Ryan’s Response

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The worst part about getting injured just a few weeks before your last IASAS volleyball tournament, is not the excruciating pain of landing on someone’s foot and tearing the ligament in your ankle. It’s not the hours of waiting at a random hospital in Kuala Lumpur for an x-ray. It’s not even your friends stealing your crutches and running away that’s the worst part… *cough*, Chan, … For that matter, the worst part is not even having to hop up the stairs at school because the elevator was out of system. The worst part is the fact that six years of dedication towards Volleyball just snaps out of existence. That’s the worst part. When you don’t have control. When you are helpless. 

When I was in elementary, our teacher took our class to watch an IASAS volleyball finals game, which was being hosted at SAS that year. As SAS sealed their championship, the bleachers erupted in celebration, with classmates, parents, and teachers all rushing to the court. I watched some players embrace their parents, some in joyful tears, and some hoisted on their friends' shoulders. This scene imprinted a vivid, enduring vision in my mind. This was my new dream. So, when our school began to offer a volleyball program in middle school, I saw this opportunity as a step closer to achieving this vision that I had created in elementary. Then came high school, and COVID unfortunately put a pause to volleyball. But I didn’t. In my tiny room, I bumped the ball against the wall, playing as quietly as I could to not get my third noise complaint. And when COVID restrictions began to ease, the next step of achieving my vision was at my fingertips: the varsity team. 

You know that feeling when you spend a couple of hours studying for a math test, then nonchalantly sauntering into class the next day feeling pretty confident for that A, but turns out the test is written in hieroglyphics and the only question – if you can call it one – that you end up filling out is your name and today’s date? Yeah, that feeling of dooming underestimation was exactly how I felt at tryouts, as the giant seniors pummeled spikes in my poor freshman face over and over again. I finished that tryouts with the glorious stats of 0 spikes, 5 missed serves, and 14 high fives. 

As a ninth grader, my ambition was admittedly far greater than my actual ability. However, Mr. Bildfell, the coach at that time, pulled me aside and told me, “Ryan, it’s only your freshman year, so don’t let this discourage you because you have time, time that none of these seniors have the privilege to anymore.” And like that I was cut. Cut, but not discouraged. I knew that I still had three more years to prove my worth. And that’s what I did. I kept playing, eventually making the varsity team, and soon came my senior year, which was my last opportunity to fulfill my vision. Much to everyone’s anticipation, IASAS was being hosted right here in Singapore. It would be a perfect reenactment of my elementary school memory – a home IASAS tournament, except this time, I would be all grown up, playing at the heart of the tournament in front of hundreds of people. 

I guess my ankle and number 9 from Dalat International School had other plans for me. 

This is what happened, and by the way, viewer discretion is advised:

Edward, who I showed a video of my injury to later, had the following insightful comment to make.

“Dude, I don’t think your ankle is supposed to do that.”

Me too, dude, I don’t think an ankle is supposed to do that. But it did, and an x-ray and mri scan later, the doctor told me that it was an anterior tibiofibular ligament tear. Now, I don’t know any of that medical lingo, but I did know one word, and it was loud and clear. Tear. And that was my volleyball dream. Torn. Just like my ankle. I was out for the remainder of the season.

See, the game of volleyball is unforgiving. Not just in the sense that you can tear your ankle, but that when you miss a spike, shank a pass, or give a bad set, there’s no luxury to sulk in your mistakes because the next serve is already on its way. And if you haven’t moved on by then, you’ll just make the same mistake. In the game of volleyball, you either move forward, or you’re left behind. But for some reason, in the very sport that had taught me this lesson, I was unable to move forward. And for a while, I would skip games and team gatherings, and slowly, my bond with my teammates and coaches became strained, imminent to tear like my ligament already had.

That was the reality of my situation for a while, until IASAS came around, and the team went on to make it to the finals for the first time since the pandemic. As the final spike thundered against the gym floor, marking a championship victory, I watched from the bench, my emotions clashing with pride and disappointment. The scene mirrored the vision I had in elementary- the bleachers emptying with players and supporters merging in a sea of celebration. Yet, I hesitated to join the crowd; I had envisioned myself at the heart of this triumph, not on the sidelines. “Come on Ryan, this is your moment!” I could feel my coach’s hand on my shoulder, urging me to stand up and join the celebration. What moment? This was the team’s moment, a team that I wasn’t a part of, and a moment that I didn’t contribute to. My moment had passed when I tore my ligament. 

But as I thought about my other moments throughout my volleyball journey, I thought of the years spent playing volleyball - the friendships forged, the guidance of my coaches, and the lesson of moving forward. I realized that at this point, it wasn’t even my injury that was stopping me from attending games, coming to team hangouts, and celebrating our IASAS victory; it was just me. It was my inability to move on. And in a situation like this, Marcus Auerlius – in his writings called Meditations – says, “If your distress has some external cause, it is not the thing itself that troubles you, but your own judgment of it - and you can erase this immediately." (79)

One day, we will all encounter an undeniable misfortune in our lives, whether it be physical, mental, or emotional. And as much as the circumstance was inevitable and out of our control, we will all be susceptible to developing our negative judgments of the situation. But like my story embodies, and like Marcus Auerlius proposes, we need to erase our negative judgment immediately, because it will do no better for your current situation

With a newfound realization of my self-sabotage – that my own judgment had been impeding my well-deserved celebration, I stood up from the bench, hobbling over as the crowd parted for me to join my team at the center of the court.

The worst part about getting injured just a few weeks before your last IASAS volleyball tournament, is not the injury; It’s not the physical pain, it’s not the helplessness of being unable to play, and it’s not the hopping up the stairs because the elevator was out of system. The worst part was that it had taken me so long to realize that I was still a part of our team, a team that won the 2023 IASAS Volleyball Championship. Thank you.



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