CHAPTER 17

They had one more domestic tour event before they’d fly to Italy to compete in one of the Beach Pro Tour qualifying events. This wouldn’t be the most important event of the qualification cycle, but it was worth ranking points in the FIVB World Ranking, which considered the twelve best performances achieved by a pair in an almost eighteen-month window prior to the Olympics, and the seventeen highest-ranked pairs would make up the majority of the total of twenty-four women’s teams that would be competing for the Olympic gold in the upcoming cycle.

Their event in Italy was one that would count for one of those seventeen spots, so to speak, meaning that if they were the top US pair, it would help their cause and all but assure their spot, although they still had to perform well in the other events in the meantime. Later that year, they had the FIVB Beach Volleyball World Championship, which, this cycle, would be held in Berlin, and that could do it for them, but only the winner automatically qualified for the next Olympics, so if they couldn’t win that one outright and stand at the top of that podium, they’d have to rely on either their long-term ranked performance or a win in their continental tour final, which would be a last-ditch attempt.

Aspen wasn’t too worried. She knew they could qualify. Yet, anything could happen, so she preferred not to have to wait until the last minute to qualify. Since only two teams per country could go through regardless of all of those qualification rules, and there were four teams all in a bunch at the top of the US standings, if one of them, other than Aspen and DJ, won the Berlin event, taking a spot, and another American team had the highest ranking among the seventeen, the continental event wouldn’t even matter, and it would be over for Aspen and DJ.

It was all so unnecessarily complicated in Aspen’s mind, and they were, of course, hoping to win in Berlin to lock down their spot and not have to worry about it as they played the other events, but where the US used to lead in beach volleyball, winning gold after gold on the women’s side – specifically during the era of Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh Jennings, when they won three gold medals in a row and had a record-breaking streak of wins in all events that went on and on and on – other countries had since caught up. There was a good chance a US team wouldn’t even win these events, which meant that the chance to qualify might not be there until the end.

Either way, Aspen shouldn’t be caring about any of that right now, and instead, she should be focusing on the actual pair they were playing against for their second match of this domestic tournament. Their opponent was already down by ten in the first set, with Aspen serving six points in a row. This team had come through the qualifier round, which was amazing because they’d made it this far, but they weren’t ready to go up against the best team on tour just yet.

Aspen remembered going through their round herself, and it had been rough. There had been extra matches, early-morning matches, midday-in-the-sun brutally-hot matches, late-night matches – all just to earn the next match that they’d probably lose. There had been teams that shouldn’t have been out there because they hadn’t been ready or just downright not good, throwing a winning team off balance; teams who had been amazing and could really kick ass if given the right opportunities. It was hard, so the fact that this team had made it to center court was in and of itself an accomplishment because both of them were just out of college, with this being their first season on top of everything else being stacked against them.

“Mine!” Aspen yelled.

She passed the ball up to DJ, who set her up for the shot.

“Cut! Cut!” she said after looking over at the other side of the net to see where the defender was set up.

Aspen swung for a cut shot, and it landed in the sand. They were now up by eleven points in the first set. The team across the net looked demoralized and exhausted, but they shouldn’t be demoralized. Exhausted, yeah – they’d played that morning just to get here. But they’d been playing well against Aspen and DJ. They hadn’t made any big or rookie mistakes. They were just outmatched.

Aspen rolled the ball in her hands, finding the lines on it and knowing just how to toss it and hit it against those lines to get the flattest serve possible, which was a difficult serve to play because it was sort of just dead when it hit the forearms of the defender. She tossed it, made a short jump to get a little height, and smacked the ball over the net. It hit just how she’d expected it would, and the pass up to their setter was as flat as her serve. The set was off a bit, and they had to tap it over. Aspen was there to pass it back up to DJ, who hit it over in two, finding a spot in the sand to tap it, and it landed there without issue.

“We should just forfeit,” one of the players said.

“Hey, no,” Aspen spoke. “Don’t do that. You’re playing great.”

“We’re losing by twelve. We have four points.”

“It’s your first season; you’ve made it this far. That’s awesome. And you’ve scored four points on the best team in the world. Not bragging. Just saying. Stay with it,” Aspen said and held her hand under the net. “I’ve been where you are. Stay with it, okay?”

The woman nodded and slapped Aspen’s hand. Aspen went back to serve and hit it into the net. She hadn’t done it on purpose, but she supposed it worked to give the other team a little confidence, and it wasn’t as if they could catch up, so there was no concern there. DJ shanked a pass on a particularly tricky serve then, and the other team got their sixth point and a little pep in their step.

“Shit,” DJ muttered.

“Don’t worry about it. Shake it off. Let’s go,” Aspen said.

They took their ready positions and earned a point. Then, another and another, until they were sitting at their bench, wiping sweat and sand off their skin and downing electrolytes to get ready for the second set.

“They’re not bad,” DJ said as the camera backed off, and they stood to go back on the court.

“Totally,” Aspen agreed. “Next season, they’ll be back here. Let’s still get the win, though. I don’t plan on going home early.” She winked at DJ.

“Not even to hang out with Kendra?” DJ said in her new sing-song teasing voice.

“First of all, no.” Aspen pointed and smiled at her. “Second of all, she’s here, so I don’t need to go home early to see her sooner.”

“But you’re good?” DJ asked.

“Now, DJ? Really?” Aspen chuckled.

“Not like I have to concentrate all that hard on this match.”

“No, don’t do that.” Aspen stood in front of her and covered her mouth in case any camera was on them, which was likely. “Don’t do that,” she repeated. “Practice how you play. We have to have our heads in the game here, DJ. We’ve got Italy next and Berlin. Play like we’re there right now.”

“You’re right,” DJ agreed. “No more shanked passes or service errors.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Aspen held her hands up, and DJ slapped them.

They took their ready positions, waited for the other team to serve, and it was a good serve that hit the line next to Aspen. She’d expected it to go out, but it hadn’t.

“Well, looks like they came to play, too,” DJ said and nodded toward the other team.

“Good,” Aspen replied and readied herself again.

The next serve hit her arms, and she prepared her run-up for the kill, watching where the defender went for that split second before DJ set her up.

“Nobody,” DJ said because the blocker had backed off the net.

Aspen slammed the ball down in the sand between the two players, and the crowd roared at that. Normally, Aspen didn’t even hear the cheering from the stands because she was so engrossed in the match itself, but that time, she heard it, and she smiled. She gave DJ a high five for a great set and looked over the net.

“Nice one,” the player she’d talked to earlier said with a laugh.

“Thanks,” Aspen said with a little laugh and waited for DJ to serve.

They were up fifteen to ten, which meant that this had turned into a real match, and they both had to pay attention, hit their shots, and worry about the details. Aspen loved that. Easy matches weren’t her thing. She wanted the real deal; the chance to get ready for international matches that would determine if she got to represent her country in the Olympic Games, which had been her dream for as long as she could remember. They got the ball back off a great hit by her partner, and Aspen went to serve with six points up now. She checked DJ’s hand signal telling her where she’d be blocking and aimed for the taller of the two partners. The pass was good. The set was good. The kill went straight into DJ’s hands and down into the sand on the other side of the net.

“Hell, yeah!” Aspen said of her partner’s block and high-fived her.

Up by seven, with four points left to earn to win the set and the match, Aspen served a hard jumper that the other team wasn’t ready for since she’d primarily been giving them floaters, and it landed in the sand just inside the line. With them up by eight now and at eighteen points, there wasn’t much the other team could do to win, so Aspen tried another aggressive serve, not worried if she earned an error because it was a chance to test it out. It went to the defender, who shanked it, but the other player managed to dig it out, and they sent a free ball over the net. It went just over the net, though, and DJ was right there to slam it back down.

Two points away from the win, Aspen went aggressive again and earned another ace. While she waited for the ball, she took a moment, which she rarely did, to look around the stands. People usually stood for set and match points, and they were all getting to their feet now, screaming, cheering, and applauding. When she took her spot behind the line again, everything got quiet in anticipation. Aspen rolled the ball around in her hands, waited for the whistle, and then tossed it high, jumped in the air, and smacked the ball hard before she landed in front of the line and hurried to her spot, prepared to cover DJ on the block. The ball didn’t come back over the net, though. They’d won, and they were moving on.

“Hey, good game,” DJ said to the pair across the net.

“Really? You killed us.” One of them laughed and shook DJ’s hand.

“Seriously. You two just need more time. You’ll get there. You made, like, no unforced errors. Do you know how hard that is? I made service errors today. You had none. That’s not easy.”

“Thanks,” the young woman replied and moved to shake DJ’s hand while the other partner shook Aspen’s.

“Great match,” Aspen said.

“Thanks. You too. You guys are amazing.”

“Thank you,” Aspen replied.

They shook the refs’ hands next and made their way over to their bench, where Aspen saw Kendra waiting for them.

“Can you take this one?” DJ asked.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t feel like it. I’m mad at myself for a few of my kills that didn’t land. I need to go listen to loud music and go over them in my head.”

“Yeah, okay,” Aspen replied.

She ran a towel over her face quickly and walked over to Kendra, who was ready for her.

“Aspen, that was a great match for you two. How are you and DJ feeling right now?”

“Pretty good. They gave us a hard time and came out of a tough qualifier round, so I know how tired they had to be, but it was a great match.”

“I noticed you saying something to one of the players during the first set. Can you tell us anything about that?”

Aspen lifted her eyebrow at the apparently observant Kendra.

“Yeah, I just told them they were playing well and to keep it up. I know the scoreboard might not look like they made it hard for us today, but they did. We hit some good spots, which any team would have a hard time bringing back over the net, and they played a three-set tight match this morning against a tough team to get here, so the fact that they were out there making things hard for us was awesome. I just wanted them to know that.”

“You’ve got the semifinals coming up, and I noticed your partner heading for the tent just now. Any injury worries there?”

“No, DJ likes to get in some time to reflect on the match and get ready for the next one. No injuries. We’re both good and ready for the semis.”

“Thanks, Aspen. Great match. And good luck in the next round.” Kendra turned her eyes to the camera and added, “Aspen and DJ will be back in action tomorrow, in the semifinals, against one of the two other top teams on the tour. We’ll be here watching as well. Join us at seven Eastern, four Pacific to watch the showdown.” She smiled at the camera for a minute before turning to Aspen. “We’re good.”

“Showdown? Really?” Aspen teased.

“What did you really say to her?” Kendra asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You said something else, too.”

“Do you read lips, Kendra Bowie?”

“No, but I know you well enough by now. She said something first. What was it? This is just me asking, not the reporter in me.”

“She wanted to forfeit. I told her not to, following the other stuff I already mentioned before.” Aspen shrugged.

Kendra smiled and said, “Of course, you did.”