Friday, July 1, 2016

Chapters

I’m not going to the Olympics.

This is the reality of our sport and the story you don’t see on TV—we have 25 players on our Women’s National Team and we can only send 12. We’ve all trained, all made sacrifices, all worked for years together knowing the whole time that there’s a chance we won’t see our names on that final roster. But knowing what we’re getting into doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I think it probably always will.

In the week or so after I learned I wouldn’t be in Rio I was sad and I cried but more than anything else I felt lost. Adrift. Like I had been on a four-year long voyage and we were finally nearing our destination when someone told me—actually, you don’t need to go the rest of the way. After four years of focusing solely on navigating this path, it was just over. I had put my heart into this and I just didn’t know how to take it back out.

But at some point, as the days have gone by, I realized that I’m still me. Being an Olympian would’ve changed my life but it never had the power to change that. Who I am has already been defined, not by the rosters I’ve made or the medals hanging in my room, but by the way I tried to approach every day—ready to work, to learn, and to serve my team in any way I could.

I gave everything—everything—I had, in the pursuit of this dream.  And I say that not with bitterness but with conviction and with pride. I don’t regret one moment of it and I will not hang my head. Because dreaming big dreams, going all in and then falling just short doesn’t make you a failure. The failure lies in holding back and staying small.

So half of my teammates and I will watch from afar as our Olympic team goes after a medal in Rio. And I absolutely hope that they get it. This is my family. They represent everything that we’ve built and struggled for over the last four years. I love them, I wish them all the success and I will forever be grateful to be a part of Team USA.

And as for me—this isn’t where my story ends. This was just one chapter. One surreal, challenging, fantastic chapter. Now it’s time to write the next one.


Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Human Beings

Two sisters from Tanzania visited our gym last week to watch practice and share their stories. Bibiana and Tindi Mashamba are albino. In Tanzania and some other African countries there are people who believe that the body parts of albinos possess magical powers. Six years ago, just days after they had buried their father, some of those people broke into the home where Bibiana and Tindi slept. They cut off one of Bibiana’s legs and two of her fingers. She was eleven years old. Tindi, a year younger, saw the whole thing and was only spared the same fate when the attackers ran before the neighbors could respond to the noise.

Thanks to the African Millennium Foundation, the Mashamba sisters have been relocated to Los Angeles where they can study and Bibiana can get medical treatment. They hope to get an education and share their story to bring awareness to the problems that albinos face in their country. When she talked to us, Bibiana said multiple times, “We are human beings. We are no different than you.” Because when it comes down to it, that's the only reason they were attacked: they look different.

Now, we can all agree that these were inexcusable and heinous acts that were committed. But, don’t we all violate these same principles all the time? How often do we attack someone, even in minor ways, just because they are different? We see their skin or their name or what god they pray to and immediately cast them as the “other”. We draw imaginary lines and call them borders and act as if the people inside them matter more than the ones on the outside. As if being born in a different place, with a different pigment, with a different culture automatically puts us at odds.


I don’t understand how you can ever look at another person and see anything less than yourself—anything other than someone with struggles and dreams, trying to make a path in this world. We don’t need to make it harder for each other. We are all human beings-- you, me and two albino sisters from Tanzania with huge smiles on their faces, watching volleyball for the first time. 



For more information you can check out the LA Times article on the Mashambas' story here and the African Millennium Foundation here.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

A Man in Azerbaijan

There’s a man in Azerbaijan whose job it is to stand out on the sidewalk in a busy intersection and direct cars that are trying to park. When I played in Baku I saw him every day as we stopped by in the van to pick up my teammates on the way to practice. I don’t know his name or his story. I don’t even know if he ever saw me, sitting in the second seat and looking out the window, headphones in my ears. But I know that every single day that we pulled up to the sidewalk—in the rain, in the biting cold, on the one day that it snowed—there was a man there with a smile on his face and a cheerful greeting for our driver.

And I know that there’s a middle-aged woman working as a cashier at a grocery store in Poland with light purple streaks in her blond hair who will help you count out your change. I know there’s a waitress in a little town in the mountains of Switzerland who might be persuaded to give you the leftover desserts if you hint at it every once in a while. I know there’s a Turkish man in the French Riviera who makes a kebab that tastes like it’s straight from Istanbul. I know there’s a man who makes noodles at a hotel in China who will make them with just a hint of spice for those who can’t handle the full ladle of red pepper sauce that the native population uses.

I think about those people sometimes. I wonder if they’re still there and if they ever noticed that I’m not. Did they realize at some point that the American girl who used to come by stopped coming? Probably not. We weren’t friends. We didn’t speak the same languages. I couldn’t ask them about their lives or their families. But each of them still made a positive impact on my life, fleeting as our interactions may have been.


The thing is, we’re all constantly passing through somebody’s life. Those people make me think about the impact I have on each person I see…and on the ones I don’t. It’s admirable to be good to your friends and your family and even your coworkers. But I think an even greater goal is to live your life in such a way that any person passing through it, however peripherally, is impacted for the better. And maybe all that means sometimes is doing your job with a smile on your face, even on a rainy day.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

Team First

Many people are now on the verge of starting with another team for a whole new club season. I imagine just as many people are currently crossing their fingers for a drama-free year. But managing a group of people without conflict is a tricky business. Here's an article I wrote a while ago on some of the ways I think have helped me and my teams through the process.


Team First

My junior year at Stanford I wanted to take a seminar on conflict resolution. It was a small class and had double the enrollment the professors wanted so they asked each of us to send them a few paragraphs on why they should take us in the class and our background in the subject. I gave them a brief rundown on my academic history and why I was interested in the class from that standpoint. Then I told them that I have spent a good portion of the last decade dealing with large groups of girls, ages 12-22, in highly pressurized, highly competitive environments. So yes, I had some background in conflict resolution...


Read more


Monday, August 10, 2015

Pixar and the Pursuit of Excellence

I love Pixar. Let’s be honest, we all love Pixar. They made a movie about a trash compactor robot that invokes more feeling and empathy than most humans I’ve watched on screen. I’m not even going to talk about the first ten minutes of “Up”. Every time a new Pixar movie comes out I wonder how they can do it again. And every time they deliver. They don’t just recreate the magic, they create it anew.

Now you could assume that their seemingly unending success has been born of sheer talent. And they certainly don’t lack in that. Helmed by the genius of John Lasseter and Ed Catmull, Pixar employs a horde of the best in the animation business. But their brilliance lies not just in their ability to tell stories or their vision in regards to the technological future of their industry but in the creation of an environment that deems excellence as the ultimate goal.

I say that it is the ultimate goal because excellence is not a happening, but a process. The people of Pixar are the first to admit that their movies do not start out as masterpieces. They start as an idea, rough and partially formed, that little by little is transformed into the works that we love. This road to excellence requires the willingness to fall on your face and the resilience to get back up and correct the mistake. It requires a constant vigilance in shaking off complacency in the face of success. And when you’ve done everything right, it means going back and figuring out how to do it even better.

When I read about what Pixar has done I find a lot of parallels between their company and our USA program. We’re both trying to be the best in the world at something. But it’s not just about being better than the opponents or winning each game; we want to play the game better than it’s ever been played. To do that, we have to commit to that process of excellence. We know that there is no greatness without failure so we embrace it. We know that the comfort zone is a dangerous place to be so we consciously leave it. And that commitment is program- (or company) wide. It only works when each member buys in and takes ownership of the idea that we are about something bigger than any one of us.

Whatever I end up doing in my life, these are the kind of environments I want to be a part of. These are the kinds of people I want to surround myself with—people who are striving for excellence in whatever they do. Because it’s with that energy and passion and intent that we actively shape our world. Even if it’s in the form of an animated trash compactor just looking for love… 


(I’d recommend both the documentary The Pixar Story and Catmull’s book Creativity, Inc for a behind the scenes look into the magic of Pixar. And if you haven’t seen Inside Out, go now)

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Raise Us All

There were fans yelling racist insults at our match last week. At a volleyball match. Women speaking out about women's rights are being threatened every day. Because they dared to champion equality. We're constantly losing LGBT youth to suicide. In a world that doesn't accept them they don't know how to accept the world. And I can't understand. I actually cannot understand how people can see the differences in other people as proof of their own superiority. How they can believe that their intolerance leaves them standing on the moral high ground. We can be so much better. That's where this comes from...


Raise Us All

Lower your hands
Your pitchforks, your knives
Step out of the angry mob
Long enough to see the ignorance that begets the hate
To see that you are acting in a false self-defense
That those you wield your weapons against, wield none
Their differences, their choices, their happiness don’t wound you
The only poison that may threaten you is that of your own hatred
Lower your hands
And raise your compassion

Lower your voice
And listen
When everyone is yelling, no one can hear
The power of your voice comes not from its volume
Or its ability to inflict pain
But from its ability to inspire another
Shouts and insults are not the tools of inspiration
And you cannot make someone listen if you will not
Lower your voice
And raise your ear

Lower your eyes
Stop looking at everyone else around you
Searching for his sins, his faults, his differences
Look inside yourself instead
Examine your heart and ask yourself
If you like what you find
If you are being the person that you want to be
If the world is better off for your place in it
Lower your eyes
And raise your heart

Lower yourself
Step down off of your pedestal
And stand next to your fellow human beings
No matter their color
Man, woman or other
Whoever they love
None of these things makes them worse or you better
We only find the best of ourselves when we come together
Lower yourself
And raise humanity

When you have lowered your hands, your voice, your eyes, yourself
And done your best to bring some light into the world
Then—

Raise your hands
To aid the one beside you who has stumbled
Raise your voice
In the service of another’s cause
Raise your eyes
And look for the beauty around you
Raise yourself
And it will raise us all