Volleyball Tryout Essay

We walked together to the field, the spikes on the bottom of my cleats clicking with each step on the parking lot pavement. A huge field with onlookers filling the bleachers on the far side came into view, lit up by the soft evening light. I spotted the girls on my team and my tired looking grey-haired coach. Me and my dad split up, me going to warm up with my team and my dad going to sit with the team parents. As I was passing with my teammates I watched the opposing team carefully. I observed how neat their drills were and how accurate their shots and passes were. They all looked so athletic and that really made me doubt myself. How was I supposed to prove to everyone that I was a good player if I had to play against a team this good? What if I mess up and the other team completely destroys my team? The loud buzzer that ended the warm ups sounded and both teams went to their side of the field. My coach called today’s starters out, and luckily he didn’t choose me. Relieved, I went to go sit on one of the hard metal chairs they provided for the teams on the sidelines. The chairs were uncomfortable but that didn’t bother me. I had other things on my mind. I sat shivering watching the events of the game

     The sport of volleyball was created by a man named William G. Morgan of Holyoke, Massachusetts in 1895. Morgan was a physical education teacher at the YMCA and called it "mintonette". It was an indoor or outdoor pastime that had characteristics of both handball and tennis. The first rules were written down by Morgan himself. He wrote that the game called for a 6 foot 6 inch net and a court of 25x50 feet. A match composed of 9 innings and 3 serves for each team in each inning. In case of a serving error they got a second chance just like in tennis. If the ball it the net

It was a very warm and tense place in the gymnasium of the Alpena High School. A group of freshman and sophomore baseball players were waiting for the words you wanted to hear which was “Congratulations” or the not so good news of “Sorry” from the coach deciding if you made the team. Personally, at the start of baseball tryouts I thought to myself it’s going to be a toss up to see if I would make the team having a 50/50 chance. I was nervous for the most part because there were an abundace of upperclassman also trying out for the team that were on it last year. There were twenty-seven people trying out for fifteen spots to play JV baseball.

The Richard Thompson Stadium started to get packed while we warmed up. Our team consisted mainly of sophomores and juniors, if there were more than 5 freshmen I would be exaggerating. I was putting on my cleats to start moving the ball and Vicente, one of the freshman said, “I wish Coach Nunez would let me play today.” “You might get some minutes depending on how the game goes,” I replied. Then, one of the juniors started laughing and told us, “look kidos, there are no chances of you kicking a ball tonight!” We did not pay much attention to him and kept on getting ready just in case. Coach Nunez was talking to the varsity Coach and suddenly he shouted, “Rojas! Come here.” I thought he was going to ask me a favor or tell me to go get something from the locker. “Rojas, I need you to be a wall in the midfield. No te quiero ver parado. Tell Kevin [one of

The next practice I was putting my gear on slowly like usual so my best friend Trinity could get there before I had to go practice with another girl, since Trinity was really the only one who was interesting to talk to. When she finally got there, we starting practicing normal catch with the softball. After I finished telling her that I wanted to try pitching, and after a lot of convincing her that I could do it, I tried my pitch. It was to low, and Trinity got it as a ground ball. “I told you you can’t pitch, let’s just practice the normal way.” I said no, I needed to become a pitcher, to help my team and help me to not always be at 3rd base.

I ran back to the ball with all of my might pick up the ball with 10 sec left...10...9...8...7...6...5...4... I shot the ball! 3...2...SCORE!

The tryouts were next week, and I was so nervous. What if I didn’t make the team? I thought.

"MOM! I do not know! PLEASE, calm down all I remember was the ball coming in my direction and I could not save myself," I continued to tell my mother everything that the athletic trainer said and

As I stepped onto the field preparing to be a ball boy, I could feel my heart pounding inside me. When I spotted the players walking to the field, I was nervous and super excited at the same time. I had been deliberating what I should or should not do before the onset of the game. For example, if our team (Atlanta United) was winning, I would take a moment to slow the game down. On the other hand, if the opposite team was winning, I would demand of myself to be nimble and get the ball back into play as soon as possible. Finally, my dream of being a ball boy for a major league soccer team was becoming a reality.

We rushed out onto the field for the last time. The chilly rain was pouring down. The field was soaked. With every step I took there was a sloshing sensation in my cleat. I put my game face on. No ball would get by me. We were going to score. We were going to win. For the next twenty five minutes, I watched a back and forth in the midfield. Several times I stopped the ball and passed it forward to Kaylee, only for the pass to be intercepted before we were able to score. And then, just as the clock was running down to under five minutes left, I stopped a hard pass just outside our circle. I dribbled for several

We went in through the back and sat down in the athletic hallway so we could put on our shoes. The upperclassmen looked at us with glares, but what could we do? Us being freshmen drew eyes, especially since we didn’t know what we were doing. About ten minutes after sitting down, the head varsity coach called us into the gym. I had a plan to pass with one of my good friends who had played before to show the coaches I know what I’m doing. We all had to sign in at a table, and then we were given

As I stepped on the field, I knew the next few minutes could make or break my college options. Although I was only a freshman, if I were able to make varsity, college would be closer in reach. The first feed I had from behind cage was low, my stick drug the ground as if I was using a shovel, I cradled through the ball and somehow came up with it, no problem. My next challenge was to finish the shot. As I made a fake and the ball plummeted to the ground, I knew I needed to step up my game. The second pass came right into the pocket of my stick, I faked low and shot high, directly into the top corner of the goal. I slowly jogged off the field, behind me I faintly heard “way to go kid”, I knew it must have been the varsity coach.

Playing on the varsity volleyball team is an adrenaline rush like no other. To be able to play the sport you love with teammates that are like family, in front of a crowd of actual family members is the ultimate feeling. Playing is even better when you, a small town nobody, beat a ranked team in the first set. We had just beaten Humboldt 25-17 and I was on top of the world. We were playing like our lives depended on it and I couldn’t be more proud of the girls.

I first started playing volleyball at a very young age. I was in the seventh grade when my volleyball career started. My sister started playing in the seventh grade and I just wanted to follow her footsteps. My seventh grade year was ok because I had just started out and really didn’t know the game. There was A team and a B team, where A team was better than the B team. I tried my best to be on the A-team, but guess where I ended up, on the B team.

As my heart grew for the love of volleyball, I took my talents to harder competition, Great Lakes at the end of my sixth-grade season. This is a very well-known team and they are very superior at volleyball. That was one of the scariest tryouts I have ever attended because there were over three hundred girls trying out for the volleyball team! The first thing everyone was tested on was "hitting". Every girl got in a line and tried their best to hit the ball over the net. Well, I was still in sixth grade at the time along with many other girls and most of us were all still fairly short. I was the next girl in line to hit, I had butterflies in my stomach like no other. I walked up to the ten-foot line and did my approach. Boom! The ball goes screaming over the net! I never knew I had such great power in my arm. Next up in line was the girl behind me her name was Megan, she was also short. Megan goes up to the line and swung at the ball but missed. The girls in the gym were laughing at her because the ball went under the net instead of going over. Suddenly