I remember stumbling into a large room filled with ten courts of red, yellow, and orange waiting for my arrival. Instantly hearing the smacking of the balls and shouting of “mine!” all over the enormous space was enough to give me butterflies. I stood in line fidgeting with my hair as my mom waited to sign me in for my elite club volleyball tryouts. Once I was in, I shyly tried to make acquaintances with these new, unknown faces that I would be battling for the next four hours.

I remember the random separation of groups where our individual skills were put to the test. We all practiced two full hours of left-right-left-jump-swing and “Get low! Watch the ball into your arms!” I tried my hardest in those two hours of skill to impress the organization leaders, hoping that I would be good enough for them to notice my talent.

I remember getting the pitiful call to the bad court after the break. My heart dropped as I held a huge lump in my throat for the next two hours. I realized that my hardest was not good enough for these elites and that my fate of playing volleyball with them was at an all-time low. The whole idea of not making the team was a new concept for me. I had always made the best volleyball or softball team that I tried out for and I did not know how to deal with not making a team.

I remember getting the email a few days later saying that I did not make the team. I was no longer upset with my failure. On that day, I started believing that my failure is okay if I can get back up and face my defeat. I snatched my red, white, and blue ball and grabbed my brother off of the couch. It was time for me to get ready for my next set of tryouts.

Throughout the rest of the week, I spent my afternoons bumping and hand passing the ball to my brother; I was not about to let failure control my life and the game I love once again. On Saturday, I stormed into those less-elite tryouts with confidence written all over my face. I was going to play the game even if it meant sacrificing my body with bright red floor burns and dark purple bruises to save the ball. In the end, all of my hard work was a success. I earned a spot on the club’s third team and had an amazing season with one of the best coaches that I have ever had. In a way, my failure benefited me and gave me the opportunity to play volleyball with a group of girls who taught me a lot about the game.

Today, I still find myself learning from my failure. Whether it is shanking a volleyball at practice or getting a question wrong on a test, I am able to understand what I did wrong and how I can improve to possibly do better than I ever have before. I will always remember my first experience with failure in sports and how it changed my beliefs and actions toward losing or not making a team. Failure will always be a part of sports that I play, but how I react to that failure defines me as an athlete, and I want to be remembered for my ability to get back up quickly and positively instead of my struggle to get back into the game. My failure is what makes me human and my reaction towards failure is what sets me apart from others struggling around me.