Loud noise, sweat dripping down my face, the pressure builds as the team huddles together in a tight circle off the court. Yelling and shouting, screaming surrounds my ears as I try to collect my thoughts, strategy circling my head as I hear the whistling bringing myself back to the court, my home. I throw the ball up, emitting my strongest force to serve the ball over the net to my rivals, hoping that they will not return it. The number thirty two is plastered onto the back of my body, sweat accumulating as I watch the ball travel across the playing field.
Bam! My opponent returns it to my demise, my legs squatting and bending underneath me to hopefully bring the ball back up to the middle in order to let my team play another game, play another play, yell another word, and hear another whistle blow. The ball hits my arms with so much force, leaving my forearms stinging and red. “Go! Go! Go!” I am yelling at my teammates, frantically seeking her eyes for comfort to know that it will end up in her hands. It does. It sits perfectly in her set, and she pushes it forward to the outside for a potential kill. My vision focuses on the outside, as my ally begins her approach and jumps into the air, soaring like a falcon. Time stops. Her hand connects with the ball, slamming it down right behind the net with no remorse, no complications, no obstacles in her path.
My ears ring. The cheering is as loud as a train horn, bustling down the tracks at a phenomenal speed. My legs carry me to the center of my team as we consume the win that comes to us so quickly. Serotonin courses through my veins, my mouth curling into a smile as I embrace the court for the last time.