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Southern Oregon Journal: Memories of senior nights gone by Sunday Oct 22, 2017 at 12:01 AM By Peggy Dover for the Mail Tribune I didn’t know anyone in the game — and few in the stands — even though this noisy arena once claimed much of my time. No one knew me, either. Tuesday night, my friend and former Cascade Christian volleyball coach extraordinaire, Susan Gmur, and I watched as the 3A defending state champion Challengers volleyball team routed their long-time and esteemed rivals, the St. Mary’s Crusaders. It was senior night and the final home game of the season for the Challengers. Three young women and their parents stood on the court with bouquets, preparing to say goodbye. Several years ago, I had served as the athletic director’s assistant for Cascade. Before that, I embraced the Volleyball Mom title with gusto, wearing all the T-shirts and sweatshirts proudly. I still have a drawer full. My tour of driving to every game and tournament — home or away — and making Chinese chicken salad for the girls floated somewhere in memory. But amid the screams for points won, deafening buzzers and referees’ whistles — soundtrack of gymnasiums everywhere — I saw No. 7 on the court. Our daughter, Emily, stood, arms up and ready, as plain as day, staring into the eyes of the opposing middle to derail and intimidate, and giving her all to the position. She brought the excitement for us during our volleyball years. Thirteen years ago, we stood with Emily on that court for our final season. In those days, during a close match, you’d have thought world peace depended on the outcome of the game. My heart often felt as though it beat outside my chest where everyone could see and hear it. I was not the only one. All of us parents stood and yelled, united for the cause. Today’s parents seem much more mature and self-controlled. None of them had purple hair or painted faces, for instance. But they didn’t look to be having half the fun. Those matches made up the biggest part of fall. Twice a week and some Saturdays found our bottoms parked solidly on bleacher seats while wearing Challenger purple and gold and maybe the volleyball earrings too. That’s when Susan became Coachie and I needed to be mindful that while we were friends, she ran the show on the court. Susan reigned supreme over the Cascade volleyball program, and each aspiring freshman and JV player looked up to her, wanting to make that block or set the perfect hit as she watched, to garner her attention — to make the varsity team. “Coach Gmur is in the stands.” Tuesday night our hearts did not bang out of our chests, though we’re ever gratified to witness Cascade beat St. Mary’s. It’s ingrained in us now. I trust the reverse remains true as well. I’m glad the Oregon School Activities Association didn’t change the local dynamics with their recent reclassification announcement. But we didn’t scream and yell, and Susan did not “drop” her clipboard on the floor when someone made a boneheaded mistake. We simply observed from on high. Though the winning dynasty lives on, it’s not ours. So, to all senior-night parents watching their pride and joy not only graduate and leave the nest, but play their final home game, I get it. You may return to watch for a year or two because you know younger teammates, and the residual excitement isn’t completely dissipated even though the bubble has popped. Although you’ll root for the home team, maybe even wear the togs, your heart will quiet down when the score is tight and there’s a championship at stake. It will never be the same as when you had an offspring in the fight. Until you have grandchildren. Meanwhile, remember fondly all those unforgiving bleachers and the diverse body aches they wrought; the long, late, rainy drives home from club tournaments up north; and having all of autumn completely scheduled for you. Shake your heads and repeat with me, “Those were the days.” Then visit Dairy Queen to celebrate the coming chapter. — Peggy Dover is a freelance writer. Email her or cry on her shoulder at [email protected].