The Only One Who Matters

Game time (1)

They're not trying their best at all.

Great.

Of course it would be me, a try-hard who strives for perfection in everything she does, who gets put in the same team as a bunch of people who do everything with a half-assed attitude.

I really can't see myself winning at this point, which is a shame. It's 12-19 right now, my team obviously being at 12. I was wrong to assume that they would try their best like me, but it's not like I would have done anything. Honestly, I'm really not as outgoing and confident as I sound. Sure, I'm a bit cocky when it comes to volleyball, but overall? Someone says my laugh is weird, chances are that I'll cry for a week. In addition, our team's score really isn't helping my ego.

But I'm not giving up. That is a defiinite no no.

I'm shouting out directions for people to run in and orders for people to follow in the spur of the moment. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it seems to throw them off.
Oops.
I honestly didn't expect to use a lot of energy in my first match, but it doesn't mean I won't. For all I know, it could benefit the team if I put all of my effort into playing. So, I start to pick up the pace. I do this by slowing everything down, and calling a time out.

We go to the side, and I tell my team about my made up 'strategy'. I give everyone different roles, that are lead by me. This means that different attacks will be used by different people. Everyone has their own special technique.

We break up, and we switch back into competition mode. Everyone knows what to do, yet we're all still a little nervous to test it out.
The whistle blows.
Surprise, we got a point.
And another.
Another one.

Sooner or later, we are only one point behind, at 18:19. But I refuse to get too confident. This could go wrong at any minute. We're still using my idea, and the other team doesn't seem to realise that something fishy is going on in our game play. I won't lie, if it were me, I think I would have figured it by now. So we got lucky I guess.

19:19, it's now a tie, more pressure to keep it going. In every chance I get, I cheer my team on, not knowing what's going on inside their heads. We play. The ball comes to our side. We pick it up. It's floating in the air, everything seems to be going in slow motion, even as our decided spiker flies from the ground and smashes the ball to the other side.

Another point. Somehow, we made it to the 20 mark first, which is great, it makes me feel more at ease. Just five more points to go, and then we've won this set. Everyone gets into their positions, ready to attack, ready to defend, and ready to win.

The whistle blows again. But they've called for a time out. All the girls hop to the side, and start talking with their team. I find it hard to listen to what my leader is saying, because I'm so nosy that I'm trying to figure out the other team's topic of discussion. But much to my dismay, I can't make anything out from just reading their lips. I accept this, and turn back to my team, engaging in the conversation once again.

We get back to our places, and start the game. My teams competitive spirit hasn't disappeared, so I don't think that we will be giving up anytime soon. So far so good, my team seems to have major character development in a time span of 10 minutes, which is great.
Maybe I underestimated them. Now that they're trying harder, our points are going up, and so is our energy. I can feel the adrenaline bouncing off each of my teammates as we glide across the glazed floor.
Three points later, and our competitors are still on a mark of 19, whilst we're at 23. Just two more, and we're free.
They serve the ball, and we receive it with ease. It shoots to our setter, who hits it back into the air, but unfortunately, our spiker is blocked.

I see her eyes widen as hands emerge from behind the net, stopping her from stealing a point.

"Rebound!"

She hears my command nice and clear, and with out any possession of skill, she manages to save the team. The ball falls slowly, and someone receives it, sliding across the floor with their eyes glued to which direction the ball is going in.

I see the setter running towards it. An urge to hit it over takes my excited body,

"Over here!" I shout, my voice dripping with desperation to spike this ball, and get a point which I can personally be proud of.

My legs take of, and before I know it, I'm running. The ball is making it's way over to me as my body is rising, and everything is slow once again. Luckily for me, there is no wall in front of me to prevent this point.

My arm violently swings forward, and my hand immediately stings as soon as it makes contact with the ball. I watch as it slips past the other girls on the team, and smirk with satisfaction as it jumps back into the air, after hitting the ground with a powerful force. 24:19.

Nice!