NCAA | As Washington volleyball’s season ends, reflecting on what we all saw

Win or lose, a volleyball match that matters is an unforgettable experience

#11 Nebraska def. #3 Washington 3-1 (20-25, 25-20, 25-22, 29-27)
#12 BYU def. #8 Florida State 3-1 (25-20, 25-19, 19-25, 26-24)

• #12 BYU vs. #11 Nebraska | Sat, Dec. 13 | 8:30PM |Alaska Airlines Arena

 

Washington's Tia Scambray (20), Lianna Sybeldon (10) and Crissy Jones (28) block against Nebraska
-Volleyblog Seattle photo by Leslie Hamann

There is nothing quite like the rhythm and flow of a meaningful volleyball match.

When the outcome is on the line, no one steps out of the batter’s box. There are no endless time-outs, no interminable video reviews. You can’t take a knee or run out the clock.

At the end of each point, a ball is quickly delivered to the next server, who has but a few seconds to put it back in play. There’s no time for taunting, no room for histrionics. Just rhythm and flow.

Friday night in Alaska Airlines Arena, 6,789 spectators were part of a pulse that rose to an emotional crescendo as Washington (31-3) and Nebraska (23-9) played yet another memorable match. Tied at one set apiece, the stage was set for a pair of down-to-the-wire final frames. Through it all, neither side folded. The outcome was always in doubt. And the setting was extraordinary.

As sets three and four each drew to a close, the din grew deafening whenever a server stepped to the line. No fireworks on the Jumbotron or artificial banners pleading for more noise. If the band was playing or a player substitution was announced, you wouldn’t know it. You couldn’t hear it.

And then, at the moment of server contact, a hush. Thousands of breaths were drawn as eyes fixed to the ball’s flight, anticipating a chessboard of possibilities ahead. Each time the ball passed across the net, crowd murmur returned: a collective inhale, an ooh, an ahh, a shared squeal of suspense. If the home team won the point, lungs erupted into a roar that—toward the end—would have strained one of those stadium decibel devices.

Players from Washington and Nebraska plead their case to the official
-Volleyblog Seattle photo by Leslie Hamann

Four officials worked the game, two at the net and two on the corners. Powerful swings required snap judgments, some of them undoubtedly wrong. Coaches were entitled to obligatory dissents, but in volleyball, no one climbs off the ladder and goes under a hood to watch the replay. It takes at least 75 points to win at least three sets of a match, and it’s rare when any one official’s error is decisive.

Washington's Melanie Wade and Tia Scambray joust
with Nebraska setter Mary Pollmiller
-Volleyblog Seattle photo by Leslie Hamann

A long season of sweat and repetition and progress can suddenly hang by the thinnest of threads. A gutsy serve just misses. A risky set falls flat. A muscular attack skips just past the boundary. In the unforgiving glare of packed arena kleig lights, young women barely beyond their teens take risks and expose themselves to failure in the chase for fleeting reward. How many of us could trade places with them? Our daughters, at long last, have an athletic arena where they are not in the shadow of our sons and are truly the center of attention for all the right reasons: strong, agile, competitive, smart.

25 points was not enough to hold set four, and as Washington fought off a string of elimination points, before one of those gutsy swings hit the wrong side of the line. But this much was true: either side could have won. Either side deserved to win. Until the final split second, narratives about who won and why could have gone either way.

In any postseason post-match press conference, the scene borders on bizarre. Adrenaline and endorphins still race. Throats are hoarse, hair is matted and jerseys are soaked with sweat just as a bank of cameras come to life. The room is small, stuffy and awkwardly silent. Reporters on deadline have little time for nuance. Exhausted coaches have been given no opportunity for reflection. Most everyone would rather be somewhere else, so clichés become the refuge.

Washington coach Jim McLaughlin
-Volleyblog Seattle photo by Leslie Hamann

When the players retreat to the locker room, none of us can ever follow. Literally. And figuratively. Years and decades from now, those athletes will stay connected in ways that few of us can comprehend. Only they know what each of them sacrificed. Only they understand the danger and intensity and casualties of the battle. Only they appreciate the inside jokes and sly references. Parents are part of the experience, but not of the group, and can never enter the circle. Even coaches—though central to all that happens—remain outside the lifelong bond. After players remove jerseys one final time, coaches will back at work the next day, ready to greet the next round of recruits.

Most who were in that arena will be either disappointed or elated by the result. But it’s only a result. Years from now, we won’t remember the score. Eventually, we’ll even forget who won.

But if you were there, you’ll always remember the rhythm and flow.

Washington's Kaleigh Nelson (6), Krista Vansant (16) and Lianna Sybeldon (10)
-Volleyblog Seattle photo by Leslie Hamann