From Last to First

My 9th grade year, my high school volleyball was ranked last in the state of NH and, quite probably, that meant we were most likely ranked last in the entirety of the United States. Our school was a very small, private high school - I graduated with a class of 44 students, the largest class in the history of the school. We were ranked in Class "S", which stood for "Small" in a state where the schools were divided into Small, Medium, and Large for sports classes. We only won one set (not even a full match) in our whole season, and when we did we cried and hugged each other like we had just won the championship. We pulled ourselves together then proceeded to lose the next set, and subsequently, that match. But that day we tasted victory for the very first time... and it was so, so sweet.

When you are in last place, it can be a shameful place to be. It can cause you to doubt yourself, the time you have invested in the thing, and your leadership. It can make you question whether the experience was worth all of the effort or what, if anything, you are getting out of it. It can also grow ugly into other parts of your life. It can cause you to feel inadequate, burdensome, like a disappointment, or not worthwhile to be around. These are things for parents to be aware of when your kids are confronting difficult losses, lack of playing time, or unexpected injuries. I was fortunate enough to have parents who just expected us to keep going, keep giving our best, and keep our heads high even when our performance outcomes were not their best.

My sophomore year of high school, my brother and his college roommate moved back to NH from Michigan, where they had been playing club volleyball for a few years. They took over coaching our team, introduced us to foundational volleyball skills, gave us constructive feedback, and grew out team into one of the strongest teams in the state. By my senior year of high school (so just three years later) we were state champions. We had gone from last to first.

There was a pivotal moment in the state championship game my senior year, that even received notice of mention in the local paper write up of the game. Someone had shanked (that means they skyrocketed a pass WAY out of bounds on accident) a ball that ended up flying towards the down referee headed over the scorer's table. Without thinking, I immediately chased it down and reached over the scorer's table with one arm to pop it back over my head towards the court and my teammates. Three or so of my teammates had followed me over in that direction, and one was able to easily play it back over the net to keep the ball in play - we ended up winning that point. Folks watching said it looked like an impossible play; they thought the point was over as soon as the ball was shanked. But I and my teammates did not know that impossibility to exist because of our prior experiences. We didn't think about the fact that most people would not have chased down that ball. We didn't consider that the play was any more remarkable than any other play we did in that game. We didn't pause to credit ourselves with putting on a good show - we just showed up to play the game we loved in the fullest way we knew how. And some of that knowledge grew from our early experiences of being very, very bad at the sport.

When we were ranked last, we shanked balls pretty much every game... pretty much every pass, actually. Some were worse than others but we always, ALWAYS chased them down. Our early coaches were phenomenal at teaching us hustle and persistence in effort (even if they didn't have knowledge to teach us all the details of good volleyball skill). And we loved the pursuit of the ball just as much as we loved winning the point. Early on we had familiarized ourselves with losing the point but finding satisfaction in the effort around the pursuit. So we were PRACTICED at chasing down and bringing back poorly passed balls. We knew how to adjust to overly tight sets, we understood how to turn a bad pass into a better set that resulted in a better hit, we had experience with being down by 15 points but still playing like we had the ability to win the game. And it wasn't just me who chased down that ball - my teammates were right there with me in pursuit knowing that there was a high probability I would actually touch that thing and a non-zero probability they would have a job to do afterwards. So, when we as a team turned an impossible play into just another day in our volleyball office, we surprised everyone else - but not ourselves.

In hindsight, I would not change that 9th grade season at all. The struggle and the disappointment and the frustrations of repeated losses enabled us to grow muscles of resilience that we would not otherwise have had.

As parents, sometimes it can be difficult to see the rainbow through the rain of our child's more difficult sport experiences... but it is our job to be looking for it and to be pointing our kid's vision towards it. Sometimes we are called on to parent our kids through hardship to enable them to grow resiliency muscles that they will need later on in the sport, or in life beyond the sport.

Some conversation starters to level up with your young athlete:

• That was a tough loss... what did you take from it for next time?

• I know you are feeling... (frustrated, sad, angry, disappointed)... but I feel proud of the work you put and they way you played as a team.

• I know we came up short this time, but what were some things you felt you really improved on in this game?

• How can losing help motivate you for the future?