Cleaning out a career

I realized something today.

My volleyball career is over. And, yes, I understood this on Saturday night when my team lost in the Conference Championship, but it really hit me today. Why, you may ask?

I cleaned out my locker.

Trivial, but in actuality, that locker room has been the hub for my Central career. Four years worth of funny locker room stories, celebrations, condolences, team talks, singing in the showers, rocking out to everything from Celine Dion to Justin Bieber. It's where I got ready to play.

It's not like my entire volleyball career happened at Central. I have been playing since the 7th grade. Year-round, in fact. But the most significant part of my career happened there. The most memorable and exciting parts were at Central. The most disappointing and heartbreaking were there, too. The hundreds of practices and countless tournaments I participated in have been mounting towards this anti-climactic moment.  

As I was going through my things, I realized I wouldn't need a lot of it again. My volleyball shoes which I had bought just for this year because I beat the crap out of my shoes last year. My knee pads which are at least four years old, reek beyond belief, and are stained yellow because of sweat. My ankle braces which are no longer white, but stained brown and yellow. These things hold so much value for me, and I never realized it before. Why would these things mean so much to me? 

I piled all of these things as well as extra spandex, socks, underwear, shampoo, etc. into a flimsy, plastic Walmart bag. I gave back my lock and practice shirt. And I walked out the door. It felt terrible to know that I would never have to go back in. And as I went outside, I put up my umbrella (because it is ridiculously rainy) and carried my heaps of things. Two steps out the door, the plastic bag broke and my things tumbled out, spilling all over the wet concrete. I hurriedly put down the umbrella and stuffed my shoes and knee pads back into the bag. But, I no longer had hands for the umbrella. So, I walked back to my room in the cold rain with my volleyball past in my arms. 

The irony was not lost on me. 

I dumped my stuff in my room, and I immediately began to write this post. I'm looking at my wet jeans from where I held all of my wet things close to my body, and my hair is curling around my face. And I wonder why this means so much to me. Stuff is just stuff. But it is what they represent. Before every game and practice I put those shoes and knee pads on. I ran in those shoes and dived in those knee pads. They represent my work and my career as a volleyball player. Those memories I have are not dependent on those things. Sure, I may be reminded of my times playing, but I will always have those memories. With or without my shoes.

Today, I pulled my name tag off of the top of my locker. I've done it before, but every year I knew I would see it again. I looked at my last name on the paper, and I thought about saving it for a moment, just to remind me of the amazing times I had. Instead, I walked towards the garbage can, crumpled up the paper, and threw it in. It was just a piece of paper.