The Hidden Alchemy of Great Athletes

By Coach Adrian | #VolleyLiveLife

There is a kind of silence that does not scream. It does not demand attention or validation. It does not rage against the injustice or announce its transformation to the world. It just changes. Quietly. Permanently.

That silence is where the real transmutation happens.

I have seen it more times than I can count; players who get cut, benched, overlooked, blamed, or broken. And then one day, they come back. Not louder. Not angrier. Just different. Focused. Fierce. Not because someone told them to be, but because they decided they would be.

That is the moment when pain becomes power.

Not everyone sees it. Parents want stats. Coaches want results. Teammates want wins. But real growth does not show up on the scoreboard right away. It happens in the hidden hours. In the early morning reps when no one is watching. In the moment a player decides not to sulk or lash out but to get to work. That is transmutation.

And if you have ever experienced it, you know it is not loud. It is personal. It is sacred.

I felt it in my own bones, years ago, when I had to step away from the game I loved. Life pulled me in another direction, and volleyball •my world• became a memory I tried to avoid. For more than a decade, I buried the part of me that once lit up inside a gym. But it never fully died. The spark never went out. My older daughter’s decision to play volleyball brought it back to life. And when my youngest daughter followed in her footsteps, it became cemented inside me like a carved stone. I was back.

I did not plan it. I was not chasing it. But when they stepped onto the court, something inside me reignited. And this time, I was not chasing medals or titles or approval. I was committed to the process. To the values. To the purpose.

Still, I faced moments of burnout. I kept coaching with everything I had. I invested in every kid. I fixed every angle. I guided, corrected, encouraged. But I would leave the gym in silence. Not angry. Not frustrated. Just quiet.

I never stopped coaching with heart. But joy did not always follow me back to the car. That was when I recognized the name of what I had once felt as a player when I walked away from the game. That word was Anhedonia: the loss of joy in something you used to love.

This time, I was better equipped. I had maturity. I had faith. I had experience. I understood that transformation is not a performance. It is a refining. You do not need to prove to the world that you have changed. You just are.

That is transmutation. It turns anger into focus. Heartbreak into hunger. Rejection into reason. And it does not need to be announced.

Across the volleyball world, from junior leagues in Tennessee to national teams in Italy, I have watched this quiet shift unfold. Young athletes being left off rosters. Coaches getting questioned for choosing values over popularity. Parents feeling helpless watching their kids lose their spark. But then, one day, the players stop asking why me and start asking what now.

That is the shift.

Bruno Rezende(Olympic Gold) once said that people only see the medals and the fire. They do not see the war inside. The expectations. The criticism. The weight of legacy. But what made him one of the greatest setters in history was not his name or stats. It was his refusal to stop refining. To stop becoming. To stop showing up.

That is what I want every coach, player, and parent to remember.

Transmutation is not about becoming someone else. It is about becoming more of who you were meant to be. Sharper. Stronger. More whole.

If you are in that place right now, if you feel like the joy has left and your energy is fading, you are not broken. You are not finished. You are being refined.

Keep showing up. Keep growing. Not louder. Not angrier. Just better.

Let the silence speak for you.

Let your consistency do the talking.

You do not need to announce your comeback. You just need to become it.