Priceless. Totally worth the aching back.