As the ref’s whistle commences for the beginning of a volleyball match, my teammates and I eagerly huddle together in a tightly-knit circle. At this moment, their eyes faithfully look to me, waiting for me to put my right foot in the middle of our chaotic gathering. I tap each teammate’s right foot in a clockwise motion– intentionally yet systematically. This routine, inherited from the team captain of my first high school volleyball season, became a symbol of unity and resilience– words that followed me throughout my high school career. With each tap, I connect each teammate, consumed by their nervous thoughts, to a cohesive unit on the court where communication and confidence will flourish. Instead of being separated by our differences, like islands with miles of distance, we become one, like a great nation, through our common desire to overcome the treacherous feats each volleyball game has to offer. Except, these challenges were no longer stacked points and intense rallies, but lists of canceled matches and collective tears as our new biggest obstacle became our halted season. We were a team on the winning path, so I felt like I must be a great captain. Yet, when pools of water began accumulating beneath our gym's floor, a sense of uncertainty was created, leading to a season filled with doubt. I was now confronted with a fractured team, and my role as team captain quickly became redefined. It was on the team bus ride heading toward our next game where we were told that our season had been canceled. I was already preparing myself emotionally, as a senior, to grieve all of my “lasts” in my volleyball experience as I inch closer to my final days of high school: my last ace, my last kill, my last ceremonial pre-game huddle. However, nothing could’ve prepared me to have the responsibility of teaching the rest of my young team how to cope with loss too. I thought being a leader meant remaining composed, strong, and courageous during turbulent times. But when my team turned to me for vulnerability, compassion, and empathy, I realized that leadership skills entail so much more. It was this realization that morphed my new meaning of victory. Victory was never the number of games we won or points we accumulated but our ability to reconstruct the pieces of our shattered canvas. Instead of celebrating wins, our focus shifted toward creating something new—a masterpiece of resilience shaped by each member’s strength. Through this, I received the opportunities to inspire my younger teammates to prohibit hardship from turning into hatred, to be my team’s voice while advocating for our program with our school’s administration, and ultimately, to give back to the program that raised me. The lessons I learned as a student-athlete and team captain reached far beyond the volleyball court. By blending compassion and strength, I’ve learned how to inspire unity even during difficult times. These experiences have sparked my dream of becoming a lifelong motivator, someone who helps others find their strength and purpose. I discovered that empathy—genuine care and understanding for my teammates—can be one of the strongest foundations of leadership. Experiencing the pains of loss as a team further ignites me to strive to be an effective listener and friend, which are some of the most important pillars of leadership. Even though my future challenges may not take place on a volleyball court, I’ll carry forward the meaning of true victory: leading with empathy, resilience, and a commitment to unity.