Chapter 5: Mama-san volleyballer — Vanessa Asell Tsuruga

It was the end of October 2020, and I was trying to declutter my many me’s. A year when the inner symbiosis got shaken up, I figured that listing and defining my roles — and responsibilities! — could help decipher who I was as a person. Who I wanted to be.

Read the full Letter from the author here.

Links to previous chapters:

Chapter 1: Me

Chapter 2: Madame Butterfly

Chapter 3: Magazine editor

Chapter 4: Malm?ite

Each chapter has six segments:

Meaning: Definition of role

Map: So wait, how did I get here?

Milestone: The enablers that made it possible

Magic: Highlight moments

Missing: Challenges, regrets, and missed opportunities

More: What is still to come

Meaning

one of many mothers playing three hours of volleyball every Saturday at the school gym of my children’s primary school

Map?

Volleyball, where did you and I meet??

As far as I am aware, the first time I ever touched a volleyball was in P.E. class with Lisbeth Rudbeck at Stocksundsskolan, Sweden, a middle school in an affluent neighborhood a twenty-minute ride north of Stockholm. I never excelled at one sport but I was good at everything. I was always on the school team, be it soccer, track and field, basketball, or trail running. And, of course, volleyball.

The significance of this sport picked up as I grew older. Moving to Barcelona and starting an international school aged 13, it was a saving grace when I had no friends and no English confidence. Mr. Chris, whom I will talk about in a different chapter, was the owner of that volleyball. Or the custodian more like it, I guess the balls belonged to Benjamin Franklin International School.?

It was January 1992 and a couple of weeks into my new life when we were scheduled to play a game against the American School, ASB, a half hour ride away in Esplugues. Mr. Chris took us aside and told us the game had been canceled. My English was too poor to understand whether canceled meant postponement or never to happen but I was too shy to ask. Two policemen had been shot dead by the Basque separatist organization ETA, Euskadi Ta Askatasuna. I was 13, lost in translation, and my image of Barcelona as the ideal location on the Mediterranean had been crushed with fear.?

But life tends to come back for you.?

Although that spring semester was the most challenging of any academic period in my life — no, any period! — I did enjoy the hours of volleyball more than anything. We played two days a week after school and most weekends by the church on the beach in Sitges with Mr. Chris, Nur, my sister Charlotta, and a few other regulars. Nur had her own story which I will leave out of my book. She lives forever in my heart and her name spells RUN backwards.

Mr. Chris opened up a new world to sports. He got us to a tournament in the Japanese School where we played salaryman dads in Sant Cugat. We had to stop at a traffic light which took years to turn green. When Mr. Chris left Barcelona to move back to the US, there was a void. My sports participation withered and it was not until I joined ASICS at the global head office in Kobe, Japan, in 2006, that I started playing again. Every Wednesday in the atrium, from 6 PM to 8 PM. We played six on six, mixing up the teams by doing rock, scissors, paper.?

Twelve years later I dressed in my FC Barcelona kit, full on with VANESSA written on the back, and gathered enough guts to open the door into the gym at my children’s school. I figured that as a tall foreigner — even though I am the Swedish average at 171 cm — in a cool looking kit, at least I could make an impact. The kit had been provided when I played a game at Camp Nou during 2018 partners day. I was there representing Rakuten, my employer and FC Barcelona main global sponsor.

The impact at my kids’ gym made up for the quality of my play. I had never learned technical volleyball and here I was with 15 other mothers trying to understand the drills, the coach, and how I had even gotten there in the first place. We played nine on nine and within weeks I was coined ‘ace’, playing left position up at the net, spiking some pretty cruel spikes at times. Each time, honoring Mr. Chris.?

Milestone

Volleyball is a sport and sport is about health. This mantra became all the more clear to me as an employee with ASICS for 12 years. I was the first Westerner hired at the global headquarters in Japan. Was it hard, many people ask me. No, it was not hard. It was truly difficult at times. I have used the same answer every time: The advantages equaled the challenges.

As the only Westerner around, and a woman, you stand out in any crowd. Soon everybody knew who I was. There were about 600 employees in the office on Port Island, Kobe, and another 300 at the Institute of Sports Science, a 40-minute ride from the city center. I was hired by Oyama-san, general manager of marketing in 2006 and later CEO. When you are a foreign hire in your mid-20s expected to shake things up to globalize operations, then you have to choose your fights. One was very volleyball related and I will tell it here for the record.

It was 2006 and ASICS sponsored the national women’s volleyball team of Kazakhstan. They were practicing in the atrium ahead of a tournament and I was down there watching. In awe. Also, in awe of what happened next. ASICS allowed smoking at the time and a couple of employees were seated at a table toward the atrium corner puffing away. One Kazakhstani player walked up to them and gestured frantically that she disliked smoking. The two quickly put out their cigarettes and snuck out. Smoked into embarrassment. I disappeared too and used the incident to make a case to extinguish smoking forever.?

I still admire the guts I had writing my email to executive management.?

Within a day, smoking was banned in all areas of ASICS and cigarettes were no longer for sale in the cafeteria. A win, and a breath of fresh air.

Magic

Playing volleyball with mothers was not only a release for any inbox-related stress. 2 to 5 PM on Saturdays became a ritual. It was awful at times and I wanted to quit. I had never learned to play volleyball. Until then. All my life I had just played. Many of the other mothers had played during elementary and middle school. A few during high school and university. Then a break, have a few kids, to return to the court when their kids started elementary school. Circle of volleyball life.?

The coach was hard to understand. Japanese is tricky. My brain froze. My confidence disintegrated. He would say “hashiranai”. This, in isolation, means do not run. Or no running. In my complex brain, I could not understand if he asked me not to run, or if I simply did not run. Dochi? Which one? Same with “tobanai”. It means do not jump, or no jumping. So wait now, did I not jump? Or should I jump? At times it brought me to total tears. Not only was I that total lighthouse of a foreigner who everyone notices no matter what I do — good or bad — I was also struggling with understanding very basic commands. After so many years in Japan…

One team mate often told me I had to communicate more. She picked on me because I wasn’t using the same comments and cheery terminology of the rest of my team. I would say “nice play” loud and clear, at least that’s my own perception. To her, I wasn’t a team player. It hurt because I was trying so hard to fit in, to be one of them, trying to attain the impossible: be that chameleon when you are a lot taller, blue eyed, and playing in a full Bar?a kit with your name on it.?

I tried to take my differences to a better place. I tried to make use of my volleyball in other situations. I had always been aware of the power of sports as an equilibrator, ever since Barcelona and my days of Anima Sana in Corpore Sano days at ASICS. A sound mind in a sound body.

During a championship at a school in my ward, I thought about the importance of owning your own feelings. Feeling your own feelings. Messi, yes he scores a goal and we all feel great. (If we supported FC Barcelona when he played there.) But YOU spiking that ball, YOU setting a ball up for a perfect smash, that is YOU doing it for YOUrself. I brought this insight with me into many speaking engagements representing Rakuten in Kuala Lumpur, Madrid, Barcelona, and Manila. I conveyed that as a sports property rights holder, it was our duty to enable fan experiences where the fans got to experience sport on their own. That would extend our storytelling into the emotional space, and that is where relationship building starts to grow.

The magic comes through participation. Whether in an FC Barcelona kit in a poorly lit, low ceiling, and no air conditioning school gym, or on the pitch at Camp Nou.??

Missing

On the court, I notice that I am afraid of learning. Picking up a new skill exposes you. It makes you an easy target. The impostor syndrome kicks in. I like to be okay at many things, rather than an expert at one. Remember I told you I was on all the school teams but never excelled in one sport? I see a pattern. I spread myself thin across many things.?

It also explains why I have been bold in taking on new jobs. Moving to new countries. I have lived in Stockholm, Barcelona, London, Tokyo, Kobe, Olympia. When you are new at something, you cannot be great at it.

It also explains why I would rather do an adlib speaking engagement, with key speaking points, rather than following a scripted PowerPoint from page one to nine. The former lets me explore the untold, in a way where I have to stay on my toes and react to whatever question or comment that can come my way from the moderator or my fellow speakers. The PowerPoint however, forces you to deliver to perfection. I am as far from perfect as anyone could ever be. In the spontaneous, in the unplanned, I thrive. That’s where the impostor in me feels at home. Hello comfort zone.?

To sum this up, what is missing, again, is confidence. Believing in myself even when it comes to places where I don't feel at home. Like in a new position, second from the left, when we play four or five at the net. Trying to learn it, exposed, full of doubt.?

More

There are several volleyball techniques I need to pick up. I suck at receiving. My serve is very unreliable. My spike, when good, is lethal. In mama-san volleyball we play our positions without rotating. In a sense, this does not totally fit me because it means I need to put all my efforts into becoming better at spiking and blocking. On the other hand it fits me perfectly because spiking and blocking is what I love the most in volleyball.?

2020 took our gym time from the team and we met in a park under the 246 road that cuts through Tokyo. When my parents visited in 2019, and dropped by the school to watch practice, they were both in awe at how 15 mothers and three coaches gave up their entire Saturday afternoon — every Saturday! — to play volleyball. This would not happen in my Sweden where family cabins and travel are the norm for many people.

During the pandemic, I really couldn’t wait to get back to playing games. Now, in 2024, we’re back into it. Two weekends ago, I played four matches in one day. The muscle pain kicking in the following day was proof of my immense effort. I do recall my first ever game in Barcelona. The one that didn’t happen. Two policemen died by the cruelty of ETA’s gunshots. Terror canceled sport. Terror must never cancel our dreams.?

To be continued.?

Once the conversation spreads beyond the words you are now reading, positivity and empathy are key. BE KIND. Bring value and relevance to the discussions. Be helpful. Encourage one another. Highlight trends. Share case studies, resources, and your network.

Together, let’s #TalkAboutGoingPlaces.

I’ll be bringing you new chapters regularly.

Until soon,

Vanessa ?sell Tsuruga