The moment I scream, my team screams with me. Ten girls and a trustworthy coach, cover 900 square feet. We hit the floor without hesitation, work to achieve a great set, and scream together as the volleyball crashes to the ground.
Ninety-three teams were entered in the USAV’s National Qualifier in Indianapolis, Indiana. The top three were to receive a national bid. Predicted to lose, with our tallest player at only 5’10”, we went in with nothing-to-lose attitudes. My two-year-old team was ready to alter the reputation of our undersized club team. We excelled through the first round and took every match. We then managed to pull through the second round and are put in a tie for a spot in the gold bracket.
Never had I witnessed a team play as cohesively, as my team did during that match. To be a part of that, especially after an ACL reconstruction surgery, was remarkable to me. It was during this match, that I realized the hard work in physical therapy, the social sacrifice, and all the floor burns had paid off. It was evident our heart was worth more than our talent.
We made it to the semifinals. We made only few errors, but the other team got the win. In my mind though, losing to them wasn’t a defeat. I believed I had the best team at the qualifier made up of ten girls and an admirable coach. In addition, top three receive a bid to nationals – that was us. We celebrated are achievement and our future trip to nationals. With tears welling in my eyes, I began to scream. My team screamed with me.