Two weeks before tryouts we weren't even sure that Irini was going to try out. The summer had been an amazing trip through Europe, the UAE heat was hitting us hard and the friends weren't trying out. In addition, daddy had decided that he wasn't going to coach this season (or year?) and, instead, focus on being a parent. As Irini tried out, and with the sheer number of girls trying out, daddy was stressed about whether or not Irini would make the team. On the last day of tryouts he snuck into the Fieldhouse and made his way upstairs to take a look at Irini playing below. He was determined to be there with her - even at a distance - in the event that she didn't make the team. As the final call in was made by the coaches he stood above, crying quietly and looking lovingly at his daughter below. Was it enough?
Two days later we all sat in an Italian restaurant and, as we waited for the meal, an email arrived informing Irini that she had made the team. Celebration all over... and daddy started crying again. Filled with pride and joy and the knowledge that volleyball will remain an important part of Irini's life.
Two weeks later, and once the tears had subsided, he was approached by the Athletics Director to see if he might consider returning to the court side. A shift in the coaching staff meant that there was an opening for the assistant position. Daddy had a chat with Irini, to make sure that was okay with her and, given the all clear, agreed to join the team (as long as he was not involved in making personnel decisions). From there on it was an amazing journey of rediscovery for him. Rediscovery of a love of volleyball coaching (and, in particular, the 'fit'). Rediscovery of coaching his daughter (who he had coached a few years earlier). Rediscovery of the dynamic nature of teenagers in emotional circumstances and the cultivation of a sense of 'us' from a post-COVID siloed life experience.
And so, as Irini and her teammates were celebrating their successes and dealing with the frustrations of their learning from the not-so-successful days, daddy did his thing in the background. He cheered. He yelled. He applauded. He reminded. He spoke and he listened. He did his best to grow and learn and help the team in whatever way we could. When the final whistle of the MESAC ended (after a two-hour bronze medal match) his heart was full. The stars had aligned - after a very difficult year or two - to bring a semblance of balance back to life, through volleyball.
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