When the volleyball flew off her arms and sailed towards the gym floor, I remained bewildered. “This was not part of the plan,” I thought. This was not the image I depicted in my mind. This was not the dream I was striving for.

This was the nightmare.

My knees fell to the floor, my shoulders slumped and my face collapsed into my hands. The score was 25-18 and we had lost the game. We had lost the prestigious final of the high school girls volleyball Tournament of Champions, the game that my team is always destined to win.

No one knew what to say, where to go or how to go about the situation. This was foreign to us because we were not accustomed to losing, especially a championship that we win every year.

We gathered in a circle and stood in silence. What was there to say? The game was over and there was nothing any of us could do to change the outcome. My coach proceeded to speak about next year’s team and how “We didn’t work hard enough.”

Again, I remained bewildered.

How was it possible for any of us to work any harder than we did? We not only had to face the challenge of competing against a team that consisted of more height, more experience and stronger defense, but also had to overcome adversity. My team was number one in the state and everyone in the state was waiting for the day that my team would drop down to number two. Reporters from the local newspapers, high school coaches, and even the players from other teams underestimate us every year. Everyone, every year, wants us to lose. And this year so did one of our very own players.

One of my teammates selfishly caused drama amongst the team in attempt at persuading my coach to change the lineup. She was unhappy with her new role on the team and decided that her own needs were more important than the team succeeding. “At this point, I want us to lose,” she admitted. And now, due to our loss, everyone is aware that she got what she wanted. We lost and she could now utter the clichéd, “I told you so,” to my coach or any teammates that doubted her. However, there is one aspect of this nightmare that everyone neglected to take into account.

We are still champions.

Although the final score was 25-18, my coach believed that “we didn’t work hard enough,” and my teammate was able to say, “I told you so,” we are still champions.

According to Webster’s dictionary, the definition of a champion is, “A person who fights for a cause on behalf of someone else.” In my opinion, this definition applies to us. Although we did not win the game, we fought for our cause. Despite the doubts others had and the bitterness my teammate exemplified, we fought to make it to the finals and managed to stay united. It would have been so easy to allow for the team to fall apart like so many people were expecting us to, but instead we proved everyone wrong. We fought for each other and even though we lost, our accomplishments were still note-worthy. Before this loss we had beat the number one team in the state of Nevada, we made it to the county semi-final, and we won the non-public state championship. Even though we lost the Tournament of Champions and lost our number one ranking, these accomplishments prove that we never stopped fighting. Despite the hardships, the drama, and the adversity, we are still champions.

So now when anyone asks me how I thought my high school volleyball season was, my response is, “bittersweet.” Even though we lost our championship title, we discovered how mentally strong we are individually and how together, we are capable of achieving so much. We are capable of becoming champions. And whether or not it was part of the plan is no longer important because life is not always according to plan. Sometimes life “throws you a curveball” so you have to face your fears and show the world you are ready for it. Although it may seem like a nightmare, the only way to become a champion is to wake up and fight for your cause.