“Your credential vs. Nebraska on Oct. 31 will be available for pickup at the Pass Gate of the Field House,” the words I read from an email, on top of the parking garage near Andersen Hall.
I blink my eyes a few times, and suddenly I’m back in the nosebleeds watching Wisconsin volleyball, with my brother on my left, and my parents on my right.
As my mind comes back into real time, I’m still in the parking garage.
This was real. I was going back home to cover a ranked volleyball match on Halloween. Not just a regular game, but my school was playing in my hometown.
Without hesitation, I booked my flight home. This is what I dreamt of growing up. Now, it’s just around the corner from coming to life.
Once I arrived in Madison, I went back to my normal routine, as if I was back in high school, as if no time had passed since my departure three months prior.
My mom was still cooking and making sure everyone’s plans were situated, my dad was watching Al Michaels call Thursday Night Football, while my brother was doing homework upstairs.
There I was, back in the mix – how it used to be.
Halloween night rolled around, but it wasn’t a typical holiday for me. Instead of going door-to-door, walking around the neighborhood with my little brother, I suited up and gathered my materials to cover one of the biggest matches of the season.
I opened the door and walked across my driveway to the driver’s side of the car.
“It was time.”
That’s all that was running through my head at the time. It still hasn’t truly kicked in yet.
The roads I took felt familiar, the songs I played were full of nostalgia, while the suit I wore filled me with confidence and excitement.
I walked up the stairs that I used to walk up with my Grandpa to Camp Randall for Wisconsin football games. My head ran through every time I walked down the exact sidewalk, making my way to the field house.
Once I made it to the pass gate, specifically for players and media, I saw my name on the printed-out table, next to a box for my signature.
I signed it and was given my credentials. I was in.
I walked through the court to get to my specialized spot on the press row, and instantly thought of the times my brother and I would stand on the edge, begging for a mini volleyball.
My heart beat faster and faster. I walked up the small staircase to my spot and saw some faces I recognized from the Bob Devaney Sports Center.
I was back inside the UW Field House, but with a better view – one that I will never forget.
Time will quickly escape you if you don’t make the best of each opportunity.
Not only was the experience surreal, but it gave me a chance to step back and appreciate the path it took to get here.
sports@dailynebraskan.com
