Faith In Me? Really?

 

The Championships - “This Is A Disaster”

"Jason,” Coach Mike Delaney shouted. “Hey! Jason Tripp. Wake up, son. You’re not in La-La Land anymore. This isn’t SoCal. You’re in the big time now.”

Fourteen-year-old Jason Tripp snapped out of his stupor. He rubbed his eyes. Is this, he wondered, my ultimate nightmare? 

"Tripp!" the coach howled over the crowd’s clamor. "Get your butt over here. Now!"

Jason sleepwalked to the coach. His gut churned. His brain whirled. His body trembled.

“You're in,” Coach Delaney said. "There’s no one else. I know you don’t have a lot of experience and don’t want to play. So we’ll try to protect you. We’ll keep the ball out of your hands. I have faith in you.”

This is a disaster, Jason thought. The Junior Boys National Volleyball Championship Game. Two points from winning or losing the whole thing. And me going in. What if the ball accidentally comes to me?  

Jason shut his eyes...

Football - The Secret Pretending Pact

Jason remembered his horrible sixth birthday from eight years ago.

His family loved sports. Especially his dad. Especially football. 

Jason's dad’s present to him was a pee-wee football. 

It was a  beautiful, sunny morning in Dana Point, California. They were on their way to the park for Jason’s first real football throwing and catching lesson. Just him and Dad.

Jason was so excited, he’d almost peed his pants on the way.

Twenty minutes after getting there, Jason was fighting back tears. He didn’t mean to disappoint his dad. But, he couldn’t get the hang of either throwing or catching the ball.

“Just focus,” his dad had said repeatedly. Louder each time. “Concentrate. Try harder, son. Keep your eye on the ball. Take a big step with your left foot when you throw. And rotate your shoulders. How many times do I have to tell you?”

When they’d sat down on the grass in the shade of a big oak tree for a break, Jason’s eyes were filling with tears.

“Hey,” Dad said. “No crying! Stop that right now! I told you before only girls and sissy-boys cry. So knock that off.”

I know I’m letting Dad down, Jason thought. His dad had been a big high school football star. And played at a junior college, too. He talked about it a lot. 

Before going to sleep that night, Jason overheard his dad tell his mom, “Jason’s a great kid. And I love him to death. But he just doesn’t have much natural athletic ability. I don’t think he’ll ever be good at sports.”

Jason cried himself to sleep. And, made a secret pact...

Pretend to try hard, he thought.  And they'll love me for trying. And, if I secretly don't really try, I can't really be a failure. Right? You can’t “fail” at something you’re not really trying to do. It’s not my fault I don’t have athletic ability. 

But, I wish just once, that I wasn’t the last one chosen for pick-up games.

Summer Camp - The Bargain

Over the years, Jason’s mom and dad (his dad, in particular) kept pressuring him to try different sports. Jason complained, but tried. In his own way, he tried. Or, more accurately, he pretended to try.  

Except for the sports pressures, Jason's life was routine, orderly, and ordinary. The way he liked it.

That was, until that day two weeks before school was out for summer vacation when Jason was 13. 

“What summer camp do you want to try this year?" his mom had said one night at dinner.

"Camp? I don't want to do a camp this year," Jason had said. "I've tried so many. Can't I just take a year off?"

"No," his dad said. "Getting out and meeting new kids and trying new things is good for you."

"But, there isn't anything new. I've been to baseball, basketball, and football camps. I've been to computer camp. Church camp. Cub Scout camp. Reading camp. Science camp. Give me a break. Please. I hate camps!"

"I'll tell you what," his dad had said. “This will be the last summer camp you have to go to. It’s totally your choice. Anything you want. One more try. And then this will be the last one Mom and I will pressure you about. How’s that?"

"Promise?" Jason said.

"Promise," his mom and dad said.

"Okay. Let me see the list. And, I'm going to search more on Google, too. But this is the last one." 

Jason scoured the camp catalog and Google. Nothing interested him until he finally saw this: 

"Coach Howard Hills Beginners Volleyball Summer Day Camp - 

12 to 14 Years Old - 6 Weeks - Day Sessions Only"

Jason hadn’t heard of it. That’s a good thing, he’d thought. He didn't know anyone who played volleyball. Also good. He didn’t think the word “volleyball” had ever been uttered in his house. Extra bonus good. And, it said, “Beginners.” Perfect.

Jason’s heart was racing in a good way. No one will know me, he thought. No one will know I’ve failed at every sport I’ve tried. My parents don’t know anything about volleyball so less pressure from them. No one will care if I do well or not. Excellent choice.

Coach Hills Volleyball Summer Camp

When Jason’s mom had picked him up after the first day of Volleyball Camp, she’d said, “I’m so excited for you. Did you have fun? How were the kids? What about the coaches? What did you learn? Tell me everything."

"It was okay," Jason said. He thought, though, that it was slightly better than okay. But, he didn't want to get his mom thinking he liked it.

"Tell me about it." 

“Ummm...the coach - Coach Hills - is tall and skinny and old. He has a scraggly white beard and almost no hair. We have to call him Coach, or Coach Hills, or Sir."

Jason's mom waited.

Finally, she said, “Is that it? That's all you're going to tell me? Come on." 

"Ahh...I don’t know...um...I was the worst one,” Jason said while looking down at his hands keeping expectations low. 

It took Jason a few days at volleyball camp to start thinking he wasn't honestly the worst one. Not the best. Or even close to one of the best. He knew that.

But, he surprised himself and was even starting to relax and have a little fun.

He’d liked that Coach Hills never belittled, berated, or embarrassed him. Or said “try harder,” “concentrate,” or “focus.” He’d been told that forever. But no one had ever told, showed, or taught him how.

The six-week volleyball camp went by pretty fast. Jason liked Coach Hills. And made friends with the other kids at Camp. No one got mad when he messed up. No one was disappointed if he wound up on their team for drills or scrimmages.

And, to top it off, Jason knew he was getting a little better. I’m not the best, he thought. But I’m not the worst, either. For a change.

He smiled at the thought.

He even put some real effort into practice once in a while. 

Towards the end of camp, when Coach Hills had announced that he was inviting all the parents to come for the final intra-team scrimmage, Jason's stomach had started churning. His hands had started sweating. His mind had started racing out of control. 

Summer Camp - Final Scrimmage

Before Coach Hills let the parents in on the last day of camp, he huddled the team together. 

“I just want you to know you’ve been great. All of you. Regardless of your current level, each one of you has improved a lot over the last six weeks. You all have some natural athletic abilities or you couldn't have gotten this far."

Huh? Jason thought. Natural athletic abilities? No. I don't think so. Not me. 

"And so, if you like volleyball," Coach said, "you get to choose if you want to keep playing and keep improving or not. You’ve got the fundamentals now. So if you want to get good, all you have to do is keep learning and practice your ass off..."

Everyone laughed. 

Coach Hills went on, “...or not...and, excuse my language.” Then in a whisper, “...and, for gosh sakes, don't tell your parents I said ‘ass.’”

The kids cracked up again. So did Coach Hills. 

“Let’s put on a great show for your parents!”

After the scrimmage, Jason's mom raced up to him and engulfed him in a hug. "Honey, you were great," she said.

Jason’s face caught fire. He glanced around hoping no one was watching.

“Thanks, Mom," he said while attempting to escape.

Jason’s dad stuck out his hand for a formal handshake. "Put ‘er there," he said, "and, congratulations on finishing Camp. Well done. Although I have to admit I don't really understand this whole volleyball thing. It’s cute, but not much of a real sport.”  

Jason's eyes were on the floorboards. He quickly shook hands with his dad. "Thanks, Dad," he said.

"Okay," his dad said, turning away. "Let's get out of here." 

“Hold on everyone,” Coach Hills said. He blew his whistle over the hubbub. 

“If you don't mind, could Michael G, Cynthia, Jason, and Gilbert stay behind with your parents? I'd like a private word with each of you. Thanks, everyone. Great camp!"

This will be bad, Jason thought. Real bad. 

Summer Camp - The Spark - The Faith

Jason, his parents, and Coach Hills sat in a circle on metal folding chairs in a corner of the gym.

Jason girded himself for massive embarrassment.

“Jason’s a great kid. I loved having him in Camp,” Coach said. “As to how he played…”

Jason shut his eyes fighting back tears.

“...how shall I say this? He was improving."

What? Jason's eyes popped open. What's that even mean? Improving?

“Most of the kids came to camp and had played volleyball before. Not Jason. Most of the kids had played other sports competitively since they were, what, 6 or 7, I guess. Not Jason."

"Well," Mr. Tripp said, "he wasn’t ever too interested in sports. He tried them all. Football, basketball, soccer, and baseball. He never got into any of them. I don't think he's very athletically inclined. He gets great grades, though. All A's, right across the board."

"I think,” Coach said, "that Jason has more athletic talent than he lets on. Or that he even knows he has. I’ve been coaching youth, high school, and college volleyball for decades. And, I'm really good at evaluating the kids. Not judging them. I'm not in the judging business. I'm in the evaluation business.

"Jason definitely has a spark. It’s in there waiting to catch fire. I have total faith in that.”

A spark? Faith? What’s he mean by that, Jason wondered.

"Jason, do you feel that? Do you believe it?" Coach said.

Jason opened his eyes. He looked at Coach Hills. “Ahh...no Sir," he said. "I don't...ahh...um….really know what you mean."

"I understand, Jason. Someday I hope you’ll get what I'm saying.

"You were the most improved player in the gym this summer. Do you know that?"

"Huh? No sir. I don’t feel like I was...well...ahh...that good at all. Not compared to Michael or Gilbert or Cynthia. Or the others. Really. Not that good at all. Not even close."

"Trust me, Jason,” Coach said. “All the kids you named and most of the others, too, started with a lot more sports experience. You were the most beginner of the beginners if that makes sense. And, I’m not saying you were the best player. I’m saying, ‘most improved.’ You made the most progress from where you started.”

At least, Jason thought, Mom and Dad are being quiet for once.

"The bottom line is," Coach said, "I’d love to see you ignite that spark before it’s gone. So I'm going to suggest something and you’ll probably think I’m a bit crazy.

"I'm going to call and email a few volleyball club coaches in the area. I'm going to tell them that I think you deserve a tryout, Jason."

"Coach!" Jason said. “No way! I know about volleyball clubs. The kids were talking about them. Those clubs have tryouts so they can pick the best players. That’s not me."

"Yep. Everyone calls the clubs ‘elite.’ Which is exactly why I want you to go to a tryout or two. I'm not saying you're going to make a team. In fact, I'd be shocked if you did. Not for now anyway. But can you guess what I am hoping for?” 

"Umm….no. Not really. Maybe that I’ll get totally humiliated and embarrassed?”

"Come on, Jason, you know me better than that. No. I want you to have the experience. To be on the same floor. To be across the net from some of the very best players in Orange County. To experience, first hand, how good you might be someday if you’d ever really want to be."

"No way. Sorry, Coach. No way."

"It's up to you, Jason. Based on my decades of coaching, I believe it would be a great learning experience for you.”

"I don't know, Coach. I don’t think I can do that. I’d be too nervous. I’d blow it. I'm not good enough."

"It doesn't matter," Jason. "What you think doesn't even matter. You don't have enough experience to know how good or how bad you are or how good you could be. It’s why I want you to at least give it a shot. You have nothing to lose. I have a lot of faith in you. I believe you have more talent and skill than you know. And, I hope it doesn’t go to waste.” 

"I don't get any of this,” Jason's dad said. "You want him to try out even though you know he’ll fail. And he’s going to go in knowing he’ll fail, too. Failing doesn’t work for me. It doesn’t make any sense. We’ll have to think about this."

"Please do,” Coach Hills said, “for Jason's sake." 

Tryout Day - Beach Bay Bombers

A few weeks later, Jason's heart and temples were pounding and he was fighting back tears when his alarm went off.  It was tryout day. 

He nearly fell over trying to get up. He sat back down on the bed trembling.  

Jason’s mom bounded in. "Big day," she said.

"I don't think I can go," Jason said. "I don't feel good."

"You'll be okay," his mom said. "I know you're nervous. But like coach Hills said, you have nothing to lose or prove. It's an experience. That’s all. And your dad and I are proud of you for doing it. No matter what."

“You shouldn’t be proud of me. You know I'm doing this against my will, right? I hate that you're putting all this pressure on me. I don't want to try out. I'm not any good at sports. I never have been. I never will be. Don’t you get that? I hate it!"

"I know that's how you feel now. And we've all agreed you'll never have to do this again. So come on. Get dressed. I'll make you some breakfast and drive you to the gym. Then you can get this over with once and for all."

Once in the gym, Jason had been assigned to Court 7. He’d lumbered over as slow as he could go. Head hanging. He could barely move his feet. Remnants of tears blurred his vision.

A man with a clipboard came up to him. "Hi. I'm Coach Wilson. Who are you?"

“Jason Tripp."

"Welcome, Tripp. I see Coach Hills recommended you. That’s great. He’s the best. Grab the next guy that comes in and start warming up with him."

Jason recognized the warmup routine. Partners facing each other cooperatively bumping, digging, passing, and hitting back and forth. It was the first thing he’d learned at Coach Hills’ Summer Camp.

After warmups, Coach Wilson gathered everyone in a big huddle. 

"Welcome to tryouts for the 14U Beach Bay Bombers. We’re the reigning number one club team in the nation. We’re looking for the best. We're going to run you through a lot of different drills today so we can get a good look at each of you in action. Let's go. Half of you stay here and half hustle over to the other side of the net.”

The tryout started. Jason was unsteady. He couldn't do anything right. He was using all his energy to keep from sobbing.

But, after ten minutes or so, he noticed that although there were a few of the boys who were amazing - way better than Jason had ever seen before - there were also a few that seemed nearly as bad as him.

At some point, Jason’s breathing got easier. He moved better, too. 

And, before he knew it, the two-hour tryout was over. 

Phew! I survived, he thought. And, I never have to do that again!

When Jason got in the car, his mom said, “How’d it go? How’d you do?"

"Like I told you, Mom," Jason said. "All those guys are way better than me." 

And, that’s almost true, he thought. I don’t want to get her hopes up. Or mine... 

"Okay," she said. "Coach Hills pretty much said that. But how did you do?”

"Not great," Jason said. That was the truth. 

“I was embarrassed and I really don't want to talk about it. Can we please just listen to some music?" He turned up the volume on his favorite station.

Tryouts - South Side Knights - Triple Dog Dare

The next morning, Becca Anderson called Jason's mom. Becca’s son, Taylor, had been at the Bombers tryout, too. The moms had met and chatted in the parking lot. Parents weren’t allowed in the gym during tryouts. 

"Taylor got a callback to the Bombers. That means he didn't make the team so far, but, he gets another tryout. It's a 'maybe.'"

"That's great, Becca. Congratulations. We haven't heard anything. According to Coach Hills, silence means ‘no.’"

"Okay. But listen," Becca said. “There’s another team, The South Side Knights. They're having a tryout this afternoon. They're not as good as the Bombers. At least not as popular or well-known. Taylor is going to go to that tryout today just in case. You ought to take Jason. Nothing to lose. Right?"

“Coach Hills mentioned them,” Jason’s mom said. “I think Jason could get into the tryout. But I have no idea how I could get him to go. He’s discouraged. He said he hated it and he’s horrible at it. He’s embarrassed he’s so bad. And, we promised him that was the last sporting thing we’d pressure him to try."

"Well, tell him Taylor's going. They met yesterday. Taylor said he liked Jason. And, he thought Jason was pretty good. Or, in his words, ‘not bad.’ Especially considering he'd only started playing a couple of months ago. Taylor’s been playing seriously for four years.”

"What?" Jason's mom said. "Taylor said Jason was pretty good? Really?”

"Yep. Well…‘not bad.’ Worth a shot, I’d say. Hope to see you in the parking lot."

"Thanks, Becca. I doubt I’ll see you. But good luck to Taylor." 

Later that day, after an hour of verbal warfare, Jason's mom had finally won saying, "Jason. You saw how proud your dad was that you at least went to that tryout yesterday. At least you tried. It will be easier this time since you’ve already done it once. And, this is it. The last time. Plus,” she paused until she had his full attention, looked him in the eye, smiled, and said, “I triple dog dare you.” They both grinned at the reference to their mutually favorite movie. 

“One last try. Please? Not for you or your dad. For me...your poor old mom. Please? And, Taylor’ll be there, too."

Why, he thought, is this so important to them? If I don't care, why do they care so much? I don't get it. But, at least it can't be any worse than yesterday. And Taylor will be there. He seemed like a pretty OK guy. At least it should get Mom and Dad off my back about sports forever.

Becoming A Knight

The next morning, while Jason was eating his breakfast and playing Minecraft, his mom came flying down the stairs.

"You made it, Jason," she shouted. “You’re a Knight!”

She jumped up on the couch and spilled his cereal over when she grabbed and hugged him. You did it. I already told Dad. We’re so proud of you."

"What? That's impossible. I'm not good enough for that team. I was one of the worst guys. Maybe the worst. There's something wrong...it’s a mistake..." 

Not just a mistake, he thought.  A disaster. I knew I shouldn't have tried out again. I knew I shouldn't have tried that hard yesterday. 

But, it was kind of fun, he thought.  Even though I totally suck.  I bet a million dollars I was the last one picked. As usual.

Knights’ Practice

On the first day of practice, Jason checked in, got his practice jersey, and spotted Taylor. He plodded over. 

"Hey, Jason," Taylor said. 

"Hey, Taylor," Jason said, his eyes on the floorboards.

“Congrats,” Taylor said. “Looks like we’re teammates.”

"Yup." Jason still didn't look up.

After warmups, the whole team - 13 boys - sat down in metal chairs along the sideline.

"For those of you who don't know me, I'm Coach Mike Delaney. I haven't met all of you yet. But, I watched each of you at the tryout last week.

"You're not here by accident. A few of you have great natural talent and have been well-coached already. A few of you aren't yet showing the talent that I see in you. And clearly haven’t had much experience or coaching yet. Most of you fall somewhere in between.

"Those are facts. Don't take them personally. It doesn’t matter which category you're in or think you're in. It is what it is. There's a reason you're here. Even if you don't know the reason or see it or feel it yet. Rest assured, there's a reason.

"Okay. Enough talking. Let's go to work. Coach Dawson here will divide you up for drills..."

A reason? What reason, Jason wondered, could they have to pick me?  

But, with no time to think, he jumped up and sprinted to the opposite side. His first club volleyball practice had started. 

For the next three months of practices, scrimmages, local games, and tournaments, Jason improved. He knew it. He didn’t want to admit he was a little proud of it, though.

His teammates had also improved. So Jason was still one of the worst on the team. Just like summer camp, he thought. I’m just not athletic like the other guys. I’m starting to wish I was. I wish I could play like them. I think I might like to be good at volleyball. Or something...anything, for that matter. Oh, well. 

Coach Delaney had made Jason an outside hitter. Jason knew he was the worst hitter on the team. Probably, he thought, the worst player on the team. 

He practiced on the scrub team. He only got in games when Coach Delaney needed to talk to the regulars. And, even when he was in, Jason never got a set or hit. Fine with me, he thought. No chance to mess up is just fine with me.

Even though Jason never expected to play, he still got the shakes and an upset stomach before every game. Why, he wondered?

The National Championships

“Hey, Jason,” Taylor said. “Did you hear about McCarthy?”

Taylor and Jason were sharing a room at the Kansas City Marriott Hotel by the Civic Center where the National Championships were being played..

“No,” Jason said. “Sean?”

“Yeah. I heard he got food poisoning. They had to take him to the hospital. There was a stretcher, ambulance, everything.”

Jason’s stress level ramped up immediately. 

“He’ll be OK for the game tomorrow, though, right?” Jason said, barely getting the words out.

“I don’t know,” Taylor said. “Coach doesn’t think so. I don’t know what he’ll do. Maybe move Neal over to the left side and make Ronnie the opposite? I don’t know. If one of them needs a break or something, you might get in.”

“Oh, no,” Jason said. “No chance Coach’ll put me in. Not in the final. I’m not good enough and he knows it. He barely put me in the local games.” 

“You know, Jason,” Taylor said, “you’re better than you think you are.”

“No. That’s BS. Don’t butter me up.”

“No, really. I told my mom you were pretty good after that first tryout with the Bombers. You just don’t have the experience most of the guys do.”

“Or any athletic talent,” Jason said. “I’ve known that since I was six.”

“Didn’t you tell me the first time you ever touched a volleyball was in that little summer camp program you were in?” 

“Yep.”

“What was it, a grand total of six weeks? That’s nothing. The fact that you made this team after only six weeks of playing volleyball is amazing. It’s really something.”

“Thanks. But I can never be as good as you guys.”

“Not true,” Taylor said. “You can play. Look, I’ll admit you weren’t so great at first. But, you can already hold your own in practice. You’re a lot better now. It’s just that you’re playing behind some incredibly great - experienced - hitters. And, it’s experience that gives you confidence.”

“I don’t know,” Jason said. “I just hope Sean will be OK for the game tomorrow. That’s all.”

Jason’s mind was running wild all night. He was making up scenarios that ended in catastrophe. Loads of different ways he’d get in, blow it, and humiliate himself. How he’d let Coach Delaney and the team down. How’d he embarrass his mom and dad...and himself.

National Championships - Breakfast

Sean wasn’t at team breakfast the next morning. 

“Attention, Knights,” Coach Delaney said as he stood up. One of the assistant coaches clinked a water glass with his knife. 

“Sean suffered a bad case of food poisoning last night. The docs say he can’t play today. 

“As you know, we’re playing the Bombers in the Championship game. And we’re a key man short. Nothing we can do about it. This, gentlemen, is volleyball. It’s sports. It’s life. You never know what’s coming at you next. 

“The key is how you react. Here’s how we’re going to react today. Everyone from the first string to the end of the bench is going to step up today. We’re a team. We’ve always been a team. We’ll always be a team. This team didn’t come this far because of one individual. So everyone get ready to step up.”

Coach Delaney paused while his team cheered and chanted, “Go, Knights! Go, Knights.” 

“Okay. Quiet down,” Coach Delaney said. “My job today is to make some adjustments to the lineup and the rotations. Yours is to give it your all. And, let’s dedicate this one to Sean.”

Everyone whooped and raised their glasses in a toast to Sean and the team. 

Except Jason. 

Jason stared at his lap. He was trying to catch his breath and quiet his racing heart. Step up? Disaster, he thought.

National Championships - Warmups

As the Championship Game warmup was starting, Taylor said, “Hey, Jason. You looked like death warmed over at breakfast. And, not so hot now. Are you OK? Got food poisoning, too?” He smiled.

“No. I’m petrified that since Sean’s out I might get put in the game. And, that I’d screw things up. As usual.”

“Ever hear of positive thinking?” Taylor said.

“Yeah. My dad preached it to me from the time I was six. It doesn’t work. Besides, I’ve been doing positive thinking since we got here. I positively, positively, positively do not want Coach to put me in the game.”

“OK. Come on. Don’t worry about it. If worse comes to worst, I’ve got your back, buddy. I doubt Coach will put you in, anyway. Look at the new rotations he’s set up. You should be safe. Come on. Let’s get warmed up.”

National Championships - Games 1 & 2

Even without Sean, the Knights played a great first game. They lost in overtime, 28-30. Just a couple of more points, Jason thought, and I’d be a step closer to getting out of here safely.

He didn’t want to root against the Knights. But, he was secretly hoping the Bombers would win the second game and it would all be over. He’d escape without humiliation. 

The second game was a carbon copy of the first. Except the Knights eked it out in regulation, 25-23. 

Shoot! It’s down to a final game, Jason thought. Now there’s still a chance I might have to play. Geez. 

Jason’s silent, secret mantra was “don’t put me in, don’t put me in, please, please, please, don’t put me in.” 

The Championships - Game 3

Jason was breathing easier when the Knights went up 12-10 in the third and final set. I'm glad third sets only go to 15 points - win by 2, he thought. So now we only need three more points to win the whole thing. Whew!

But, the Bombers were hanging on. Before Jason knew it, the score was 14-13, Knights. 

Jason was finally breathing more normally. Just one more point, he thought. 

The Bombers server hit a bullet into the Knights’ backcourt. Taylor, the Knights libero, returned - a good bump up to Andy Hernandez, the setter. 

Andy lifted up a soft, perfect set to Robert Jakes. Robert was Sean’s backup. He’d played a stellar game at outside hitter.  Robert leaped as high as he ever had and slammed a kill shot as hard as he could for the win. 

It was a great shot, too. 

But, it was blocked cleanly by the Bombers for a Bomber point. Score tied: Knights 14 - Bombers 14.

And, Robert had let out a scream when he came down hard on his right ankle. 

“Time out,” Coach Delaney shouted. 

No one was sure if Robert’s ankle was strained, sprained, or broken. It had swelled up quickly. He was in a lot of pain. He was coming out. 

Coach won’t put me in, he won’t put me in, he won’t put me in, Jason recited...chanted...hoped...prayed. 

National Championships - The Sub

The team was huddled around Coach Delaney. 

“Tripp, you’re going in. Subbing for Robert. Outside hitter. 

“I know you don’t feel like you’re good enough. And, since you haven't played much, I don’t want to put you in a bad spot. So, we’ll take care of you. We’ll keep the sets on the right side. But, be ready for anything. Be alert. Head up. On your toes. Always ready.” 

“And, Andy,” he looked at the setter, “make sure to put all the sets to Charlie in the middle or to Neal over on the right side. Got it?”

Andy nodded. 

“Tripp," Coach was shaking Jason's shoulders. "Did you hear me? Whatever’s going on that head of yours, shake it off. Get it in the game. It’s time to step up." 

Jason nodded. 

Memories of the football fiasco with his dad, the neighborhood pick-up games where he was always the last one picked, all the summer camps including Coach Hills’ Volleyball Camp, and the volleyball tryouts and practices were all racing through his head.

“Yes, sir," Jason finally said. "I’m going in...but I won't get the ball."

"Right. And, if it does come your way, just bump or pass it over to Andy. Got it? Andy, the setter."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. Get in there. I have faith in you, Jason."

Faith, Jason thought. That’s an odd thing to say considering I’m not even supposed to get a ball. Faith to do what? Stay out of the way of the real players? Fine with me. At least I can do that.

Jason couldn't catch his breath, stop trembling, or quiet his mind. He ran out on the court automatically. He lined up...in the wrong position.

"Tripp!" he heard Coach shouting from the sideline. But he was too frozen to turn his head and look over there. 

"Jason," he heard. "Jason, look at me. It's Taylor."

Jason's eyes focused. Taylor was standing right in front of him. He grabbed Jason by the front of his jersey and physically pulled him into the right spot.

Taylor said, "Come on, buddy. Calm down. I told you I’ve got your back. And, you’ve got this. Just a couple of points to play. You’ve got it. I know you do. I have faith in you."

Faith in me? Really? I wish I had faith in me, he thought.

And, then, before he knew it, the whistle blew.  

Game on.

Jason still hadn't caught his breath. He was gasping. He was dizzy. Light-headed. Weak kneed. Shaking.

The Championships - Championship Point

In the recesses of his mind, Jason knew it was 14 all. Two points either way and he’d be safe.

It was the Bombers' serve after they'd blocked Robert’s shot. 

Jason realized he’d been holding his breath. He tried to gulp in some air. He was still light-headed. 

The Bombers server bounced the ball five or six times, looked up, tossed the ball, and took a hard swing at it. It was rocketing right for Jason. 

Jason hesitated. Then he instinctively tried to get down into his best receiving position. He wasn’t quite there when the ball barely caught the top of the net. It slid back down on the Bombers’ side. 

Whew, Jason said to himself. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 

The scoreboard said, Knights 15 - Bombers 14.

One play left if we can win the point, Jason thought. Our serve. Hit an ace and I’m home free. Please, please, please serve an ace!

The serve wasn’t an ace. But, it was good and deep in the back corner. 

Jason, a little more aware now, saw a Bomber defender bump up a perfect pass to their setter. The setter put up a great set on Jason’s side of the court. Jason and the Knight’s middle blocker, Charlie Sorrento, both went up for a tandem block. The Bombers’ hitter sensed it, faked a big spike, and dinked the ball over to the opposite side of the Knights’ court. 

Neal Jones, the Knights’ opposite hitter was caught off guard. The ball ended up behind him. He had to turn completely around and dive to save it. Luckily, he scooped it up - from only a couple of inches off the floor - good and high. It wasn’t in an ideal location, but Andy had hustled over in just enough time to get under it. 

Andy was one of the best players on the Knights team. He was smart and experienced. He knew Neal wasn’t going to get off the floor and turn around in time to make a play. So setting right wasn’t an option. 

Plus, Andy wasn’t sure where Charlie, the middle blocker, was. 

So Andy’s only choices were to bump it over to the Bombers himself or set it left...for Jason. 

Andy knew he was in a horrible position to make a good deep shot to the Bombers. And so, as a last, desperate play, he put up a blind, no-look, backset, behind his head on Jason’s side. He didn’t see Jason at all and was only hoping he’d be over there somewhere. The set went up soft and sweet…

The Championships - The Last Shot

Jason gasped. He felt like his eyes were popping out of his head. And, he felt like his head was about to explode. What's going on, he wondered. I'm not supposed to get the ball at all. 

And yet, without thought or conscious effort, his instincts and training took over. Everything he’d learned from Coach Hills and practiced with the Knights for three months clicked in. 

Jason started seeing the game in slow motion. The ball floated up by the net. He didn’t feel rushed, tense, or nervous. Or like crying. Or anything at all, really. He was simply reacting. Jason was playing volleyball.

He automatically took his small, quick positioning steps. Then the giant step with his right leg. He brought the left up next while swinging both arms up together. He leaped, perfectly timing it to make his hit while he was still going up.   

Jason was flying. Soaring. Above the net. Like never before. 

He unconsciously torqued and loaded up his shoulders like he’d been taught. He cocked his arm back like Coach Hills and Coach Delany had made him do a thousand times. 

Two Bombers blockers came up in unison. Jason was completely focused on the ball. He felt the blockers more than saw them. He made a slight adjustment.  

Jason released years of pent-up frustration, anxiety, guilt, repressed anger, and unfulfilled hopes, dreams, and wishes with one monster rip at the volleyball.

He swung at it without thought, hesitation, or fear. He pounded it harder than he ever had before. Harder than he’d ever imagined he could. Jason slammed down the kill shot of the match. It screamed between the two blockers before they could react. It was out of reach of all defenders. 

When his spike smashed on the floor, it sounded like an exploding bomb. The volleyball bounced so high it rocketed to the next court before coming down. 

And then, Jason landed softly. Gently. Gracefully. Athletically. 

The next thing Jason knew, the whole team was jumping all over him. High fiving him. Knocking him to the floor. Piling on. 

He heard fans screaming, "Tripp! Tripp! Tripp!” 

Jason only vaguely remembered his spike.  

When Jason finally got out of the dogpile, he saw his mom and dad pushing through the crowd. They were cheering, clapping, and jumping up and down. His dad was whistling wildly. Jason heard his dad’s whistle above all the other noise. 

“Jason,” his mom screamed over the general pandemonium as she wrapped her arms around him. “That was amazing. You were great!” 

Jason’s dad joined in and made it a group hug. A family hug. 

“Wow!” his dad said. “I’m so proud of you. I had no idea you could do anything like that. Fantastic!” 

“That was...I don’t know...so fun...so awesome,” Jason said. “I had no idea I could do that either. I barely remember it. It was like something possessed me and made me do it. Like in a dream.”

“Whatever it was, son,” his dad said, “I’m proud of you. You single-handedly won the Championship for your team.”

“Well, not really. I only made one shot. The rest of the guys did the real work. But, at least I didn’t single-handedly lose the Championship for my team.”

The Championships - Faith

When things had settled down after the awards ceremony, Jason said, “Mom...Dad...I just want to thank you for pushing me into this. This is the greatest thing in my life. And, I wouldn’t have had this chance at all if it weren’t for you guys driving and pressuring me...not giving up on me to at least try. Even when I was acting like a complete brat and pain in the you know what. I’m so sorry for all the trouble I caused. So...well...just thanks. I love you guys.”

Coach Delany came over. “See, Tripp,” he said, “I told you I had faith in you. I didn’t honestly envision what I just witnessed. But after watching your improvement over the last few months, I’m not completely surprised, either. I knew you had something special in you. So did Coach Hills. He called it your ‘spark.’ I’m so happy you lit it up. I’m proud of you, Jason. I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

Most of the team circled around to congratulate Jason and razz him some, too.

“See. I freaking told you so, Jason,” Taylor said. “Faith. I knew it all along. I’m glad you finally figured it out. Just in the nick of time, too.” They laughed together and hugged.

Jason’s mom’s phone rang. “Oh, hi,” she said. “Sure. Just a second. It’s still kind of loud in here. I’ll put him on. Jason...it’s for you.”

“Hello?” Jason said.

“Jason. This is Coach Hills. I was watching your game on my computer. Livestream, you know. It's so great. I love this new technology.”

“Oh. Hi Coach. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. And I’m sure you’re busy. I just have a question.”

“OK, Coach. What?”

“Now do you know why I said I had faith in you and do you see what I meant about the spark?”

“Yes, Sir, Coach. I do. And, I can’t thank you enough for everything you taught me at Camp. And for setting things up so I could try out for the Knights. I fought it and fought it and fought it, you know. I was so mad at you for telling my parents about tryouts. And then my parents kept pushing me. So I was mad at them, too. 

“Now, though, I really want to thank you. I can’t even say how much I appreciate you and all you did for me. For having faith in me. And for teaching me volleyball and putting me on this path. You’re the best, Coach. 

“Hey, if it’s OK, I’d like to come to see you after I get home.”

“You bet,” Coach Hills said.

“Or maybe I’ll get Mom to make a special dinner and you can come over and join us?”

“Even better. Congratulations, Jason. Keep that fire burning.”

“Yes, Sir, Coach. I will. I promise.”

Back Home - New Beginnings

Now the family watches volleyball together when they can find a game on TV. Jason’s been patiently explaining the sport to his mom and dad.

Jason’s having a blast playing volleyball for the Knights. He’s relaxed. He’s giving it an all-out effort. He’s playing like he really belongs. He’s been alternating with Sean in the local games. 

Jason’s also excited and eager for high school to start. He can’t wait to try out for the Freshman Volleyball Team.

Oh, and in pick-up games, Jason is never picked last anymore. Not ever. Not in any sport.

*****THE END*****