This Is Still My Playground

Concentrate.

This should be purely mechanical for me.

I practically grew up playing this game. Learning the basics of the sport at around age 7, I started to love the game. And ever since I first stepped on that service area, I don't recall having any sort of problems getting the ball into the opponents court. Damn, I even had my killer serve. I might have looked like the 7 year-old totoy that I was, but I knew how to control that ball like I was holding its remote control and telling it where I wanted it to go to. Sure ball, as they say.

But that was then. That was roughly 25 years ago when I first touched a volleyball. And it has been approximately 10 years since I last played competitively.

Dribble the ball.
Feel its weight.
The controlled lift.
The killer hit.

What went wrong?

I was getting frustrated. Four services and I still couldn't get my rhythm. It wasn't as if I lacked the power to get the ball across to the other court. Heck, I could even launch that ball over the fence and make it land on the tennis court beyond the volleyball court.

It was a problem of control. Somehow, I didn't possess it anymore. Somehow, I couldn't command that volleyball the way I used to.

Must be the age.

No! I may have gotten a lot older. But I refuse to believe that I now suck in this game I have excelled in all my life.

I'm just a bit rusty. My timing is off. That's all. It will all come back to me. Give me one more game at the most. The form will be back. The control shall be mine again. Admittedly, I may have lost some quickness and agility. And I have also definitely lost some lift. But I have gained more power and still maintain the smarts for the game.

This is my game. This is my court. This is still my playground.