a little bit of everything.

So my dad is from the old school, and in the old school, girls play piano, not sports. He's the type of dad that's good for protecting against psycho killers and making sure there aren't any holes in the roof he puts over my head. He's the type of dad that would jump under a bus for me but has trouble giving me hugs. He is not the type of dad that shows up at games. Every game I've ever had, I scan and re-scan the bleachers even though a certain valve of my heart knows I won't find him there. Today I did. Today when I looked up, my dad was sitting in the stands in the teal polo shirt I got him for Father's Day. Boy, I tell you I left my heart on that court. I played with a rolled ankle and a sprained ligament in my lower back. I was on the verge of tears the entire time, but I did everything in my power to win that game. And you know what? We lost. After the game, I hobbled over to my dad with fat streams of tears running down my face. He rubbed my back and let me cry on his shoulder. When I got home, he gave me an ice cream cone.

So even though we failed with flying colors, today is one of the happiest days of my life. I feel like I showed my dad how important volleyball is to me. I don't expect to see him at all of my games from this point forward, but I'm so relieved to know that it's not something he's completely against anymore. My whole point in sharing this is as follows: follow your happiness. Ignore people who make you feel like you have to trade your play books for cookbooks or your jersey for an apron or whatever the case may be. Stick with what you love, and those you love will eventually come around. So kick ___ and take names. And if you ever need support, I'm your guy.