Obstacles To Recover From Failure

In high school, I was involved in volleyball, basketball, and softball. Throughout my whole venture, I had this one coach who followed me through every sport. Her name was Coach Lolly Arevalo. She was five feet tall, dark skinned, big green eyes, and a little muscular body, she had a masculine voice that terrified all the athletes every time she scolded us. “Do not stop till I blow this whistle,” those words motivated each and every one of us not to stop. The very first game I had my freshmen year in volleyball was a big, extraordinary moment in my life. When we walked into the gym that night to warm up before the other team arrived, butterflies began to flourish in my stomach as the excitement began to kick in. The bleachers were filled with people wearing red and white shirts, friends holding fan signs with your name, and family members who wanted to see you play the game you love. The excitement I was developing become even more known when the other team arrived. The girls looked as though they wanted to smash your face

I had spent most of my childhood happy, without much pain or adversity; as a result, the moment I learned I did not make the Junior Varsity volleyball team my freshman year, I was especially devastated. When I showed up on our first day of tryouts I was excited. I looked forward to playing volleyball all summer with my friends. I worked hard, and I felt really confident at the end of the two weeks; certain that I had made the Junior Varsity team. The coaches took me to a secluded room and sat me down to explain which team I had made. I was almost already thanking them, not realizing that they were telling me, "We think that your skills at the moment would shine best on JV2; work on your technique and practice being a leader.”

I was doing everything I could to make Rock Ridge’s volleyball team. I was working out almost every day, I went to every volleyball open gym, and I went to many clinics and camps. Making this team was very important to me, and I didn’t know what I would do if I didn’t. I’ve been working very hard to get a spot on the team. However, nothing could mentally prepare me for the three-day long try-out process.

I had always wanted to go and try out for the school volley ball team but i wasn't sure if i was going to make it or not. I made the first cut and then the second cut. At the last tryout i put all the effort i had into it, hoping that I could make the team. The final cut came and i was not on the list. I was devastated. This was very hard to take. I told my parents that i didn't make it and they said that they knew i tried my best and that there is always next year in high school. Sure enough they were right. Coming into grade 9, I made the volleyball team and have been playing ever since. I thought that i was panicking and it was over but it turns out that i was just choking and thanks to my parents they helped me out of that

Our school was never very good at sports and only about five girls would be cut. I was jittery the day that the varsity roster was to be posted; I wanted nothing more than to be part of the team. After classes ended, I walked to the athletic board, where the varsity roster would be posted. I anxiously scanned the list for my name. I scanned it again. As my eyes ran over the page a third time, my heart began to sink. I hadn’t made the team. I was one of five girls who were cut from the varsity team. In a daze, I went to practice. Instead of focusing like I usually did, I went through the motions. The five of us who made up the junior varsity team had a separate practice with the assistant coach. After the sting of failure finally faded, I began to work harder than before. I showed up early to practice and stayed late every day. Every weekend I spent at least two hours on the field practicing. I was determined to make the coaches regret putting me on the “JV” team. As the season ended, I didn’t stop working to become better. Any day that was not too cold, I could be found on the field. When spring came, I joined the soccer team, hoping to improve on my endurance and speed. Over the summer, I spent at least two hours every day running and practicing. When the field hockey season rolled back around, I was ready to show off my skills and make the varsity

Almost 20 years ago I had a conversation with my sister during one of her collegiate volleyball seasons. She was disappointed that her playing time had diminished. I asked her, “Would you rather be a star player on a losing team, or a contributor on a National Championship Team?” Let that question sink in for a minute.

It was late October, leaves were changing, and cold weather was rolling into the Ohio area. You could always tell whether or not your team had been having a successful fall season when you finish up your regular practice time, and as you are walking out of the gym the mens basketball team is lacing up after you. Our second round of the tournament we travelled out to the boonies of Ohio; Blanchester. An hour trip from our little town, we were determined to come out on top. We weren’t making this trip just for a loss, especially during homecoming week. My team played beautifully, executing a win. After this game, I received a phone call from Jim explaining that a local coach had heard of my recent accolades, seen me play, and was very impressed. Flattered, assuming he was just telling me a compliment, I grinned and told him a generous ‘thank you!’ Little did I know, this coach had played for Coach Condit at Miami University. She had told her about me and wanted me to call her. My heart jumped out of my chest; not only was this one of my top schools WITHOUT volleyball, but now with it was an opportunity of my dreams. A nervous and thrilled sensation struck me all at once. I knew in an instant that this was where I wanted to be, that my goal was within reach I just had to work harder than ever for

I had such a passion for the sport and had never stopped loving it. Even though it took a lot of work to get back into shape and a lot of work to get back the techniques, I was happy to push myself. I decided to try out for the team at my community college sophomore year. I was genuinely terrified but I reminded myself that this type of opportunity was one that I could not take for granted. I made the team, but that was only half the battle. I wanted to be better than I was before. I wanted to prove that I could make a comeback and I needed to do it for myself. There were so many practices I felt like giving up and tried to justify it by the fact I had missed so many years and it was hopeless. The season had its ups and downs, but I had never been so proud of myself. I played great and I gave it my all. I learned a lot about myself as I played the game and also off the court with my teammates. I played college volleyball after three years of not being able to be on the court. I learned that I was resilient and there was nothing that I could not do as long as I worked for

My last middle school volleyball game was over. Next season I would be moving to the junior varsity team, and I was far from looking forward to it. I thought I wanted to stay in middle school volleyball forever, but what I didn’t understand was that I was no longer learning or growing in the position I was in. I had soaked up every bit of knowledge from my coach and team, and now it was time to leave middle school behind.

Many moments from our youth may fade while other experiences remain vividly embedded in our memories. Perhaps because, like a cut to our skin, an open wound, it takes time to heal. At the start of my sophomore year I was cut from the high school volleyball team I worked so hard to be a part of. All my life I have trained to be the best athlete I could be. I joined volleyball at the age of seven with a goal of being on my high school volleyball team. During sophomore tryouts as the final minutes ticked by the coaches started to call individual people in their office one at a time for cuts and unfortunately I was called. The finality of the coach’s words, ‘you’re not on the team anymore’ filled the room as my world fell apart. The practices, the games, the knee pads, the uniform—was suddenly present but

As I became older, entering my young teenage years in life, I took on the interest of playing sports for my middle school. I remember trying out for the girl’s basketball team in the summer going into the eighth grade. I know I had competition but I felt highly confident from the skills I gained during the previous years. Try outs were all morning and I caused my parents so much trouble from telling them in such a short notice. I anxiously waited for the final results, even though they weren’t posted on the gym door until later that evening. Later on that day I learned that I didn’t make

I’ve never wanted anything as bad as I wanted this. I’ve never put this much effort into anything as I did this. I prepared myself for this one event that would be a big milestone for me. Seventh grade volleyball tryouts. Volleyball was a family sport and my first love. I wasn’t obsessed over the Jonas brothers or Hannah Montana; I was madly in love with the game of volleyball. How it had a physical strain as well as a mental strain. Volleyball isn’t thought of as a mental game, but there’s a lot of thought that goes into it. The footwork that, if not done properly, could throw off your whole performance in a set and cost the team valuable points. Constantly watching over your teammates and learning how they play as well as keeping up with what you're

It was the summer prior to freshman year, and all I wanted to do was make the volleyball team. However, I was not a great player and I did not make the team. Although it hurt when it happened, I did not know what it would lead to. In the middle of first semester, my friend had told me Valencia was going to form a lacrosse team and thought we should join. Not knowing anything about the sport, I agreed. The problem was there was only going to be a boys’ team, and some of the boys and their fathers were not keen on us joining. Despite their opinions of us, we found a coach who would teach us and began preparing.

In The Cincinnati Enquirer, Albert Einstein said “You never fail until you stop trying”. In the other word the frailer is decision that you chose not a predestination that you have to take. For me I believe there is no fail if you keep working and when you made a mistake that mean you learn a new wrong way to do whatever is that thing so you do not do it again in that way. When you fail in doing something that is your first step to the success because after that fail you got the experience and now you are stronger to beat that mission.

It absolutely was difficult for me to think of your good career as my low academics profile snatched all my confidence and made myself suffer from inferiority complex for some time. When I failed in class 11th it was less shocking for me, but all my hopes of getting in to a good profession shattered when I failed in the 11th. I passed my SSC with a miserable credit score of 44% and performed my HSC - Gujarat Board (12th Standard) for yourself and passed with 53% Marks. I appeared for a few access tests for getting in Executive but failed in first attempt itself. Being from a middle class family the expectations and academics failure frustrated me and literally has lost my mental balance at some level. I was reading stories of failure and how after failure also people become successful and I was motivated by Michael Jordan,