My gargantuan victory.

Last week, I talked about “mini victories,” but today, I’d like to talk about a big victory. The gargantuan of victories. I signed up for a coed quads lottery tournament with a random person, and throughout the day, I played with 10 strangers.

Okay, so why is that a gargantuan victory, you ask?

For nearly a decade, I had a “built-in” volleyball partner. Over the years, we played in HUNDREDS of leagues and tournaments together. Sharing my passion for volleyball with my best friend and the person I loved most in the world was one of my greatest joys.

During my divorce, I tried for a bit to continue playing volleyball, but it was causing significantly more pain than it was bringing joy. People, especially in the volleyball community, knew me as “Lauren Deitering,” not “Lauren Stahl.” I was part of a pair, not an individual. Staying in that environment, for a variety of reasons, became too hard for me, so I stepped away.

I wasn’t on any specific timeline to return to the sport, but when I decided I was ready to try, I started with women’s doubles. The divorce severely impacted coed formats for me not only because I no longer had a default partner, but also, I couldn’t imagine playing with someone else. However, single gender? I had done that plenty of times before without Tyler. I could certainly do it again.

So, I played women’s doubles for a while, just one day a week. Tournaments were far and few between, but I was happy that volleyball was just a small part of my life instead of all of it.

In preparation of moving to Indiana to live with Brad, there were several emotional hurdles. My biggest fear was that it wasn’t going to feel like “home” – the house, the location, all of it. So, I took some steps to help me feel better, such as getting a local library card (that story can be a whole other blog) and joining a Floyd County volleyball league.

Let me be clear: Joining a volleyball league you’ve never played in before is not as simple as it seems. Usually, you have to register a full team. And I did not have a full team. All I had was myself. And nobody wants to take a chance on a new person.

I posted on a Facebook volleyball group that I was looking to join a team for an upcoming session, but I learned that all teams were full. A girl named Jessica said they might need a sub, and she would keep me in mind. I thanked her and assumed I would never hear from her again.

Until I did. Week after week. It got to the point where I was playing more than some of their rostered players, so the following session, they asked me to join the team formally.

The format is not my favorite – coed C+ sixes. But I freaking love showing up every week and playing, even though we mostly lose (YES, I SAID THAT. NO, I AM NOT BEING HELD HOSTAGE).

For the first time since my divorce, I get to play the sport I love with people who don’t know a thing about me. To them, I am just Lauren Stahl, the girl who tries too hard and is way too loud but somehow becomes quiet and socially awkward when she steps off the court.

While at one of my games, they were passing out flyers for an upcoming event. It was for a coed quads lottery, and I knew I wanted to play.

I just wasn’t sure who to ask. After sitting on it for a few days, I decided to reach out to a couple people who felt “safe” enough, but none of them were available the day of the tournament. I was becoming discouraged because I REALLY wanted to play. (I will explain my excessive desire to play in this specific tournament in a later blog. I have tried writing it, but it’s not in a place I am comfortable with yet.)

So anyway, I took a risk and posted to the same online volleyball group, communicating that I was looking for a partner. Nobody reached out. The deadline to sign up for the tournament was quickly approaching, and I finally accepted that I wasn’t going to have the opportunity to play this time around.

The day before the deadline, I got a Facebook message from someone I did not know. He asked if I was still looking for a partner. Normally, I would have done a deep dive into his entire life history to determine his skill level and personality (I am a professional online investigator), but at this point, I didn’t care. I just wanted to play.

I informed him that I was, indeed, still in need of a partner.

The next day, I went to sign us up, and the online form needed a shit ton of information from each player. Embarrassed, I texted Matt and let him know that I would need his email address, street address, tee shirt size, and birthday. I told him I was sending a screenshot of the form so he could see that I wasn’t a creep. He responded, “Do they need my social security number and blood type too?” It immediately put me at ease.

On my way to the tournament, I called my mom and told her, “I feel as nervous as a first date. I am going to have to walk in and start asking people if they are Matt. But this is worse than a date, because I had to pay $30 upfront, and I am stuck with him all day!”*

Because I had never played in an Indiana tournament, I wasn’t familiar with the divisions. And because I didn’t know Matt, I wasn’t familiar with his skill level. Needless to say, I went in with ZERO expectations. I told myself that I would be thrilled if we won just one game.

Well, it turns out, we were pretty damn good. And we finished the tournament in 2nd place. By one measly point. The day was a gargantuan victory, and it had nothing to do with our tournament results. Nothing at all.

My goal was to fully outline why this was my gargantuan victory (I touched on it), but it doubled the length of the post. I don’t have the emotional capacity for that, and I am sure my audience doesn’t have the attention span. This entire blog has been TL;DR (Mom, that means “too long, didn’t read.”)

*Thankfully, Matt was a total gem, a great player, AND louder than me. He even texted me before the tournament to talk about food and bought our lunch. Like, DREAM PARTNER. The only weird thing about him is that he keeps pumping bottles and breast milk in his cooler.

(Inside joke; I was digging in a stranger’s cooler thinking it was Matt's. Very embarrassing. When the stranger came over to retrieve their "liquid goal," I apologized and explained that I thought it was my partner's cooler. I could have stopped there, but I continued. "I guess the breast milk should have tipped me off, but I wasn't going to judge, because I just met him today, and I don't know what the hell he's into.")

Face palm.