That Didn't Happen

So you may have noticed that I never posted about the results of my last tournament… Yeah, that’s because we didn’t win. Whoops. But there is always next time right? Of course I’m right. Here’s the thing though, we lost to the one person we vowed not to: none other than a former coach, Bob. We hated this coach, and hated losing to him even worse. You see, the reason for such a deeply rooted dislike for this particular coach is, well his nickname among the players was Boner Bob if that helps to make it clear. Now I had played up with his team my first and second years on Elevate, due to that I had actually become comfortable around him as a coach. Mainly because I liked his tactics: first off, you’re here to play, so show up ready for the game. Second, this is a sport not a beauty show, so stop constantly worrying about how you look. And third, if you want a playing spot you have to earn it. However this was before he started coaching my age group as much.

As Bobby became more involved with girls on my team and the B team, the rumors started. Given that I had never experienced him doing this I didn’t believe it, but then there came the tournament when it happened. After that season however, no one had seen or heard from him, until the invites for the new club he was starting. Unfortunately, we lost a couple of players to him, those traitors!

Aaanyway, enough about the creepy coach. This time, we were gonna get GOLD!! 

My team after taking second in the gold bracket

We did get to the gold bracket, we just didn’t win it. We lost to Apex by less than ten points between both of the games in the match. You don’t understand how pissed I was for every point I gave up. I’m really competitive and I had a deeply rooted need to beat this team as a recovery from last time… That didn’t happen. 

But I did walk away with my medal first medal of 2015, and I can’t wait to sontinue my collection on the fourteenth! (I know, it’s Valentine’s Day. I apologize now to my boyfriend, Dillon)

That's Game.

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.

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.