Patricia Richardson
This article first appeared in the ATA News (March 23, 2010).
It’s clinch time. We’ve won the first volleyball game in the best of three series. If we win the next game, we’ll advance to the district finals. If we don’t, we go home.
Throughout the season, I’ve given all the Grade 8 players who’ve shown commitment to the team equal playing time. But this is the championship. Part of me wants to go for the win. After all, haven’t parents driven over an hour for this? Don’t I have a friendly rivalry with the other coach? Wouldn’t it be a feather in the school’s (and my) cap to claim this trophy? My other, much calmer, voice reasons that all 16 girls have practised equally hard and, besides, what’s the point of all those fairness posters in our school?
A shrill blast of the ref’s whistle signals the beginning of the match. I waver for a minute then signal the second squad, which has not played, to take the floor. Our more skilled players handle the ball effortlessly, digging up impossible balls and pushing them to empty holes on the other side of the net. Our less experienced players, often caught with deer-in-the-headlight expressions as the ball careens toward them, swing wildly in the vicinity of the ball but they make contact more often than they did at the beginning of the season. The setter, whose skilled hands many high school players would admire, aces seven serves in a row. She’s expected to perform well, and her talent is met with quiet looks of acknowledgement and gentle high-fives. But when a timid first-year player lunges awkwardly at the ball and sends it trickling back over the net, deafening cheers erupt.
The score is close, but in the end, we lose. The girls’ disappointment lasts approximately 15 seconds, as they are distracted by the bigger issue of where to eat. A grandmother snaps pictures of her granddaughter in her volleyball jersey by the net. A fellow coach and friend, who also has a rivalry with the other team’s coach, takes me aside and asks why I didn’t play to win.
I did, I say. I win at team effort and developing a sense of fair play. I win at skill development, as all players get a chance to work through their nerves and make mistakes. I win at overall school attendance, as some of those fringe students come to school more often when they’re part of a team. I win at teaching the meaning of commitment, as missed practices or lack of hustle are the only reasons playing time is reduced. When a parent tells me this is the first time her daughter has enjoyed sports, I know I’ve scored a victory. A bit embarrassed, I admit I’ve not always practised this philosophy. My family is so competitive we trash talk during Scrabble. Because I was always a regular starter in my own school sports days, it took watching my own 11-year-old son sit on the bench game after game and wondering why, after practising as hard as the other kids, he went to games and didn’t play to get me to understand the pain of not being allowed to play. My interpretation of winning needed to be revisited.
The time for being cut or benched will come soon enough in high school. For now, winning means having16 girls from different walks of life being able to say, “In Grade 8, I played on the school’s volleyball team.”
Patricia Richardson teaches at Dr. Swift Middle School, Northern Lights School Division, in Lac La Biche. She has taught for 18 years and coaches sports at both the school and community level.
