There are few statements that I have chosen to commit to memory. Some have been ingrained into my mind by repetition, others go in one ear and out the other. But the few statements that I choose to hold on to came in the moments that I needed them most. To some people, a simple congratulation is something that leaves their mind as quickly as it entered. To me, being congratulated is an honor in of itself, especially when it comes from the most unlikely of sources.
I remember that night clearly. My team was out on the court, the bleachers were full of spectators from both our team and the opposing team. It was the last home game of the season, my last chance to really prove myself as a valuable part of the volleyball team. I remember sitting on that chair, the pleather surface sticking to my exposed thighs, my kneepads sliding down over my sweaty knees. My water bottle sat at my feet, the water inside untouched. I watched each volley, hoping that Coach would put me in the game, even just for a second, but I knew it was a long-shot. This wasn’t like my band class, where I could just set my flute down and pick up my trombone when I wanted to. I just didn’t have the physical aptitude Coach was looking for. I screamed my head off, cheering for the team I wanted so badly to belong to, when it happened. We lost the second set in the game, leaving us at a stalemate. Coach called me over to her chair. I looked in her hand, and my number was written on her rotation sheet. I was excited, but nervous. I was up to serve first. Out of all three seasons and all the summer camps I had been to, this was the one thing I had never mastered. None of my calculus experience had helped me to formulate how to do it correctly, and the laws of physics seemed to fail when the ball was in my hands. Nevertheless, I didn’t turn her down. This was my chance to prove myself.
Something I had learned long before this moment is that if one thinks about doing something too much, they will eventually talk themselves out of it. It had taken me years to learn how to ride a bike, simply because I was an over-thinker. But I learned to overcome my overly cautious nature over time. It was in the milliseconds before my hand made contact with the ball that I remembered my bike. I realized that I had worked hard to get to where I was, and that even if this serve bounced back from the middle of the net, nothing could take away the pride I had in the fact that I had made it this far. To my utter shock and disbelief, the smack of my hand on the ball was not followed by a swish and a light thud; rather, it was followed by two loud thuds: the ball on the floor and the player who missed her dive. I had aced my serve. The rest of the game was a blur. I managed to land two more serves before I was subbed out for the next rotation, but I hardly noticed the cheers and whoops anymore. As I sat back down in my chair, Coach looked me in the eye and said one of the statements I will never forget. “Well done, Rache.”
So simple a statement, but it was that statement that made the hellacious season I had gone through that year, even beyond volleyball, worth it. I had been trying for so long to please my coach, and I finally did, and I was proud of myself. I felt like I belonged. I had fought so hard for something that I wanted. When I think about my future, I know that I won’t necessarily be good at absolutely everything, but I am willing to fight for what I want in this world. I am willing to do my best in everything I do, whether it is my strong suit or not.
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