It's game point in the second game of three in this match. After a jump serve that skimmed just over the net the crowd is screaming, yet all the players hear is silence, some wondering how freshman volleyball could be so intense. The first pass, perfect platform, with a call of “Four! Four! Four!” from across the court, it’s straight to the setter. She sets it, high, soaring, no spin, right to the outside position. The hit, her approach was flawlessly timed and the swing had great follow-through, ending was powerful and well placed. Unfortunately there was a passer, the first touch was a little sloppy, but not quite a shank. The second even worse, the ball flying behind her and towards the back line of the court. Then in comes a third player, desperately sprinting under the ball trying to line up. She makes contact, the ball lightly touching her forearms, and then…
Shank! Her feet stumble, body lurches forward, and the ball she’d worked so hard to pass is fleeting at the stands to the innocent viewers. They swing wildly above their heads to deflect the ball which slams against the wall behind them. Ref blows the whistle and the play is officially over. Our team is jumping and screaming, that’s game. Now just to do it one more time to fifteen. We’re receiving, down and ready on our toes. Steps twice, a gentle toss as we hop into motion then her hard swing. Libero passes high to the ten foot line, running to my position I yell for “Shoot! Shoot!” Setter heard me, the ball is coming close and low to the net. With a quick four step approach, I jump and reach, coming down hard with an open hand and aiming for line.
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| Image courtesy of SanFranPreps.com |
Problem? There’s a blocker, and she’s timed her jump with mine. The ball slaps against her hands and comes back down on my side. I hop sideways trying to pass it back off the net for my setter and call for a shoot again. She gave it to me, and this time I’m getting past this block. Swinging with a full load up I bring my hitting arm back and as I jump she jumps. She’s ready for another hard hit, but that’s not what I’m giving her. My arm pulls back and hands come up as the ball is lightly tipped over her fingers to land right behind her. The opposing team exchanges glares while we celebrate. The whistle blows, the ref crossing his arms over his body then bringing his hands together in front of him. That’s game.
