Flashback: Early 2018

I watched Miracle Season again tonight. I've seen it at least half a dozen times now, and it never fails to get me in my feels. So, time for another flashback.

I was going into my second season as the varsity head coach at Freedom High School in South Riding, Virginia. Coming off of a rough 2017 season, but with plenty of returners, it had been an intensive off-season for us starting in December. We were playing every weekend, using the weight room, and had a small group of young leaders working to shape our team culture - despite being eight months from the start of the next season.

In January, I lost a student from one of my classes to suicide. He was an incredible human who called himself Flamingo. Unfortunately, we had had to have a tough conversation less than 24 hours before the end and I was a mental wreck carrying a tremendous amount of guilt for something I didn't yet know was not my fault. The weekend after the funeral I asked one of the other coaches to cover for me at open gym. I just needed a mental health break.

On the way to practice - less than a mile between his home and the school - an unlicensed driver pulled out into an intersection ahead of the head freshmen coach and he and his motorcycle flipped over that minivan. He called to let me know he wasn't going to be able to cover and could I text the team so they wouldn't be waiting around? Later, I found out he had called from the ambulance with a collapsed lung, multiple broken ribs, a shattered wrist (horrifying, as he was also the tennis coach), and a variety of other injuries. Despite what he had said on the phone, he was not fine.

Since this is my flashback, I have to admit that as terrible as I felt about his injuries and the months of rehab he was going to have ahead of him to recover - if he could! - my narcissistic inner monologue spent a whole lot of time blaming myself for his accident instead of in gratitude for his survival. 

If only I had been able to hold it together better. If only I had never given Flamingo back that assignment and told him that I knew he was capable of more. If only I hadn't asked for help ... maybe, just maybe, one soul would be alive and another uninjured. 

Looking back, I can see this was a super dark place with a mountain of misplaced guilt.

As I worked through some of this in therapy, I took solace in the remaining open gyms (which I was not going to miss ever again). Getting to be with my girls, supporting them with their skills growth and hearing about their lives unfolding was my joy; a glimpse of salvation. I don't know if there has ever been another time in my decades of volleyball that I felt more connected to the game.

Despite hundreds of sports movies existing, there are almost no films about volleyball. The release of a real-life story of a state championship team seemed exactly the right choice for one of our off-season team building activities; which is how I found myself watching Miracle Season the first time sometime in early April when it released in theaters. With bits of my team and some parents grouped around me, I spent nearly every moment of the film after the death of a student-athlete (which happens in the first 20 minutes) trying to make sure no one could see me ugly crying.

The whole program (varsity, JV, & freshmen).

Reflecting on this moment, I see it as a turning point. I finally gave myself the thorough cry-it-out I needed (of course, in the moment, I just kept thinking about how much more therapy I clearly needed). After this, I saw the possibility of redemption from our dismal showing in 2017 - and subconsciously for myself as a coach and a human. I threw myself into all things preparation. I met with coaches who had won states. I read books on technique, leadership, and culture. I made plans to get the team to a team-building focused summer camp. Returning players showed up and showed out at all of the activity fairs and orientations to help the incoming freshmen see us for who we wanted to be moving forward.

The story of the fall 2018 season deserves its own post, but it was my miracle season. I had one of the greatest humans I've ever worked with as an assistant coach and a friend. Honestly, every single one of the coaches from that season were phenomenal and built the program into something that set the stage for an entirely new chapter of Freedom Volleyball. But each time I watch the movie, I mostly think about the team I had that season. Their passion. Their resilience. Their unfortunate habit of smacking each other on the thighs to try to leave handprints. It was a gift to bear witness to what they were able to accomplish together and it makes my soul happy to know that some of them are still friends and even teammates.

Maybe my favorite thing about this photo is knowing how tough it was to get them to all have serious faces simultaneously. Kudos to one of our team moms for helping them look "beastmode".

My first flashback post on this blog was about my abbreviated 2023 volleyball season. Six months later, I am still grateful to have had the experience and know that everything that has happened on this journey has only been possible because of the terrible way it ended last September. Tragedies making way for the start of new life seasons.

Living nomadically makes it challenging to get back on the sidelines. I miss the game. I miss the way a volleyball feels when you spin it in your hand. I miss the people and the connection to something so much greater than myself. Most of all, I miss the team: individuals supporting each other to make the whole greater than the sum of the parts. 

I hope I can get back there someday. In the meantime, thank you to all of the officials, coaches, and players who have made my volleyball career possible. Oh, and that tall German dude who stuck with me at midnight while I ran circles on the Horseshoe. My life is better for having all of you in it.

Keep coming back.