I nod. An un-caffeinated Temi is a grumpy Temi.
Finally, we see it rumbling into the parking lot and we all start picking up our bags.
Coach walks up to the open bus doors and speaks to the man inside.
When she comes back down, she’s got a sour look on her face, like she just tried those frozen candied grapes Daly gave me the other day that were so tart they nearly split my face intwo. She claps her hands. “There’s apparently an issue with the bus, which is why we are running late, but I have to let you know that there is no working bathroom on this bus.”
Groans erupt from the team. “What are we supposed to do? It’s a five-hour ride, we can’t hold it that long,” cries Megan, one of our second stringers.
“I suggest you all run back inside now and use the facilities before boarding the bus.”
Several women immediately scramble back into the building at Coach’s suggestion. I already waited until what I thought was the last second to go, so I’ll probably be good. Traveling makes me nervous, so I won’t eat or drink much anyway. I typically use all our time before games to catch up on that. It’s almost guaranteed we’ll make a stop along the way.
When we’re all loaded on the bus, just as I suspected, Coach announces that there will be a bathroom break every two hours. “If you can hold it until that point, please try to do so. We are already off schedule and any additional stops will only make it worse.”
We end up stopping more than every two hours, unloading and reloading, and departing again. I make sure to use the restroom every time we stop so that I’m never pushing it while waiting for the next one. The drive between Texas and Louisiana is the flattest, emptiest, most boring parts of Texas. You can drive an hour without seeing anything but farm fields and pine trees. The trip is dotted by multiple small towns boasting a population of just a couple hundred on their ‘welcome to’ signs.
It makes me think about Wyatt. Does he ever drive out from the city just to feel the country breeze? Just so he can see more stars? Probably not, he’s a busy man. But maybe during the off-season he’s tempted to go get a taste of the small-town life he grew up with.
I reel my wandering thoughts back in and focus on the upcoming game.
Since we left late, we arrive at the hotel late. We were supposed to have nearly the entire day to get in, watch film, and warm up, but now we have to run everything on a crunch. It’s hectic getting the entire team ready to go that quickly. We have all the regular athlete stuff, but we also need a good amount of time in the hotel bathroom fixing our hair and makeup. That’s not what makes us great athletes, but a lot of us focus heavily on our appearance because we know we’re putting on a show, as well as a game. Thanks to our delayed bus, we have very little time for that. I have an extensive stretching routine, which normally I start in my hotel room before joining the rest of the team, but I don’t have time for it today. I dress quickly, pulling my hair up, and sliding my warm-up gear on over my Spandex. Then I’m ready to go down to the team meal and watch tape.
“This food is way better than what we got at U of M,” says Daly, grabbing a plate to start making her way down the buffet.
“Well, it is NOLA. City of soul food,” I say as I pick up the tongs for the platter of fruit.
“And soul drink,” laughs Temi. “But we won’t have any time for fun.”
“I’d rather not babysit ya’ll on Bourbon Street anyway.”
Temi sticks her tongue out at me in petulant response.
With game tape watched and hair and makeup done, wehead down to wait for the bus. I have never wanted to see a bus less in my life, but we shuffle back on to be whisked to the arena to start our pregame warmups.
The set comes from Danica high over my head. I try to slow myself mid approach to match the speed the ball is falling, but I already have too much momentum. I’m here now, so I may as well swing. The ball hits the blocker’s hands with a resoundingsmackand falls back on our side of the net. Daly drops to try and pop the ball back up, but it hits one of her arms, then the other, then the ground. The ref blows his whistle, calling the play dead and awarding the point to the other team.
Despite my several year friendship with Temi, we still need more work on coming together as a team. Tonight, we’re showing that.
“That’s on me, guys.” She pats her chest, taking ownership of her mistake, as she approaches the rest of the team in the middle of the court. We clap hands and pat butts before returning to our respective positions.
“I like my set a little lower than that,” I tell Danica, and she smiles back at me, appreciative of the note. This is just part of the growing pains of a new team. We’re getting to know each other on and off the court. Like last week I learned that Daly likes pineapple on pizza and Danica towels off between each toe after she showers. To which I responded that that’s her serial killer trait. My serial killer trait is putting on one sock and then one shoe instead of both socks and both shoes. I embrace the quirk.
Our hitting errors are off the charts tonight. They blocked my hit and scored, Temi hit one out of bounds on the cross, and New Orleans is reading our yo-yo serve plan like a book. They’re easily digging both our short serves and the deep ones. It’s a frustrating game. Any time we come back and get close, it seems like we fall apart a little and lose the momentum.
We manage to push them all the way to five sets, but ultimately still take the L. I knew that playing in a start-up league would come with its own battles—of course I did. I was just blind to how that would directly impact me after spending years playing with one of the oldest, most titled clubs in the world. I know the other team is new, too, but maybe they’re working harder or gelling better than we have so far. We’ll never know. All we can do is our job the best we know how under the circumstances and improve with every misstep.
After a few words, Coach tells us to get ready to go home. Temi sits down on the bench next to me and starts shucking off her court shoes. I don’t even look at her when I say, “Well, that sucked.”
“It was our first attempt. We can’t base the whole season on the outcome of one game. There will be plenty more in our future.”
I sigh and it sounds heavy in the air around us. “This is it for me. If this team doesn’t work out, I’m done with volleyball. My only option is that I’ll retire and find somewhere to coach.” I’ve had a great career, but eventually my body is going to give out on me anyway, and maybe failing in a fiery explosion would be a sign to quit while I’m ahead of my fucked-up knees and torched shoulders.
“They’ll have to drag me off the court,” Temi replies. “I’llgo back overseas if I have to.” Temi moved around a lot as a kid since her dad is an international businessman, so she’s used to living anywhere and fitting in everywhere.
“Well, if you do, I’ll come watch you play.”
I might be done if this doesn’t work out, but I’d never leave her hanging.