Last week I played my last volleyball game on Tunstall’s court; my last time running out of the locker room, the last time I would have my name announced, and the last time I would be able to hear the bleacher creatures in the stands beside me cheering us on.

Leading up to the game, I was determined not to cry. I had watched 4 previous groups of girls cry on their senior nights by the time the game was over, win or lose, and I told myself I was not going to be like them. I am proud to say that I didn’t cry…at the school.

I opened all the gifts and accepted all the flower bouquets from teammates, family, and friends, and admired all of the posters my team had made to decorate the gym. I walked across the court with my parents and shook my coaches’ and principals’ hands and continued to play a 5 set volleyball game all without a single tear escaping my eye.

The fact is, the realness of it all doesn’t set in until it’s all over when you take off your home jersey one last time, clean out your gym locker that you’ve had since your first JV season, and walk out of the gym doors.

For those of you who aren’t a part of a group of some sort, let me be the one to tell you, there is no better feeling than knowing you’re a part of something: a part of a team that becomes family, a part of something bigger and stronger than you alone does not compare to anything else. Having a bond with a group of people like no other and knowing someone is always there for you for encouragement, advice, and support.

During volleyball season, I see my team more than I see my parents (or any family member for that matter). From the first tryout in early August to the last game in late October or early November, the Tunstall varsity volleyball team spends at least 10 hours with each other a week between games and 2 hour practices on every other day.

It doesn’t take long for a team to feel like family. I’ve been a part of my volleyball family for 5 years, since 8th grade. I remember my first tryout in Tunstall’s gym; I remember how hard I worked the summer before 8th grade and how much I wanted it. I remember my dad picking me up and twirling me around after I told him I made the team; he was so proud of me, and I was so proud of myself.

Looking back, I didn’t know what making the volleyball team really meant. It meant I was going to have a bond with five different teams, creating unforgettable memories with each team and each team holding a special place in my heart. I didn’t know that I would meet such admirable people while playing. Tunstall volleyball introduced me to my best friends who would, over the years, become family.

I learned a lot on Tunstall’s court, not just about volleyball but about how to persevere after becoming discouraged, how to forget about mistakes and move on, and how to take both criticism and compliments with grace. I grew up on that court, from an insecure 13-year-old to a confident 17-year-old. The court has been a home to me, it’s somewhere I’m comfortable and one of the only places I don’t stress.

I remember the first time crying on Tunstall’s court after my 8th grade JV team lost to Patrick County, if we had won that game we would’ve been district champions; I can remember walking into the locker room with my team, each one of us crying from disappointment, and all of our supporters in the stands cheering for us and encouraging us because they knew, just like we did, that we had left everything we had out on Tunstall’s court. That was the moment I realized that I love volleyball.

It’s all coming to an end. Soon I’ll be telling people “I used to play volleyball” rather than “I play for Tunstall.” The tryout next summer will be the first I haven’t been to in five years and an 8th grade girl will make the team, just like I did, and her dad will be proud of her, just like mine was, and in five years, she’ll have the bittersweet feeling of leaving Tunstall volleyball behind, just like I have.