It is a common thing for me, early morning wake ups for volleyball games, tournaments, or practices. A nearly every weekend thing for all but a few months of the year, since I was 15. Wake up, get ready, go to the gym…repeat. First as a player, then as a coach, and then, my longest tenure, as a mom. Whistles blowing, balls bouncing, that ‘knee pad smell’, team nest area, ref, play, sit, ref, play, sit…all part of this routine, this life long relationship I have had with this sport.
This morning, the wave of sadness came over me as soon as I realized that last night was another end. I watched my daughter and her team make history by playing in the second round of the NCAA National Championships. They lost to #4 ranked Texas. Another season has ended.
As one can imagine, I have had many ‘ends’ in my 37 years in this sport. The end to great seasons, not so great seasons, players moving on or graduating, coaches I will miss and some I am glad to put in my rear view, me getting new players, my daughters getting new teammates which means I get to meet new families – the “ends” have taught me one thing after all of these years and that is that THIS team, with THESE coaches, with THESE players, with THESE families will never be again. When a season ends, good or bad, the season ends and that’s it.
I know most of the time, I am ready for the end. Frankly, after months of being with the same people, players, and coaches – the “ends” usually feel right. As a player and coach, I was usually ready to move on, a little burnt out on the same cast of characters, needing to add a new player for a particular position or maybe a certain parent making my life difficult ruined the positive aspects of a season. Sometimes, success was achieved and I knew I had taken my teams as far as I could. Being the first coach in Cincinnati to qualify Open at 16U, I had the ‘dream team’, but even that season, I was ready for it to end. My belly bulging with new life, when Nationals were over, I happily said goodbye, realizing the magic of that season would be hard to replicate, a bit sad of course, but looking forward to my next adventure as a first-time mom. My life always moving on but also always including volleyball in one way or another. A constant companion.
As a parent, I was always ready for the end. At the time, the upcoming seasons seeming infinite. I remember when all three of my daughters were playing club and I was coaching – the feeling that this affair with the sport of volleyball would never truly be finished, the years stretching in front of me, the end of the road not visible. It happens slowly, the middle daughter decides to play fast pitch softball instead of volleyball. A few years later, the oldest daughter decides her promising volleyball career is over – the anticipated club season, after her team finished 7th in Open the year before, ended before it even started. Choices they made. Choices I supported. Choices that, looking back, gave a finality to the end that I didn’t realize at the time. I think back to the endless road of volleyball stretched in front of me, the anticipating of the tournaments, the emails from the coaches, organizing hotels and team dinners, getting the team socks together when they were little, it all seemed endless. It all seemed like it would last forever.
And then there was one…the youngest daughter. When it was time for her to choose a sport to focus on out of the many she had tried, she chose volleyball. We often joke about her unfulfilled career as a soccer goalie. I guess I knew what her final sport of choice would be when the director of the soccer club told me she could be moved up to the top team and start as the goalie, but he needed her to be a “soccer only athlete” for this to happen. The reply from my then 13 year old told the story, “Do I have to go to ALL of the practices or can I just do goalie training?’ When I told her that, of course, she would have to do all the practices, she said ‘thanks, but no thanks.” She stayed on the second level team that season, and that was her last year of soccer. My volleyball player was born, ironically, thanks to a soccer coach forcing her to make a choice.
This morning’s wake up call, represented one of my last – not that Lainey’s career is ending now, but it is ending soon enough. I rounded the last bend and there it is, the dead end road of volleyball…it’s right there, I can see it. The unfamiliarity with this feeling of not being ready, weighing heavily on my heart and mind.
Finally....there... I
said it...I am not ready. All my bravado about always being good with the "ends" blown away by the rattling of my phone alarm on the night stand in Omaha.
I think all moms have seen the poem on social media about the ‘lasts’ that we do for our children as they grow up – the last diaper change, the last time we help with bath time, the last time we tie their shoes, the last time this and the last time that – a stark reminder to parents everywhere to take a moment, breathe, experience, and be present. I think I speak for moms everywhere when I say we didn’t, more than we did. Life so hurried all the time when our children are young. Organized chaos in the middle of school, activities, friends, doctor appointments...we are rushing from this event or that or, in my case, this practice or this tournament, to the next one – hotels, laundry, travel, repeat. What is ironic about that poem about last times, that we all know so well, is what I have learned over all these years-- as the “lasts” also came to an end - with the aging out of my kids – is that as life slows down and they need us less, the “lasts” make a more permanent mark on us.
- while I don’t remember the last time I tied her shoe, I do remember my last Clemson football game while my daughters were students there;
- last time I waved goodbye as they boarded the school bus – no recollection – last time all of us slept under the same roof, as a family, I can tell you the date (July 29, 2019, if anyone is wondering);
- last time I sent in lunch money for the cafeteria – no idea – last time I packed her lunch for a club tournament – I went so far as to commemorate that milestone with a social media post. The indelible mark of these “lasts”, a tattoo on my heart.
This morning, when the early alarm sounded, it was one of my first thoughts. Tightness in my throat as I got ready, packing the last few things into my suitcase. Lessons learned over these many years of “ends” and “lasts”...pay attention, it will all end before you know it. This end looming, the dead end literally right there, in my mind’s eye, I see it clearly now. I have learned to appreciate this sport, the ups and downs, the incredible wins and heartbreaking losses. The phone calls from her after a tough practice, the facetimes after the big wins. I can remember the matches. I can remember specific plays she has made, her athleticism amazing me every time I watch her. I am tattooing these things into my mind. I am an old mom now and I know things don’t last forever.
Whatever happens, I know I have at
least one more year (maybe two depending on her decision) with her playing and
me watching and us sharing this sport. I
know I have one more season and then I don’t know…what I am certain of is I will
savor everything this upcoming season throws my way, I will cheer every point,
I will answer every phone call, I will make the decision to feel the feelings,
smell the smells, see the sights…I will do it all because this “end” may also
be my “last” and I want to be ready.
