We Finally Found Mazzy's Sport at Age 11

I'm not sure why I didn't think of it sooner, since it was also my sport.

Back in September, Mazzy’s school announced that they were starting up their after school sports program again. There would be two options for the fall— soccer and volleyball. Mazzy’s interest in most after school activities has waned over the last few years (the pandemic didn’t help), so Mike and I really wanted her to do a sport. She’s never been part of a team before and it took the pandemic to make us realize that was a real missed opportunity.

When the day came to sign up (there were no try-outs), I overheard Mike trying to convince Mazzy to do soccer, telling her how he played all throughout his childhood, how it was such a great experience, how it would be good exercise, how it was obviously so nice to be outdoors, etc. etc. etc. Mazzy didn’t seem convinced. Then he said something like, “I guess I just feel a personal connection because soccer was my sport as a kid and volleyball doesn’t really seem like a—”

“HOLD UP. Do you know who played volleyball all throughout high school????”

Mike and Mazzy both realized I was in the room.

“ME.”

They stared at me blankly.

“Yes, it’s true. Not only did I play, I was one of three freshmen who made varsity! Did I ever tell you how I made the team???”

I had never played volleyball before (closest I got was newcomb in camp), but decided to go to try-outs because all my friends were going out for the team. We had just started high school a few weeks prior and I had no idea how seriously the school took their sports. Apparently, the girl’s volleyball team had made the state championships the year prior and try-outs were NO JOKE.

When we entered the gym, there must have been over 100 girls from all different grades lining up against the wall. Some of them looked over six feet tall. I got nervous that I made I mistake. After a short speech and the blow of a whistle, the coach split us up into groups and had us running around the room doing different drills— bumping, setting, and spiking; none of which I had done before. But there was so much activity going on, it felt like you could be terrible and not really anyone but the coaches would notice. I tried very hard to float under the radar.

After everyone was tired and sweaty, the coach instructed us to sit against the wall in one big line that stretched the perimeter of the gym. Then she had each girl go up to the net individually and serve in front of everyone. She had the seniors go first and I watched as each girl served overhand, something I had never even seen before. One by one, each girl tossed the ball up and slammed it down on the other side. Then the coach started cycling through the juniors, the sophomores and finally the freshmen. By this point, my palms were sweating and I was seriously considering sneaking out. I thought by the time we got to the newbies, they would be serving underhand, but nope. All overhand. Maybe it wasn’t actually that hard? Finally, it was my turn. I went up, threw the ball in the air and swung with all my might. I missed the ball completely. The coach let me try again and this time, I made the saddest bit of contact, the ball making an unsatisfying thud against the wrong part of my hand and then falling a few feet from where I stood. The coach yelled, “Next!” I was mortified. I walked back to my spot along the wall and sat down, making eye contact with absolutely no one.

At the end of the first day of try-outs, I was pretty certain I didn’t stand a chance. I think I was most upset at the prospect of my friends all making it without me and then not having them to hang out with after school. I couldn’t have that. So, before I left the gym, I asked the coach if I could take a volleyball home to practice. She said okay.

I remember that evening so clearly. I went out on my front lawn and served the ball over and over. I was alone with no net, so I just remember throwing the ball up and hitting it to the opposite end of my yard, running to get it and then hitting it back. I had no idea if I was hitting it high enough or far enough, but I found that after practicing a bit, it seemed like I was making really solid, powerful contact with the ball. After more practice, I was serving with the same strength pretty consistently. I thought, if I can serve it like this tomorrow, even if it hits the net or goes out, at least I won’t be embarrassed. I kept practicing until it got dark and my mom made me come inside.

The next day, I came back to try-outs, went through all the drills and waited for the serve line-up to happen again. Finally, it was my turn. I remember walking up to the net, thinking, just pretend you are in your front yard. Hit it like that. I threw the ball up and made contact. It was the most satisfying thwack and then I watched as the ball careened over the net on an angle, close but not touching, and then landed swiftly and strongly right at the back of the court on the opposite side. The coach threw me another volleyball. “Do it again.” I threw the ball up and duplicated the first serve exactly. She threw me another one. “Again.” I did it again. I continued to hit that same consistently strong serve all throughout that week of try-outs. The coach even used me to serve in drills to see who could return it from the other side. More often than not, I had what they called an “ace.” No one could even touch it.

I was one of three freshman who made varsity that year. From that point forward in my high school volleyball career, I was the girl with the killer serve. I couldn’t bump, set or spike to save my life, but I had a serve that could win whole games on its own. The coach used to start with me serving sometimes so we would run up our score from the get-go and freak the other team out. Or she’d put me in whenever we were down a few points. Then I’d ace a bunch to get our score back up, but as soon as I lost the serve, she’d take me back out. That was fine with me. I found playing with those 6 foot tall seniors terrifying. The whole time I was in play, I prayed the ball didn’t come near me. But I loved my serving moments. I won so many last points with my serve. The eruption of cheers was the best.

But, my favorite part of this story, and why I’m telling you this right now, is that it shows how much you can accomplish if you want it badly enough and just put in a little bit of prac—

“Mom. You’ve told me this story like 100 times.”

“Oh. I have?”

“Yes. I’m doing volleyball, okay?”

“Okay.”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t say anything else because I didn’t want to ruin it. But in my head, I was already purchasing the volleyball so I could teach Mazzy how to overhand serve in the yard.

Epilogue:

Mazzy joined the team and played all season. She loved it. The only sad part is that due to Covid, parents weren’t allowed to watch the games. I did see a 2 second video of them all screaming after a win, which looked very exciting. Fucking Covid. Mazzy loved being part of the team so much, she decided to sign up for an after school volleyball class that starts at the end of November.

We talked to her gym teacher about Mazzy’s interest in volleyball at parent teacher conferences a few weeks ago. She is also the coach of the team. She said that volleyball is a great sport for older kids to pick up, especially kids who haven’t been playing softball or soccer their whole lives. If you dedicate some time to learning the skills, you can get pretty decent at it quickly. Which makes sense, because I wasn’t a kid who was dedicated to a sport early on in my life either. In today’s world, there is so much focus on getting kids invested in something from a young age (and then really exceling, making the team and dedicating all your free time and weekends to it), I often feel like starting a sport or activity at 11 years-old is already too late. I hate that for my kids. It’s comforting to know that there are always new possibilities and opportunities as they get older.

I am fully aware that Mazzy could give up on volleyball within the year. But right now, one of her favorite things to do is go out in the yard to practice passing the ball back and forth with me. She’s got a really good bump that hurts her arms way less than it seems to hurt mine. (I feel like I’m going to walk away with bruises or a burst blood vessel every time.) But I am proud to say that I still have a pretty killer serve.

The first time I did it, Mazzy was so surprised. “I TOLD YOU!!!” I screamed.

“I know, Mom,” she rolled her eyes.

Then she showed me how she prefers to serve underhand.

For now.

If you are looking for holiday gifts, I highly recommend the Mommy Shorts 2021 Holiday Gift Guide which even includes a few volleyball themed suggestions in Mazzy’s wishlist!

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