Tuesday night, I'll be sitting in the stands at Walnut Hills High School when the Eagles' volleyball team hosts Fairfield. Nothing unusual there, I've been to every Walnut game for the past three years. There will be one difference, however. Kate Thompson won't be playing.

Kate Thompson (second from left) with senior teammates Rachel Agnew (left), Carrie Merkel and Elizabeth Cook. | ZOOM |

        My daughter will be sitting on the bench with her right wrist in a cast, watching as her senior season ticks away.

        Volleyball is just a game, only slightly more important than pro football or baseball to right-thinking people. And there are plenty of things to keep Kate busy: pondering college choices, studying, working part-time and seeing every movie the week that it opens.

        But volleyball is special. She has been playing on school teams for 10 years, plus she has played Junior Olympic (the equivalent of select soccer) for three years. That's a big piece of life when you're 17.

THE AUTHOR

Bill Thompson is a Features copy editor. He left the Sports Department years ago so he could attend his daughters' games. He's looking forward to the junior-high volleyball season when Jane Thompson will play for Walnut Hills.

        I'm not telling secrets when I say that Kate is not a great natural athlete. But through desire and determination, she made herself a good volleyball player.

        It wasn't an auspicious start. When Kate signed up for her third-grade team, she had never stepped onto a volleyball court. She had never hit the ball over a net. She accomplished the former at the first practice, but it took most of that season for her (and her teammates) to grasp the complexities of the sport (don't let the ball hit the floor on your side; make it hit the floor on the opponent's side).

        Through the years, Kate played on some pretty good teams, some average teams and a couple that still make us laugh. But gradually, she started to get it — “it” being that moment when an athlete reacts instinctively instead of having to think about her next move.

        Her mother and I smiled when we watched her tell teammates where to line up and where to go when the ball was served. We cringed when she started serving overhand and could barely get the ball to the net. We whooped it up when she turned that once-weak serve into the strongest part of her game.

        At some point, Kate wanted to play in college. I don't know that she has given up on that entirely, but she's nothing if not a realist. After years of watching 6-foot-tall girls drill balls at her head — it almost reaches 5-foot-5 when she piles her hair on top — she went back to her grade school and coached third-graders for two seasons. She found a way she could stay involved with the game when her competitive days were finished.

        We were excited about this season. Nine players returned from last year's varsity; all the girls were a little stronger, a little more mature and ready to even the score with some of the teams that had beaten up on them in the past.

An untimely break

        But almost before it started, it was over. Kate hurt her wrist during a tournament in May. Nothing serious, we thought, just sore after she played. It was no surprise that it bothered her more during the two-a-day practices in August when the team practiced for as many as five hours.

        We were stunned, however, when the doctor said Kate had fractured a bone, and he wanted to put a cast on it immediately. She asked how long she would be out. Six weeks.

        The whole season. Her senior season.

        She couldn't do it. Against the doctor's advice, she decided to try to play. If she taped it tight, iced it after practice and games, and wore a brace the rest of the day, she could make it for six weeks. After all, the pain had been going away soon after she played.

Something's wrong

        But last Monday night was different. Walnut opened the season with a tri-match against Newport Central Catholic and Mercy. The Eagles played NewCath first and almost won the second game. It would have been a great way to start the year.

        But NewCath prevailed, and as the girls gathered around coach Tim Mersch to regroup before facing Mercy, Kate's mom immediately knew something was wrong.

        “She's hurting,” Janinne said.

        I knew it, too, without even looking across the court where she stood crying in the arms of her friend and teammate Myrita Craig. Her season, her last one, was over.

        I had been proud of her when she told the doctor that she was going to try to play through the pain. I was more proud of her when she realized that it was time to heal.

        Share recent moments in your life by mail: In My Life, c/o The Cincinnati Enquirer; fax: 768-8330; e-mail: nberlier@enquirer.com.
       

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