The Sound of Whistles

I was in Indianapolis this weekend with the girls volleyball team I have been helping coach this Spring.

We had a successful weekend!

We didn't win every game, but we did take 3rd place in the Open Division, which allowed us to qualify for Nationals in Reno, NV, this summer. All of this without our head coach, who was waiting patiently in Austin for the arrival of his baby girls.

Like I said... SUCCESS.

Growing up, I spent more weekends than I can count at these tournaments. Most of them in Omaha and Lincoln. Others: Denver, Minneapolis, Tampa, New Orleans, even Austin.

I still love the sound of whistles blowing and balls being played as I walk through a convention center. It brings back the pure joy that volleyball often brought me as a young girl.

Now, I don't consider myself a great coach.

I was a good player, but coaching is not my strong suit. Lineups, timeouts, strategy... these things do not come naturally to me. I like to teach the game, but that is not all that is required of a good coach.

I signed up this season to help pay my bills. Plain and simple. It has been a surprise to me, though, how much I have enjoyed the experience... and how much it has benefited me personally.

To reflect on my own experiences with this sport...
To remember who I was.
To be certain now of who I am.

What a gift it has turned out to be.