I Heart Volleyball

Volleyball season is here again! Looking at the calendar, I was worried about what I got myself into by coaching again, but after the first practice I remembered why I do this. Pure unexplainable joy. Who would have thought that bouncing a ball off forearms could do so much for me. Although, I think it's the power of hitting that I love. But setting is unexplainably satisfying, as well.

My old team graduated last year, and I loved them so much that I wasn't sure how I was going to cope with the new crew of adolescent girls. Then, they seemed more interested in decorating themselves than with the volleyball part at first. But as it turns out, they love it too, and they are willing to listen. Luckily, they seem to be under the false impression that I know what I am doing as a coach.

It's not all roses, though. We had our first match this weekend, and the games were very close - but we lost. I've certainly lost before, but I couldn't shake this one off right away. I'm afraid it was my fault because I could have done a better job with the line-up. There's just too much going on during the games for me to see everything and adapt the plan a lot as we go... all the while trying to maximize the impact of the best players yet not appear to favor anyone since that's not in the spirit of the league (and parents are all watching closely). Fortunately, several people reassured me that I'm doing a good job, and it actually sank through my thick skull a little. It takes time to get to know the girls as players, and now I know more after seeing them in a game. Just like we tell the girls: if you aren't making any mistakes, you aren't doing anything challenging enough. Somebody keep reminding me about that, please.

I am lucky to only have a few regrets in life. But a big one is not trying out for volleyball my junior year of high school because I wasn't sure I would make it again. Fear! Perfectionism!! Sad. Luckily, volleyball found me again right when I really needed to remember I had a strong and athletic side.

P.S. Another big regret... calling my dad on his 64th birthday without having John, Paul, George, and Ringo sing "will you still need me, will you still feed me..." I may have failed as a daughter.