Predators 10th Anniversary Guest Speaker

10 years ago I was one of you, sitting at the KW Predators first ever banquet. I was 20 pounds skinnier, all arms and leg and full of excitement for my next adventure at the university of Kentucky. Since that day I have represented Canada at multiple international tournaments and played professionally at two positions in 3 countries over 5 seasons. But my story is far from what one would expect from a high level professional athlete.

Despite appearances today, my story is of an underdog coming out on top. As a kid I was never the athlete. I couldn't ride a bike until I was 11 and I got cut from every rep team I tried out for. Even volleyball, that I was constantly surrounded by, was a challenge for me. I attended my father's camps and was consistently one of the worst players in my group. Regardless when I was entering 6th grade my parents allowed me to start playing club volleyball. While I remember this season fondly I can now see my parents must remember it a little different. What I remember is looking forward to practice every Thursday and Sunday. Goofing around with new friends, spending time with my parents who coached me and spending hours trying to serve a ball over the net. I also remember trying over and over to perfect skills with almost no success. I spent most tournaments comfortably sitting on a wood bench hoping my team would play well enough that I'd get a chance to step on the floor. With no exaggeration whatsoever I was the worst player on my team.  I knew it, my parents knew it and my team knew it. But that didn't mean I wasn't improving. It didn't stop me from working hard every minute I had the chance to and it didn't stop me from being a good and supportive teammate.

 At the end of my first season I vividly remember my parents gently sitting me down and letting me know they would be ok if I didn't want to continue playing volleyball. I had no idea why this conversation was happening. Why would I chose to leave my team? I loved playing even if it wasn't pretty, I enjoyed going to the gym and working hard and while they may not have known it, I knew I would be going onto play university volleyball some day. And so, they continued to coach me and I continued to work hard. I took every opportunity to play. I would hit the balls against a wall, practice my foot work in the hallways trying to touch the ceiling and I would volley while laying watching tv. I put everything I had into being good enough to step on the court. And for years it wasn't enough. In my first 2.5 years of club I spent more time on the bench than any other player on my team. 

Finally going into 9th grade I was starting to over hand serve a ball consistently. In what seemed like an over night miracle all my hours of practice finally started clicking into place. I became a starter on both my club and high school teams. Many of the girls who once were considered the best in Ontario started falling behind. This small successes for made me hungry for more. My summers were filled with volleyball. I attended all the high performance centers, my father's camps and found any excuse to play that I could. All of that volleyball didn't leave me with much time. But I had made my choice. Instead of school dances, movies and weekend get togethers I was in the gym working towards where I wanted to be. Thankfully for me, all the missed parties and sleep overs eventually paid off when I signed to attend the University of Kentucky. 

Even today when I run into coaches who knew me in my OVA years they raise and eye brow in surprise when I tell them I am playing as a professional. No one expected me to do what I'm doing today. What these acquaintances never witnessed were the years of work spent laying a foundation. While it wasn't obvious that I was improving I was quietly setting myself up for success. The perfect analogy for this is of the Chinese bamboo plant. When a farmer plants a seed for a bamboo tree they water it with care all year. But after months they see no growth. The following year they continue to water and care for the seed devotedly. Yet again no growth is seen. This continues for five years. The farmer waters and tends the seed that was planted waiting patiently for it to break the earth never seeing any growth. But the farmer has faith that all their devotion is working. Suddenly after five years the bamboo plant shoots up 80 meters. Had the farmer lost faith and patience and stopped tending his bamboo it would not have built its root system that allowed it to grow to 80 meters when the time came. Like the bamboo plant volleyball is the same. While you sit on the bench, struggle with a skill or fight for perfection never lose faith that your hard work will pay off. Also remember that when you're on top there is always someone working hard to catch up to you, so you have to work just as hard.

 

In closing I can't speak at the 10th anniversary of the Predators without mentioning my father and Russ Woloshyn and the executive committee. 10 years ago they also took a risk. They had a vision of running an elite club. From our developmental programs to our club teams they wanted kW to have a club that encouraged excellence. When they chose to split from the Tigers many people in the province didn't think it was a good move. There weren't  many clubs in that time and many questioned why anyone would leave a successful club to start their own. The executive we have today all supported and joined in this dream as well as many coaches from around the region. Being a part of the original 18u team it warms my heart seeing how the hard work of the executive and coaches has paid off. The club has grown and gotten better every season. It takes time just like an other worthwhile venture but the athletes and coaches we have this season have proven that the Predators are a club to respect and feared on the other side of the net. I'd like to congratulate the executive on the massive accomplishment it is to have grown such a successful club that offers so many opportunities for young players. It is something to celebrate.

Hybrid Player

Dabrowa Gornicza

When I sit back and consider the last five years of my life, I am in shock about where I am today. As I've said to many friends, after graduating in 2012 I was ready to hang up my court shoes and move on. Now 5 years, 3 countries and 2 positions later, I am still playing volleyball without any idea of what I'd do without it. What is most confusing to many who are unaware of my career prior to arriving in Europe, is how I made the sudden switch to opposite. After playing middle professionally and with Team Canada, how and why could I make the sudden change? The truth is, it wasn't as 'out of the blue' as it seems. Growing up I played every position. From middle to setter, my father made me do it all. While it seems a little unconventional in today's volleyball world, I played just about every position until I left for university. Because of my father's commitment to my development as a volleyball player, instead of as a middle blocker, I was able to gain skills I would have missed out on otherwise. It's also because of my developmental years, that when I was being recruited to the NCAA it wasn't always clear what I was being recruited to as.

Kentucky 2010

After my first season as a middle at Kentucky the team started getting creative. Just as when I was playing at home, I was never a 'true' middle, my coach liked to refer to players without a clear position as hybrid players. For two seasons we played a three middle system. This meant that I played one rotation as a middle and two as an opposite while in front row. Then the spring of my junior year I became a full time opposite.  This was all normal to me, but after our second preseason tournament my senior year, the staff changed their plan. I was no longer an opposite. I was delegated to the bench and spent weeks fighting my way back onto the starting line up...as a middle.  I don't tell this story out of anger, I simply share it to show that my change of position was far from random.

Beziers, France playing middle

Fast forward through a few professional seasons, Grand Prix, World Championships and a handful of Pan Am Cups to the summer of 2015. After a couple summers of rotating our left sides through the opposite position, the team settled on moving a different left side and myself into the position. While I had known the switch possible, I never imagined that after one practice in Calgary, where we were scrimmaging with Puerto Rico in front of the Canadian club nationals, that I would be thrown into the game. But this is how it happened and I managed not to completely embarrass myself. Unfortunately a month later, in my second international game, I compound dislocated my right, pinky finger in Cuba and was unable to return to the court until Pan Am Games. This left me with no video, searching for a contract in a position I had barely played.

Like I said, I have been extremely fortunate in the opportunities I've been given. More than any season before, I count myself lucky that Juan and Dabrowa Gornicza took the chance to hire me for the 2015/2016 season. It was because of my good friends in the volleyball community, that just as things were looking grim, I was able to find a contract and continue my new dream of playing opposite. I am now in the final months of my second season as an opposite and I am feeling more at home in the position every day. I don't think I'll be hopping back in the middle any time soon, but I like to think I could, just to make my father proud of the fact that he made me a well rounded volleyball player.

As always, I give a big thank you to everyone who has played a part in continuing my dreams.

February Blues

From our last home game where we won 3-0

When I played in Kentucky I had a lot of ups and downs. There were challenges that felt like too much at the time and I struggled to stay afloat some months.  This was all normal. Everyone has tough moments and hit walls in life sometimes. When the challenges pile up and it becomes hard to breath, I was lucky that I always had someone to turn to and pull me back into the light.

The last five years I have found a pattern in the down moments. Every February, without fail, seems like a black hole of winter, clouds and cold. I have come to realize that February is the hardest month to make it through. What I failed to realize, was why depression hit every February. While living in Poland it's easy to blame the lack of sunlight. When 90% of the days are cloud covered, the lack of UV light and vitamin D can be a struggle. The problem is, the blues hit in France as well, where I lived in the south and the sun made an appearance almost every day.

Typical cloudy day in Poland

My conclusion is that there are a number of reasons associated with living abroad and playing volleyball that make February into a mental marathon. The first is that all the major holidays are so far away. The magic of  Christmas and New Years Eve seem like they happened ages ago and Easter is seemingly miles away. For any Valentines enthusiasts it could be easier, but not being a Cupid fan puts a damper on that "holiday." With endless winter and no celebrations, February is a sad and boring month.

Next is that playoffs seem like they will never come. Professional volleyball is like a giant tournament that lasts months. Everyone is working hard every day to reach the playoffs. I'm not saying that we don't enjoy the ride to get there, but when February hits all the hard work you've been putting in seems like its for nothing. The goal you are striving for is still weeks away, but that seems like forever. The games ahead have added importance, as for many teams it's make or break. This added pressure alone makes February stress filled. The push to be better, faster and maintain your highest level is a mental workout. Luckily we are trained to tackle this hurdle and find motivation among our teammates, staff and supporters.

From my mom's unplanned visit last February

The third problem with February really is that winter can seem endless. Just when there are two days of teasing mild weather, cold hits and snow falls from the sky.  What makes things worse is that all my beach friends are jetting off to warm destinations to play in the sand, catch some sun and work on their tans. While I seem to be fighting a losing battle and becoming transparently pale, many of my friends are bronzed and donning Oakley sunglasses.

The last, probably most obvious reason why February is the hardest month, is that there are no visitors to look forward to seeing. By February most visits have already happened and there are no more coming. With the exception of my mother's emergency visit last season. The next time you have hope of seeing family is when you return home. But all these reasons never make me want to be any place else. February is the worst month no matter where in the world you live. So, why would I want to be any place else? I am "working" in Europe, doing what I love and I am thankful for that. I will continue to find ways to shake the February blues and before I know it March will arrive and spring will bring warmer days.

Holiday Cheer

Charlottenburg Christmas Market, Berlin

As the holidays approach it's easy to fall into a kind of zombie mode when living abroad. Being single and alone while your teammates plan their 2 days off with family can be a difficult time as a foreigner. While occasionally some athletes have the luck to of a week off and enough time to jet home for a whirlwind trip to America, the reality for most athletes overseas is a makeshift family of other misfits with nowhere to go.  Christmas has been such a unique experience every year I've spent in Europe. My first year was spent with my one Canadian teammate, crochet, Christmas movies and a lot of Skype. This was my first Christmas without my family and it was hard. When you become used to having your family with you for every holiday it becomes normal. It's easy to forget how lucky you are to have people you love around you. The last five years have made me appreciate my time with my loved ones more than ever before. I have experienced many different Christmases in my time abroad.  Starting from my first Christmas in Berlin to a rushed surprise for my mom at 1am during a snow storm in Toronto. The next year me and an old Kentucky teammate rented an apartment as lost Christmas loners in Brussles to make our own family and create some cheer with spiced wine and new friends.  While every year the magic of the holiday season warms my heart nothing has made me more thankful than having my parents arrive to spend Christmas in Poland with me.

Mom and dad Torun

Brussels Christmas 2014

Lola the dog home for Christmas 2015

Yes I know, doesn't seem like a big deal for them to miss Christmas at home when Sarah and Adam are in China. For my parents to leave our friends and family at this time is actually huge.  Although I am forever grateful for their presence it's hard not to think about our traditions at home.  We will miss Christmas eve spent with my Godparents, Russ and Donna. We won't take on my Zia and cousins in a game of cranium and won't have the chance to crash the Mota family party or fondue night at the Morton's.  Yes, my parents have me to celebrate with but the sacrifice of the holiday traditions and sleeping on a pull out couch is not a small thing to me. While it is part of my job and a small sacrifice for me to play the sport I love, it isn't required for my parents. The love of my family and friends, especially my parents for coming, makes this time of year a little more special and has made my heart grow two sizes this Christmas, like the Grinch regaining his Christmas spirit from the Whos.

Solo

When asked what the hardest part of playing professional volleyball is for the last 2 years I'd always answer that being away from my family topped the list. Many speculated that attempting to have any kind of relationship would have been next to impossible, but I stood by my belief that having something or someone great was worth the frustrations of carrying on a long distance relationship. For two years me and my boyfriend fought to overcome the odds of a relationship that consisted of Skype conversations, a lot of texting and cherished weeks spent in the same area code. Many people questioned me on if we could have real feelings, having spent so little time together, or if it was a real relationship. My answer remains the same, that every moment of my long distance relationship was real. I knew a person so much better for having not been in the same place. You get to know someone from the inside, when all you have are communicated thoughts.

I have spent hours on hours trying to put to words what I want to say. Nothing seems right. Nothing seems to articulate what I'm feeling or give justice to the amazing relationship that simply, had terrible timing. What I will say, is that if asked today what the hardest part of being abroad is? I'd say being alone. For the first time in my adult life, I am truly and painfully solo. For anyone who knows me it's fair to say... I'm chatty. For weeks I have spent hours without a word uttered or texted to anyone. This silence is a new experience for me. 

I have sometimes been accused of being emotionless. While it may appear that way, it is far from the truth. What else is there to do but to search for happiness? I've always heard "fake it til' you make it" and I've taken this to heart. I've thrown myself into life with my new teammates, tested all the coffee shops in town and spent hours searching for ingredients in the grocery store.  All to avoid the deafening silence of my apartment, where there is no "good morning" text waiting on my iPad. It feels as though someone has moved out. There is an absence in my daily life when, in fact, I have always been alone. Looking at myself from an outside perspective I guess it's kind of funny, learning to be alone again, when I haven't really physically lived with anyone for some time. I think what all of this really shows is the validity of long distance love. To feel more alone when nothing concrete in my everyday life has changed is telling of how big a part my relationship played in my everyday life, despite being thousands of miles apart.

Familiar Comforts

Everyone has a list of comforts they keep close to them for times of need. I never realized how important these things were until I was separated by an ocean from everything I knew. I used to take comfort in regular visits from my parents when I played at Kentucky. If not that I could simply turn to close friends I'd known for years for the support I needed. As my original plan of one year abroad turned into multiple years, I have had to find comfort in other things when my people aren't around.

I've developed a list of things I can bring to keep me company and make home feel a little closer. I've learned to take comfort in a familiar mug of my favourite tea, crammed between socks and shirts into my two suitcases containing my whole life. I find happiness on a road trip pulling on the cheerfully coloured socks my dear friend Heather painstakingly dyed and knit for me. On cold, dark winter days, which are plentiful in Poland, I can cuddle up in a hug from my Zia (Italian aunt) by donning the cozy, chunky sweater she made me. While I love and appreciate my band-aid solutions to life alone in a foreign country, nothing will ever compare to having the people I miss with me.

On the most depressing days it's easy to remain in your apartment and binge on Netflix. I've found that this is a recipe for disaster. When all else fails I simply need to peel myself from my bed. Replace the sweats with "normal" clothes and make the 5 minute trek to the nearest coffee shop. The greatest comfort I find overseas is consuming some good Java with a slice of cake and watching the local people. Occasionally I'll hear English and awkwardly start a conversation. Sometimes I can be found walking aimlessly for hours around town weaving between people on the busy streets and slowly coming back to life.

I would never want to complain about being overseas as its a blessing that I am able to pursue my passion while experiencing so many wonderful places. But just like being at home in -30 degree weather, it isn't always rainbows and butterflies. I am grateful for the little bits of happiness that get me through the tough days and I am thankful that there are very few.

The Other Pavan Sister

I spent my whole life up until the age of 22 known not as Rebecca Pavan but "Sarah's sister." As many younger siblings can attest to, this can be rather irritating when entering a new school your older siblings have already conquered. For me this extended past a few teachers who had taught my sister before me. My curse, as a no name sibling, extended into a community of people across a country.  Many of you may know my sister, but for those of you who don't a brief history... Sarah is exceptional in every way. From being academically gifted to beautiful, she is in her own league. Most notably though she has been on of the best volleyball players in the world for most of her life. 

Growing up I was not an athletic specimen. Try as I might, I could not manage to coordinate my skinny, lanky limbs to do what I wanted. Regardless, I was entered into every sport my sister was. Instead of making the rep teams...I remained in house league. Finally when I was 12 I was allowed to start volleyball, my family's favourite past time. Although my family still questioned if it was safe for me to be attempting anything requiring fine motor movements, I loved the sport immediately. I relished in pulling on my turtle shell knee pads, over my knobby knees and warming the bench while cheering on my new friends. After middle school things began changing quickly. I became less "Bambi on ice" and slowly became one of the top Canadian volleyball recruits committing to Kentucky.

Despite my success I never felt as though I was  good enough. All my accomplishments paled in comparison to what my sister was able to do. While I was proud of her, I found it difficult to navigate who I was while I was being told I was someone based on my family. I was often portrayed as jealous, insecure, the "less talented sister" and a Pavan. What really was true? I was struggling to know my identity outside of my connection to my famous sibling. 

Fast forward to 2012 entering my first season abroad. When my teammates began asking about my life and family I was shocked to find they had no flicker of knowing in their eyes when my sister, and the fact the she too played volleyball, entered the conversation. It was like unexpectedly bursting through the surface to suck in fresh air for the first time, when I hadn't even realized I had been drowning. For the first time in my life I was Becky. No strings attached. No expectations. No assumptions. 

The last four years have changed me. I know everyone says this after experiences of living abroad. Just like everyone else who will annoyingly say this, I claim my epiphany is different from all the rest. Everyone who moves abroad is granted a different type of freedom. The freedom to do as one wants, to assume a new identity or simply adopt an new sense of adventure. My experience granted me the freedom to be the me who was always there, hiding in the shadow of a family reputation that trumped all. I can now say more strongly that ever that I am unbelievably proud of my sister and her ever growing list of accomplishments, I love my family and everything they do for the volleyball community and I love myself just for being me. The sport that once caused me so much anxiety is also the thing that set me free.