Vehr 1

Annie Vehr

Intermediate Composition

Professor Gary Vaughn

30 November 2016

Blocked by Adversity

The more you learn the more places youll go.-Dr. Seuss

When you are all grown up, what do you want to be? Where do you want to work? my

first grade teacher, Mrs. Fox, asked, surveying the entire class.

With a litany of jobs being recited, from doctor to astronaut, president to veterinarian, I

quietly sat in my seat waiting to give my response.

Well, I wont have to work because playing sports is not a job. I am going to be an

Olympic athlete. I am going to win the gold medal in volleyball, basketball, and maybe soccer, I

replied.

When I was told to dream, I dreamed big. Not only did I aspire to be a star athlete, I

worked for it. I attended camps and clinics throughout the city, challenged myself at practice, and

made sure that I finished every race on the playground in first place. I was competitive, not only

in the gym. I wanted to be the best student, sister, and friend. I strived to be number one. When I

was told the football team needed additional players, I inquired the prerequisites at my school. It

was grounded in me, through my parents and family, that anything less than my best was simply

not good enough. As Stephen King said, You can approachwith nervousness, excitement,

hopefulness, or even despair-the-senseYou can come to the act with your fists clenched and

your eyes narrowed, ready to kick ass and take down namesCome to it any way but lightly

(King 105). And so I learned, at a young age, the definition of hard work.
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By the time I had entered the sixth grade, I had given up hope of earning my desired three

gold medals, and decided to truly focus on winning in one sport: volleyball. I knew that I was

good, better even, than most of the other girls. Not only was I naturally athletic, but I was tall for

a sixth grade girl. Coming in at 56, there were not many young girls who could stretch their

arms nearly as far as I could. I understood that this was my biggest advantage. As a sixth grader,

I tried out for the volleyball team, with the understanding that my results were promised. I would

be an A Team player. As a sixth grader, I was cut from that very same team. My legs were

swept from beneath me and my tears began to fall as my mother gave the news. I became sad,

and then angry, and then all around miserable. And so I learned modesty.

From this moment on, volleyball was designated to be my highest literacy. I got over

myself and my incessant, tearful, woe-is-me conversations with my mom.

I put my legs back beneath me, resigned to do better, and said, Mom, I want to try out

for club volleyball.

I quickly signed up for any, and all, open club volleyball tryouts. After being scrutinized

and judged by many of the best coaches in the city, it was time to check the lists of who was

good enough, and sadly, who was not up to par. I begged my mom to check for me. How could I

stand being told twice that I was not good enough? My mom checked and informed me that I had

not made the team. As my face fell and my eyes swelled with tears, I saw her devious smile.

Admittedly, she pulled a dirty, little prank and she quickly recanted her story. I had made the top

team at the club where I aspired to play! I was ecstatic! I was elated! I was terrified! But, as a

twelve year-old, I had learned achievement.

I began practicing, twice a week, with a greater commitment to volleyball than I had

previously known. I made friends. I learned the skills, to hit and to pass, to block and to serve. I
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learned that terminology, such as bump, set, and spike, were absolutely unacceptable, and that

my language was required an adjustment if I expected to continue playing. I learned that braids

were the cool thing to do with your hair and that any volleyball player with a ribbon was not as

competitive and serious as a player lacking a voluptuous bow. But most importantly, I found that

I belonged somewhere with people who loved the sport as much as I did. I still aimed to be the

best, as I ran every tour of stairs throughout the arena in the front of the line and gave every

practice and every tournament all of my effort. And so, I learned that practice makes perfect, and

if you do not believe that, then you need to keep practicing.

By the time I began high school, I had been playing volleyball year-round, for three

years. Some may call it a sport, but others would refer to playing club and school volleyball as a

lifestyle. I learned to plan my days around practice, strategically doing my homework during car

rides, meals, and while completing menial chores. I can proudly champion my ability to brush

my teeth and study my notes, simultaneously. I was able to play, practice, and compete, while

maintaining a strong grade point average and steady involvement in a multitude of clubs and

organizations within my high school. And so I learned dedication of time, organization, and the

ability to multitask.

As a student-athlete, it is harped upon you, from every coach, director, and trainer, that,

Your junior year is your showcase year. As a student, your grades and involvement in the third

year of high school are examined thoroughly before admission into college is granted. As an

athlete, your performance, skills, and knowledge are reviewed, in depth, to yet again, decide

whether a young person is good enough. I finished my sophomore year the same way I began my

junior year: in the workout room. I strived to be stronger, faster, and more agile than any of my

competitors. I had lost my advantage of height, and unfortunately, there was nothing I could do
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about that. However, I could strengthen my body and improve my vertical, thus, showing my

commitment to being a top-tier athlete. I put all of these expectations on my shoulders, literally.

Very early in my third season of volleyball in high school, I dislocated my shoulder,

resulting in a torn labrum and bicep tendon. This deeply affected my capability to swing at a ball

as it was set to me, or to serve in the zones of the court given to me by my coach. As a player, I

was devastated. As a competitor, I knew this just meant that it was time for a change. I gained the

skill of seeing the court better and finding the open spots in the other teams defense. And so I

learned that strategy scores as many points as power.

After this injury, and all other adversities mentioned, I still loved the sport. However, this

injury, despite my extreme literacy in volleyball, led me to my decision to end my career on my

senior night of high school, meaning that I would not continue on and play in college. This was a

difficult decision to make, but using my literacy, I knew that strategy would not cut it in college.

I needed the power, as well. My senior year, I transferred positions and began playing libero,

which is a defensive specialist. I was not versed well in this spot on the court, but I learned

quickly. I still wanted to be the best. And so, through it all, I leaned adversity is not the end of

your endeavors. I learned to simply find a clever, new way to finish what was started.

As I began filling out college applications and my choices became broader without the

desire to play college volleyball, I was thrown into a tailspin when my Athletic Director, Mrs.

Schawe, called me into her office, Annie, Im looking to add another coach to the team for the

JV squad next year.

Yeah, I can ask around. I think my club coach was looking to get involved in high

school ball. Should I I said, until Mrs, Schawe interjected, but thank goodness she did.
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No, Annie, Ive talked to Ryan and were pretty set. Wed like you to help coach the JV

team next fall.

My mind was rushing in ten-million directions. I was just asked to coach a high school

volleyball team, while I was still in high school! This gave me one of the greatest opportunities: I

could stay involved in the sport I love, go to school, and use this as a resume booster on my

future applications, because it was a paid job. I was floored! I accepted the job immediately and

decided that the University of Cincinnati was where I wanted to attend. An so, come the first

week of conditioning, I learned how the other side works.

I started practice with the same mentality I had as a player: be competitive and be the

best, and it worked, but only when we were playing well. I realized that my competitive spirit

needed to be toned down in order to encourage the girls to play hard and that part of my job as a

coach was to be enthusiastic and to cheer for my team, as much as it was to teach the skills that I

learned. I had to learn to transfer my skills, technique, footwork, and ball control to ten different

girls and ten different playing stylestalk about a challenge! Some girls require aggressive

teaching: yelling and expecting more. Some players, usually the more reserved personalities,

prefer a gentler approach, such as one-on-one explanations of their wrongdoings. This was

difficult to master because I came to the conclusion that it was important to get to know my

players before I could effectively coach them. I learned to coach as I went, making mistakes

along the way, but developing my platforms, just as Malcolm X stumbled upon his intelligence,

which he declared by saying, I happened to stumble upon starting to acquire some kind of

homemade education (X 122).

My first season as a coach, we went undefeated in our league and placed second in the

tournament. I felt as if I gave them something useful, something that would help them succeed in
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their future endeavors. And so, through it all, I learned to take all I had gained as a player and

give it to others. I learned to coach.

While my straight path to the 2020 Tokyo Summer Olympic Games was derailed and sent

askew, I have used my literacy to find a new walkway. I believed that my literacy, ultimately the

on thing I understood better than I understood anything else, was volleyball. Playing or coaching,

I know the strategies, footwork, and technique, so well, in fact, that I do not even have to think

about it when I do it. It is natural. However, while volleyball is a literacy I possess, my truest

literacy is my ability and will to learn, and discovered through coaching, my ability to transfer

what I have gathered to others: the ability to teach.

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Works Cited

King, Stephen. What Writing Is. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. New York: Scribner,

2000. 103-107. Print.

X, Malcolm. Learning to Read. Writing about Writing: A College Reader. Elizabeth A. Wardle

and Doug Downs. 2nd Ed. Boston: Bedford/St.Martins, 2014. 120-126. Print.