The second the whistle ended the scrimmage, our side of the court exploded into complete chaos. Mason immediately launched himself at Leo like they had just won a national championship instead of a practice set to fifteen. Caleb slid dramatically across the floor on his knees screaming "BLUE TEAM DYNASTY" while Ethan laughed so hard he nearly dropped his water bottle trying to avoid getting tackled.
On the other side of the net, Noah pointed accusingly toward Lucas while still grinning.
"That set was too low."
"You jumped twelve years early," Lucas shot back instantly.
"You betrayed me as a setter."
"You were literally falling sideways."
Ryan grabbed the volleyball and tossed it lightly at Noah's chest. "You also shanked two passes."
"That's fake news."
Even the parents up in the bleachers were laughing now because none of us looked remotely calm anymore. Kids were talking over each other, replaying rallies that had happened thirty seconds earlier like they were legendary moments in volleyball history, while Coach Mia and Coach Daniel stood near the net letting everybody celebrate for another minute before finally calling us back in.
"Alright, champions," Coach Mia said loudly, clapping twice. "Bring it in."
Most of us jogged over still breathing hard and grinning. A few kids dropped onto the floor immediately because conditioning earlier had absolutely destroyed them already. Owen laid flat on his back dramatically.
"I can't feel my legs anymore."
"You're fine," Coach Ryan told him.
"I don't think I am."
Coach Daniel crouched slightly once everybody settled down enough to listen.
"That was better," he said honestly. "Still messy sometimes, but better."
Immediately Mason raised his hand.
"My kill at the end was extremely advanced."
Coach Mia pointed at him without even looking.
"You also hit three balls into different zip codes earlier."
A bunch of kids laughed while Mason muttered, "Power takes sacrifice."
Coach Daniel shook his head, smiling a little before continuing.
"What we liked today was communication. The rallies got longer because some of you finally started trusting teammates instead of everybody chasing the same ball."
Then he pointed toward the court behind us.
"At your age, volleyball is still about learning. Mistakes are normal. Missing serves is normal. Bad footwork is normal. What matters is whether you're improving and paying attention."
That part made the gym quieter.
Focused quieter.Because even though we were all still kids, everybody there cared already. Some more than others obviously, but enough that compliments from coaches actually meant something.
Coach Mia stepped forward next with her clipboard tucked under one arm.
"We'll keep rotating positions during development," she explained. "Especially at U10. Some of you will grow. Some of you will move differently a year from now. Some of you may discover you're better somewhere else."
That sentence immediately stayed stuck in my head. Because I already knew what position I wanted.
After the meeting ended, kids slowly started grabbing backpacks and water bottles while parents came down from the bleachers. Noah and Julian were already arguing about whether Noah's serve had actually clipped the net on purpose when I walked over toward Coach Daniel near the sideline.
He was writing notes on his clipboard when I stopped beside him holding my volleyball against my hip.
"Coach?"
He looked up immediately. "Yeah buddy?"
I hesitated for a second trying to organize the question correctly in my head.
"If somebody already knows what position they want… should they still practice the others anyway?"
Coach Daniel's expression changed slightly then. Not surprised exactly. More thoughtful.
"Absolutely," he answered.
"Even if they're pretty sure already?"
"Especially then."
I looked down at the floor for a second while processing that.
Coach Daniel leaned lightly against the ball cart.
"You know why good liberos usually understand the game really well?"
I shook my head.
"Because they spend years learning what every OTHER position is trying to do first. A libero who understands hitters becomes better at defense. A libero who understands setting knows where attacks are developing before they happen."
That immediately made sense in my brain.
"You're probably right that libero fits you naturally," he continued. "But you're eight. There's no rush to lock yourself into one thing forever yet."
I nodded slowly.
"Okay."
Coach Daniel smiled a little then.
"But honestly? Your reads today were really impressive."
My chest felt weirdly warm hearing that. embarrassed warm.
Before I could say anything else, I spotted Dad walking through the gym doors carrying my water bottle that I'd forgotten near the bench earlier. The second he saw me, I immediately started walking faster toward him because my brain was already replaying the scrimmage at full speed again.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
"We won."
Dad laughed immediately. "That sounds important."
"It WAS important."
As we walked toward the parking lot, I started talking before we even reached the car. Not normal talking either. Fast talking. The kind where thoughts kept stacking on top of each other quicker than my mouth could organize them.
"Coach Daniel said my reads were impressive and Caleb almost did a flying karate move save and Mason hit one ball so hard it almost hit another court and Noah finally got his ace after like six tries and Leo got the winning block even though earlier he jumped too early and—"
Dad opened the passenger door while grinning.
"Breathe, buddy."
"I AM breathing."
"You're giving an entire documentary."
The drive home felt shorter than usual because I spent almost the entire time replaying rallies out loud. Every few minutes I remembered another detail and interrupted myself to explain it.
At one red light, I suddenly sat forward in my seat.
"Oh, and Coach Daniel said good liberos should understand every position."
Dad glanced sideways briefly.
"That sounds smart."
"It IS smart. Because if you know what hitters want, then you know where the attack is probably going."
Dad nodded slowly.
"That's actually pretty advanced thinking."
I shrugged but couldn't stop smiling a little while staring out the window. Outside, Pasadena glowed orange beneath the early summer evening sunlight while cars rolled steadily through traffic and palm trees swayed lightly beside the roads.
By the time we got home, Mom was already finishing dinner in the kitchen. The second I walked through the front door carrying my volleyball bag, she looked up from the stove and smiled immediately because apparently my face already gave everything away.
"You had fun."
"We won the scrimmage."
Henrique laughed behind me while setting my bag near the hallway.
"That was the first thing he said."
Dinner barely lasted five minutes before I started explaining everything. I talked through almost the entire meal while Mom listened from across the table and Dad occasionally added details anytime I skipped parts accidentally.
"There was this rally where Noah tried tipping short," I explained while waving my fork around dangerously close to my water cup, "and then Dylan did this INSANE dive even though the ball wasn't actually that hard to get but it looked really cool anyway."
"That sounds like Caleb," Dad said.
"And Mason finally got a clean kill near the end after Coach Daniel fixed his footwork because before that he kept jumping too early."
Mom smiled softly while listening.
"And what about you?"
I sat up straighter immediately.
"I had a really good dig cross-court."
"A really good dig?" Dad repeated.
"It was VERY controlled."
"Obviously."
"And Coach Ryan said my passing angle was cleaner today."
Mom exchanged a small glance with Dad then. Not a worried look this time.
Not the careful nervous looks they used to share after school meetings or therapy sessions or difficult days when my brain felt too loud for the world around me.
This one looked different. Because sitting there at the dinner table while I excitedly explained volleyball rotations and defensive reads with spaghetti still on my plate and sweat-dried hair sticking up in different directions, I probably looked exactly like what I actually was underneath everything else.
Just an eight-year-old kid who had found something he loved.