As I sat in the library one ordinary day during my sophomore year, my friends hustled in with a most disturbing message: a peer of mine had disrespected the Lowell boys’ volleyball team. Struck with dismay, I felt personally attacked and reeled back in my chair, hyperventilating. As a two-year veteran of the team and a great fan of the sport, I felt enraged and, worst of all, criticized by ignorant people who probably could not spike to the competition even if they had a two-foot high net. According to my friends, this peer had watched the team practice for a mere few minutes, then claimed that we were unathletic and that the sport was a joke. I realized that not enough people appreciate the manly art of men’s volleyball and was filled with a passion to prove everyone wrong.

In volleyball, a play lasts for only 10 seconds on average, which means that every second I spend on the court must be dedicated to keeping the ball in the air or helping my teammates slam it down to the ground.

While most students use social networking sites like Facebook to procrastinate, watching volleyball on YouTube is my escape. I watch old videos titled “2008 Men’s Olympic Volleyball Gold” or “133 Digs in 3 Minutes” so that I can emulate an Olympian’s moves. I maintain the hope, whether inspiring or ridiculous, that I may also play just as strongly and become worthy of a medal one day, even if just on the school court. Whether it is breaking a sweat when I run or using extreme focus to study an opposing team’s moves, my life revolves around improving my volleyball skills.

What most people don’t understand about the sport is that volleyball makes players feel stronger and more powerful than they had ever imagined. Even when a ball is yards away, I always dive or sprawl out to save it from hitting the floor. If I am unable to keep the ball alive, I a least know that I did everything in my power, but when I do dig a ball that had seemed nearly impossible to even touch, intense euphoria erupts. When I get that save, I know that I am doing what everyone around me doubted could be done, that I can defy gravity, and show people my power. When people, like the student from the library, judge my team based on false assumptions, I know that I can prove them wrong by never giving up on my mental and athletic ability.

I am proud to be a volleyball player. In all honesty, it can be embarrassing at times because I must face the immediate, ignorant reactions of others who have never pushed themselves in a sport they are passionate for. If they had, they would cheer, not criticize. But those judgments mean nothing. It is the brotherhood and unity of my teammates that matter. It is our competitive desire to be the best that drives each of us to win games, to earn the AAA 2010 City Championship trophy. After every play, after every game, and after every season, the only opinion that I care about is demonstrated through the obnoxious cheering, competitive yelling and enthusiastic high-fiving of my teammates.

A version of this article first appeared in the Feb. 25, 2011 print edition of The Lowell.

Illustration by Monica Zhang