What Being Terrible At Sports Taught Me About Myself

A year ago today, I asked my friend Allen if he would help me practice volleyball on some sand courts after work. I had met Allen playing on an indoor league and was immediately impressed by how good he was. Not only that, he was friendly and nice enough to play with people not at his level, like me.

He texted me the next day and said he was free, so I left work a little early to maximize the time we’d have. When I got there, Allen informed me that two of his friends were also coming, so we could play doubles later. Externally I played it cool, but internally I started panicking, since I was sure his friends were way better than me, and I was scared that they wouldn’t really want to play with me. Plus, I wasn’t sure if I was even good enough to play doubles…what if I kept on shanking my passes and killing the rallies? What if they thought I was terrible?

At that moment my insecurities about my athletic abilities from years past came flooding back to me. Growing up, I was never very good at sports. In elementary school I enjoyed recreational soccer and basketball with friends but never participated in any kind of organized team sports.

I don’t remember being picked last on a team for PE or anything like that, but I do remember a traumatizing basketball drill that happened in a junior high PE class: we had to dribble a ball down the court, make a basket, and dribble back. For some reason I couldn’t make a basket to save my life, and I was still trying to make my first basket when everybody else had finished and stood idly by. I felt ashamed and embarrassed even though I don’t recall anybody making fun of me for it. Despite junior high being just a few years ago, I remain emotionally scarred by that memory.

My lack of athleticism wasn’t limited to just basketball: to this day I still can’t throw a football. Properly, with a spiral, that is. My brother tried to show me once but I didn’t practice enough to get it. I had asked him to teach me right before I went to a friendly flag football game hosted by a good friend from work. To be honest, I was terrified of playing and didn’t want to go, but something inside me said I should go to be social and to at least try and face my fear of being embarrassed playing sports.

It started off a bit more intimidating than I had anticipated: after the very first play, a teammate sternly berated me on how I was doing a poor job guarding the guy assigned to me. A few plays later, though, somehow I got the ball and ran past everybody on the opposing team for an unexpected touchdown. Nobody was more surprised than me, and I honestly don’t remember what happened the rest of the game. That game was proof to me that God can work miracles when you try to face your fears and listen to the still small voice inside you.

Outside of the requisite PE classes I avoided sports in high school and college, so I don’t know what compelled me to randomly go to volleyball after church one day, a few years after graduating from college. Maybe I thought that the chances of somebody making fun of me at a church activity were lower, or that I needed exercise. Either way, that was the beginning of my healing journey in the area of team sports. I met my friend Matt that day, and he patiently showed me the basics of passing and setting. I quickly discovered that I actually enjoyed playing volleyball (a first for me), and I also had a great time meeting friendly people.

After that, I was hooked. I bought a grass volleyball net and started hosting volleyball on weekends when the organizer moved out-of-state. I started a team in a grass league at work, and became the worst player by far on my own team when other really good players joined. My junior-high self showed up many times during that summer league, reminding me of that basketball drill in PE class, and questioning whether my teammates wanted to play with someone who didn’t even know how to serve overhand. At the same time, I felt like God was telling me to ignore those old voices, press on, and try to have fun. Incredibly, nobody embarrassed or made fun of me, and instead everybody was nice and encouraging. Although I was and still am terrible by any kind of competitive standard, I became more at peace with how I played.

That day, as I practiced with Allen and waited for his friends to show up, whatever peace I had felt from before quickly evaporated. Sure enough, his friends Scott and Jason were way better than me. Allen and Scott played on the same high school volleyball team together, and they met Jason at a competitive indoor open gym.

Allen and I ended up partnering up against Jason and Scott. I can’t remember exactly what I prayed, but it must have been something along the lines of, “OH DEAR GOD PLEASE DON’T LET ME BE EMBARRASSED PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HELP ME PLAY BETTER JESUS PLEASE HELP ME AMEN.”

I think Jesus heard my prayer, because remarkably, I played well enough to make it a few competitive games. Somehow I scored some points, and everybody at least acted friendly and encouraging. I secretly wondered if Jason and Scott would actually choose to play with me again, but at least it was competitive and fun for me, and I think (and hoped) it was the same for them.

Looking back, that was one of the highlights of my year, and an experience I will always remember fondly. Perhaps more amazingly, I became friends with both Jason and Scott, and they have actually willingly played volleyball again with me. (In fact, just last weekend I played with both Scott and Allen, while Jason was unfortunately busy.)

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it’s Good Friday exactly one year after I asked Allen to help me practice volleyball. It’s a day many around the world recognize their own shortcomings but celebrate how God still loves us. In that spirit, I’ve been reflecting this week on God’s faithfulness, and how grateful I am for all the encouraging people he has blessed me with along the way.

I’m also writing this to remind myself that overcoming my insecurities playing sports is not a one-time event, but a process that requires repeated, intentional choices to step outside my comfort zone and not succumb to my worst fears about myself. Even initially asking Allen for help was uncomfortable, especially since the last time I had asked a friend to coach me, I was basically told to go practice by myself. It takes perseverance and faith to ignore the old and familiar internal voices that tell me I’m no good at sports and people wouldn’t want to play with me. Although those voices have not completely gone away, I am learning to respond by leaning into my fears instead of running away from them.

I am so thankful for Allen, Scott, and Jason for playing doubles with me that day, but am more thankful for how far God’s brought me on this journey.