As I sat in the passenger seat riding home from my daughter’s varsity volleyball game, I could feel my body getting tired. It had been an emotionally draining day, and I had an early flight to Vegas the next morning that I wasn’t quite prepared for. The GPS said it would take nearly an hour to get home, and I was restless. Fortunately, I now have a teenage chauffeur to shuttle us around at all hours of the day (one of the perks of having older kids). So I sat back in my seat and stared out into the night.
It was already well past 8pm, and I had a lot on my mind. Less than 24 hours earlier, I’d joined a group of startup founders for the kickoff of my third founder accelerator program. Fortunately, I spotted a couple of familiar faces: a funder and a fellow founder from another network. But here I was, wondering how I’d arrived back at the startup phase with yet another venture. For most folks in the room, this was their first venture, and the excitement was palpable. I remember that feeling. Everything feels possible, until suddenly your brilliant ideas come face to face with the reality of the market.
If I’m being honest, I expected to feel more jaded than I did. But something happens when you find yourself in community with people who are pushing and striving just like you: you’re reminded how much you need a community to build with. What are you building? was the question I heard most often at the launch event. It was kind of exciting to answer, because I’m building a few things. And it’s a much better question than what do you do for a living? At any rate, I left the evening inspired, not only about what our team is building, but also about the prospect of growing my community of builders.
But like most of our lives, my work life doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Even as I’m embarking on a shift in my professional life, the very next day I got to show up for my daughter at the regional championships for her high school varsity volleyball team. Here’s the thing: it’s been a long journey to get here. We suffered (and yes, I include the parents in this suffering) through two winless seasons as our school built the program from scratch. Most of the girls had never even played the sport before joining their teams, including three of my daughters. But last year, they finally got their first taste of success with a winning season. After losing in the first round of the playoffs, they vowed to come back better and win a regional championship.
Over the past year, I’ve had a front row seat to the growing work ethic of my daughters Olivia, a freshman starter on varsity, and London, a starter on the middle school team. London’s season ended this past Saturday in heartbreaking fashion, in the first round of the playoffs. Something tells me this won’t be the end of their story. Most of that team was new to the sport, and they have years of middle school left to compete.
The varsity team, though, is made up of veterans from last year’s squad. They played all season with a chip on their shoulders and a reminder that they had unfinished work to complete. And they were not to be denied. For the most part, they steamrolled through the competition in their region. Their only loss all season was a hard-fought road match against an out-of-region opponent that I hope we see again at state.
Thursday was the regional playoff bracket, which meant our school community caravanned down to middle Georgia midday. It felt like attending a track meet (another one of my spring parental pastimes) because it was an all-day affair. Our first match started at 2:45, and if we won, the regional championship would take place at 5:30. As has sometimes been our habit this season, the team “played with their food” for a bit, letting the opponent hang around for a few points before putting their foot on the gas and winning in straight sets, each by 15 or more points. Our coach’s mantra all season has been play to our standard, not the opponent. This is how you build championship mettle.
The championship match was a different story. The first set started off innocently enough, with our team taking a large lead. But it took us a while to close them out, and you could tell the girls were getting tense, making a few uncharacteristic mistakes. By the second set, we were in trouble, because we’d given the other team the confidence to make a run. Even though we’d built a wide lead, they had a superstar player who torched us with a string of aces, and before you knew it, we were only up by two. Then one. Then the score was tied at 23-23. We’d been so close to set point, and now the momentum was on their side.
For the next several points, both teams battled back and forth, each reaching set point but unable to close it out. This is volleyball’s version of overtime, because of course you have to win by two. Everyone was on their feet. By then I could no longer sit in the stands. I was up pacing the sidelines like I usually do during games. I call this my dad pacing. At some point, Olivia was subbed back in to serve after sitting on the bench for a few plays. She’s usually pretty consistent with her serve. This time, I guess she was in her head. It didn’t go well. I could tell she wanted nothing to do with that moment. Her teammates tried to console her, but she brushed them off, along with her coach’s frustration on the sideline. I knew that more than anything, she was pissed at herself.
That’s when I started to worry. What if they actually lose this set? I wondered about their morale, and their ability to pick themselves back up. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wonder too long. As the momentum swung back their way, they started doing the little things again: communicating, hustling, staying in position. They closed out the championship in the third set, winning pretty handily. But it was the second set that proved their championship mettle, and in the process, broke their opponent’s spirit.
Now it’s on to state championships next week. I’m told that when I return home, the girls have 2 rounds of state playoffs, one on Tuesday and possibly another on Saturday if Tuesday goes well. Locations, times, etc all TBD. I’m ready to go, even if it means inevitably re-arranging my schedule again. This time I’m planning for two days, because they’ve still got some unfinished business to attend to.
Speaking of unfinished business, I’m on a flight to Vegas to address some of my own. A few weeks ago, I was named a finalist in TFA’s 35th Anniversary pitch competition for alumni building innovative ed-tech products. While we’re at the beginning of our venture’s journey, it’s a dream I’ve been cultivating for years. And now, on a stage in Las Vegas, it’s time to tell the world about it.
Like I told my daughter last night, when I get up on that stage in a few short hours, it’s not simply about winning seed money or even beating the competition (though both would be awesome). It’s actually about appreciating the moment that I’m in, and everything that brought me to this point. The best thing about unfinished business, is that when you know what you’re building, you can always take the next step.
Today’s mine, let’s see where it leads me. And like the girls reminded me, good luck on that stage today. Play to your standard, not the opponent.
SDW3
