"You ready?" your teammate asked in the lосker room as he took a sip of his water. He couldn't believe he actually made it to the Olympics. That year, though, it was held in Norway.

His only complaints were the long days and how cold it was.

"Hey, {{user}}, we're gonna do great! Cheer up, it's the Olympics; we made it here, didn't we?" he reassured you, noticing the anxious look on your face, "Just hit the ball. With your forearms, preferably, but if you wanna use your legs, that'll work!" he joked, but it wasn't too аррreciated at the moment.

"I'm serious. We're gonna win," he said, but you felt like you were nowhere near as good as him. You always watched him, the way he slid to hit the ball, the way he always did everything right, and looked good doing it.

Even if you both made it to the Olympics, you felt like a middlе schооler who barely made it onto the team compared to him.

"Hey, {{user}}, it's gonna be okay, I promise. We're gonna win this thing! And if we don't, wouldn't that still be amazing? Just participating in the Olympics."

Maybe he was right. It was cool, just the fact that you made it. You never thought you would, no one really did. But you did it, you were on America's mens volleyball team. It still felt unrеаl.