After the third quarter of our sectional quarterfinal game, my coach said something that really resonated with me. There were 43 seconds to go, and we were tied with Waubonsie Valley 4-4. He looked at all of our red, tired faces, and said “ladies, this is why we play water polo.”

I play water polo for the emotion that courses through my veins with my elevated heart rate. It’s not an easy sport: anyone who has ever been a spectator or tried to play could tell you that. It’s a half hour of play time, made up of sprinting back and forth, treading water, and being pulled under by ruthless opponents. It’s keeping your own body afloat when all the other girl wants to do is keep you underwater, all while handling the ball with only one hand. It’s seeing and anticipating, what needs to happen and what you need to do, all while chlorine burns your eyes in all its chemical glory, and the defense has a hand-full of your suit, and their nails raking across your back. Yet, this is of no consequence as the difficulty only leads to a more heightened and extreme sense of accomplishment. Our team, for water polo standards, plays rather cleanly, and we all feel such a sense of elation when it is proven that even though the other team plays dirty, we can beat them through their own game, without “playing down to them,” something Engel refuses to let us do. I play for the feeling that fills up inside of me when I see what I am able to accomplish with the 6 other girls in the water, and the other 3 who wait on the bench. Coming into the sectional quarterfinal, the only emotion that I can say would sum up our emotions would be “determined.” They had beaten us early in the season by one goal, and every time each of us remembered that gross, disgusting 5, blinking innocently on the away side of the score board, particularly in comparison to the measly 4 for home, we were filled with a reignited and new fiery anger and commitment. We were ready to meet them again and this time, come out on top. We had spent the last week in the water changing aspects of our game: our setup for man-up, the way we slide during defense, and who guards their shooters (3 and 13). We had spent two hours watching video of the first game, watching our mistakes and learning how to correct them. We jumped in the water, hands on the wall, and at the first whistle, the 7 of us sprinted off, ready for the win we had practiced for.

I play for the look on one of my best friend’s face as she learns that she had scored the game winning goal. It started when we set up in our “we must score” play, the shot had come, and it had bounced off the crossbar. Beth Ann swam in, and proceeded to push the ball into the goal. It was now 5-4 and there were 27 seconds to play, as Waubonsie once again had the ball. 3 seconds less than one full possession. They had all the time in the world to tie it again, and we would be playing overtime. They called a timeout and we all swam to the wall, hands out for water, all of us dead tired from 27 minutes and 33 seconds of all-in play. But here comes Beth Ann, her face lit up in a smile, and all of us jump her, our faces echoing hers, as her victory was ours too. It was a product of all of us, each pass, each stroke, and we all stared, lovingly, at the 5 that was lit up on the board, this time on our side, for we had come through, Beth Ann especially, and we had put one in together when it had counted. Soon enough, Waubonsie was set up, and here comes number 13, ready to shoot, only to be pounced upon by our sloughs, and me too, as all of us push her underwater, getting the turnover. There’s 17 seconds to go, and it’s our ball. We spread out, and get ready for the chase. They come at me, 8 seconds to play, and I give it to Mo, 4 seconds left, and then it comes back to me. 3,2,1 and the buzzer goes off. All that remains is the elated feeling of accomplishment. I can’t begin to tell you what it feels like, a win that was two months coming, but it's one of those feelings that you store in your mind for a cold, dreary day, and one that you would tell your kids about with a smile on your face, sharing what it means to be a team. We hop out of the pool, exhausted and overheating, and I am pulled into hug after hug after hug. This is what it means to be a team, we would tell our kids, it’s all of us wrapping our arms around each other in celebration, in happiness, and in achievement. It’s the equal sharing of said achievement over all of us, and basking in what it feels like to be a winner, together. Because for us, this is no regular sport. There are no star players, because that’s not how we work. If someone were to be in their own head, and hoarded the ball for themselves, they would never be able to accomplish what they could if they trusted the five other girls. And that’s what we do. We trust, and when we do, we succeed. For each of us are more powerful together, working like the parts of a well-oiled machine.

However, there are games that we don’t win, despite all the parts of our machine working in flawless tandem. I play for these games as well, though. I play for the hard games and the games that we don’t win. I play for the the desperation when we’re down by 1 at the half, and we are gearing up, ready to go and win the next half against Naperville Central. Because while we’re a team when we win, we are most especially a team when we lose. But this is not what happens for all teams. I’d like to think we’re rather unique in this matter as we share tears, half dressed hugs in the locker room, and sharing seats on the bus on the way home. We are the team huddled together, arms held around each other, while we celebrate what we were able to accomplish together. For this semifinal game was a game of such high emotion, dedicated play, and perseverance to the last millisecond. I had never seen our team play so hard, and this pride that filled up inside of me, for the girls that I was with and the program I was a part of, was why I play water polo. The loss was as heartbreaking as any loss, as it symbolized the end of a season and the end of this year’s team, but it was also the best display of our team that I have ever witnessed. It was us working as one organ, something vital, like a heart, instead of various separated parts.

But that is why we play, why I play. Not for the glory, the interview afterwards, or even the win, we play for the feeling that we get when it’s tied 4-4 and there’s 43 seconds to play. We play for our love of the game.