About the only other sport that I was good in, except for running, was volleyball. Even though I just barely missed making the team in ninth grade, I was still interested in playing. Somehow I found out that our ward’s team was playing it’s last game of the regular season. The other team forfeited and we won for our stake and that meant we could go on to region. All the games for the region championship were to be held on the same Saturday at a stake center high on the East Bench of Salt Lake. K.C. Sullivan, our junior leader took us all in his car. He would also be our coach. There wasn’t much excitement in this tournament since no other people but us came from the ward.
It was with great difficulty that we finally found the Church where we were to play. When we got in the gym, we saw that every other team had full volleyball uniforms on, compared to our tee-shirts and shorts. That should have been an indication right there that we were in trouble. But the first game of the double elimination tournament was a strong indicator of that as well. We lost badly. We rested a bit for the next game and K.C. gave us a pep talk. “Okay, we are going for blood.” Someone else replied, “Whose blood, there’s our ours?” We ended up losing that one as well. So much for volleyball.
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