The 38-36 Set and the Night SMU Ended Pitt's 58-Match Home Winning Streak

I remember that night clearly. The clock in Hai Phong had just passed four in the morning, the beer glass on the table had long been empty, but my eyes were still glued to the livestream screen of the match between SMU and Pittsburgh. The third set stretched to a 38-36 score — a number that if anyone had told me ten years ago, I would have said they were mistaken. Elite volleyball does not end a set at that score. Yet it happened, right before my eyes, on a night I had promised myself I would go to bed early after finishing my report on the national women's volleyball league.

I sat there, alone in a small room, listening to the squeak of rubber shoes on the wooden floor through the computer speakers, hearing the Pitt fans erupt and then deflate, and I realized I was witnessing something rare. Not just an ordinary win. But the moment a 58-match home winning streak — a number any coach would dream of — was ended by a team many still ranked as "rising."

I reached for my phone, quickly typed a few lines into my notes app, exactly the habit I learned after the 2026 Russia World Cup, when I forgot to record the press conference of the French national team coach because I was busy drinking beer with a Brazilian colleague. Since then, I never let a detail slip by without recording it. And that night, there were too many details worth recording.

Context: The ACC Battle I Had to Stay Up Late to Fully Understand

For readers to understand why I stayed up until four in the morning for an American college match, I need to recount the context. This is NCAA Division I women's indoor volleyball — the US collegiate system, where the season runs from August to December, culminating in the 64-team NCAA Tournament. This is not the FIVB arena I usually follow, but it matters far more than many Vietnamese realize: this is the cradle that nurtures the US women's national team, and the feeder for the emerging professional leagues like LOVB and PVF.

This match was part of the ACC — one of the premier conferences in American college women's volleyball. SMU, the team I was following as a specialist writer, joined the ACC in 2026. They are ranked No. 6 nationally. Pittsburgh, their opponent that night, is ranked No. 2 nationally and is a long-established power.

Before the match, SMU had a 5-0 ACC record. Pitt had a 4-1 record. That sounds balanced, but the notable part lay elsewhere: Pitt held a 58-match home winning streak — so long that people had begun to treat their home court as an impregnable fortress. And only one team remained undefeated nationwide: Nebraska, ranked No. 1. All eyes turned to Nebraska, while Pitt quietly carried the pressure of the unbeaten-at-home label.

I have followed women's volleyball for 44 years, from matches at Lach Tray to SEA Games, and I know one thing: long streaks always have a breaking point. The question is not "whether" but "when" and "who." That night, the answer was SMU.

The final result: SMU beat Pitt in four sets. But what I want readers to see is not the overall score. It is in how they won.

The Attack at the Net: Where the Match Was Truly Decided

If you only read the headline "SMU beats Pitt," you might think of a lucky upset. But when you dissect the data, a completely different picture emerges. SMU won this match through dominance at the net, and it was a victory with structure, not luck.

The first number that made me sit up straight: SMU out-blocked Pitt 12.5-6. In NCAA volleyball, blocks are counted by a half-point convention — meaning a double block is split between two players, so the figure "12.5" reflects the team's total blocks. But under any convention, beating your opponent by a factor of two at the net is a massive tactical signal.

More telling: this was SMU's third consecutive match with at least 12 team blocks. This is not a one-off peak, but a system. A team that blocks well in one match is lucky; a team that blocks well in three straight matches has an identity.

But blocking is only half the story. The other half — and to me, this is the most interesting part — lies in the attack efficiency of the middle blockers. SMU's middle group recorded 27 kills on 47 swings, for an efficiency of 0.447. In elite volleyball, hitting efficiency is calculated as (kills minus errors) divided by total attempts. A figure of 0.447 for a middle group in a four-set match is excellent.

When I read that number, I recalled the training sessions of the Vietnamese women's national team I had witnessed. The coaches always told me that middle attack is the hardest thing to teach, because it requires absolute chemistry between the setter and the middle, plus the ability to read the opponent's block in an instant. A middle group hitting 0.447 means SMU's setter and middles were connecting almost perfectly, and that usually only happens when the team's first contact (reception) is holding the ball steady.

Five Names, One System: When Attack Does Not Depend on a Star

This is what I want readers to remember most. There is a question I always ask when analyzing any team: "Does this team win with one person or with a system?"

With SMU that night, the answer could not be clearer. They had five players reaching 10 or more points: Natalia Newsome 17, Suli Davis 17, Jadyn Livings 13, Placide 10, and Favor Anyanwu 10. Five attackers crossing the double-digit threshold in one match is one of the clearest signs of an attack that is hard to scout.

Think about that from the perspective of an opposing coach. Which way do you load your block? If you load toward Newsome, Davis will punish you. If you load toward Davis, Livings will appear. This is the kind of attack distribution that ensures the opposing block is never able to "read" in advance, and in volleyball, being one beat late in reading is losing the whole rally.

And look at the individual efficiency. Natalia Newsome, the middle blocker, scored 17 points at 0.519 — a career high for her. Jadyn Livings, the outside hitter, scored 13 points at 0.435 — her season best. Suli Davis, an outside hitter who is only a sophomore, scored 17 points, added 9 digs and 4 blocks — this was the 14th double-digit kill match of her career.

I must say one thing I always remind myself: never mythologize a single number. Newsome's 0.519 is a single-match peak, not a season-long one. Livings' 0.435 is her best of the season, but "of the season" is still one match. The difference between a great team and a rising team lies in this: great teams turn single peaks into daily standards. SMU reached a peak that night, but the season-long question is whether they can repeat it.

However, there is one number that is not a single peak but a trend: three straight matches with at least 12 blocks. This is cross-match data with weight, and it makes me believe SMU's foundation is real.

Babcock and the Loneliness of the One Who Carries the Team

On the other side of the net, the story is entirely different. Pittsburgh has Olivia Babcock — an opposite hitter who scored 25 points in this match, plus 2 direct service aces. She is not just a good player. She is the holder of Pitt's program records with 1,853 career kills and 176 career aces.

25 points in a four-set match is a massive number — typically it accounts for about half of a team's total attack output across four sets. But precisely because of that, it becomes a tactical weakness.

This is a paradox I have witnessed countless times in my career, from Vietnamese women's volleyball to international competitions. When a team depends on one attacker, that dependence is both a strength and a hole. It is a strength when the opponent cannot block her. It is a hole when the opponent has a block good enough to force the whole team into a predictable pattern.

And SMU that night was exactly that opponent. By winning the net battle 12.5-6, they forced Pitt to keep trying to feed Babcock in increasingly unfavorable situations. An attacker scoring 25 points in a loss often means she had to swing a very high volume of balls — and high volume in unfavorable rallies usually means efficiency lower than the impressive headline number suggests. I do not have the full data to confirm this, but based on my experience watching thousands of matches, it is a reasonable inference.

This is where I want to remind readers of a principle I learned from journalism: a big number is not necessarily a good number. Babcock's 25 points is a remarkable individual achievement. But if it came on 60 swings, her efficiency might be only average. Volleyball is a sport where the total points never tell the whole story.

Harris, the Libero, and the Unexpected Aces

There is a detail in this match I want to dedicate a section to, because it belongs to the kind of detail that short reports usually skip: SMU libero Victoria Harris had 20 digs and 4 direct service aces. This was the second 20-dig match of her career, and her 4 aces tied a career high.

In volleyball, the libero is a back-row defensive specialist, not allowed to attack or block. Their traditional role is to dig and receive serves. But when a libero also records 4 direct service aces, that is a dual contribution few notice.

I once livestreamed with three former Vietnamese national players, over 5,000 viewers, and we debated for an entire session about the question: which role in modern volleyball is most underrated? The answer we agreed on was the libero. Fans remember the attacker who scores. They rarely remember the person who dug the ball to create that attack. But when a libero scores aces directly, she is not just defending — she is attacking from a position the opponent does not expect.

A libero who both digs 20 balls and serves 4 aces is the embodiment of the kind of volleyball I love most: a volleyball where victory is built from unglamorous contributions.

And look at Favor Anyanwu as well: 10 points and 9 blocks. Nine blocks in one match is a dominant net figure, nearly a "double-double" (two double-digit stats). She is the link between attack and defense — scoring at the front and blocking to create counterattacks.

The Contrarian Angle: 58 Unbeaten Matches and the Trap of Comfort

This is the part where I want readers to think along with me, because it runs counter to conventional intuition.

The popular narrative would be: "SMU pulled off an upset, ending Pitt's 58-match streak." But I do not believe in the pure upset story. I believe in something else.

When a team is unbeaten at home for 58 straight matches, they do not just accumulate wins — they accumulate a comfort zone. They are used to winning the tense sets. They are used to the home crowd pulling them through difficult moments. And when an opponent strong enough appears to shatter that comfort zone, the team may discover that they had not truly been tested in a long time.

Pitt's own coach, Dan Fisher, said after the match that his team "needed to experience those emotions." This is a statement in which I hear many layers. When a coach says his team needed to experience the emotions of a loss, he is admitting that his team had been winning without being truly tested — that is a coaching gap, not a talent gap.

I have seen this in Vietnamese women's volleyball. There are teams that dominate the domestic league for years, and then when they meet an international opponent of sufficient caliber, they collapse in exactly the sets where experience should have kept them standing. A long streak does not create strength; it creates habit. And habit, at some point, meets an opponent that does not respect it.

And Olivia Babcock, in her own words, admitted that her team "had not yet met a high standard in matches." This is admirable self-awareness. A program record-holder, scoring 25 points, still saying the team has not met the standard — that is a sign of a healthy internal accountability culture. This is not a team collapsing. This is a team being forced to grow up.

Commercial Value and Competitive Value: An Uncomfortable Angle

Now I want to pull readers away from the box score and pose a harder question.

What made this match noticed? The surface answer is: a No. 6 team beat a No. 2 team, ending a long streak. But there is a deeper layer that I, as someone who has written about women's volleyball for four decades, cannot ignore.

The rematch between the two teams was scheduled just days later, and it aired on ESPN. This is an important commercial signal. A college women's volleyball match being carried on a national sports channel is not because it is a good match — it is because it is a match with a story. Stories sell airtime.

And this is where I want to say something that may make some people uncomfortable. In women's sports, commercial value is often determined by narrative more than by competitive quality. This is both an opportunity and a trap.

The opportunity lies in this: if the story draws viewers in, viewers will stay for the quality. The trap lies in this: if we only sell the story, we teach viewers that they come to see an upset, not to see a system.

I have seen this throughout my career. I once wrote about a 17-year-old female striker who scored a double at Lach Tray in the U19 Southeast Asian final, and I remember abandoning my tactical notes to jump up and celebrate with the crowd, forgetting the post-match interview. That article was shared widely, but I always wondered: did people share it because of the moment, or because of the match? Later I understood that the question has no wrong answer. Both are true. But the writer has a responsibility to ensure that after the moment, readers still remember the quality.

And the quality of this SMU-Pitt match is real. It is not just an upset. It is a demonstration of blocking, of attack distribution, of chemistry between setter and middles. If we only call it an "upset," we have missed the most important thing.

A Fake Upset or a Hidden Truth?

I want to push this contrarian angle a bit further, because it relates to a larger issue in how we tell stories about women's sports.

There is a persistent bias: when a lower-ranked women's team beats a higher-ranked women's team, people call it an "upset" or a "shock." But when the same thing happens in men's sports, people call it "elite football" or "healthy competition." The same event, two different names, and the naming reveals how we value the two sports.

SMU did not create an upset. SMU created a result that the media is not used to calling by its proper name.

Look at their résumé. Before this match, SMU had four wins over top-10 teams — over teams ranked No. 3, 8, 9, and now No. 2. They hold a 14-match ACC winning streak, the longest in the conference. This is not the résumé of a lucky team. This is the résumé of a team that has been at the national level for a long time, just not yet recognized.

I once witnessed something similar in Asian women's volleyball. There are Southeast Asian teams that get called "phenomena" every time they beat an East Asian team, while in reality they have been quietly building foundations for years. The "phenomenon" label is a way for observers to avoid admitting they had undervalued that team.

So when I read that SMU beat Pitt, I did not think "upset." I thought: "Finally, their résumé has been confirmed by a result everyone has to notice."

The 38-36 Set: A Test of Patience

Back to the third set, the one that stretched to 38-36. I want to spend time analyzing it, because it contains more than a record number.

In volleyball, a set ends at 25 points, and a team must win by two. There is no upper limit. This means a set can go on indefinitely as long as the two teams keep trading points. The 38-36 set is a direct consequence of this rule — and it is a brutal test of stamina, nerve, and roster depth.

Think about what happens in such a set. Each team must serve and receive dozens of times under maximum pressure. Every rally could be the decisive one. No team is allowed to make a mistake, but both teams know that sooner or later someone will. This is the kind of set coaches call a "psychological war" — where technique has reached its limit and only nerve decides.

What the 38-36 set reveals is this: both teams held their reception and their attacks under extreme pressure. If one team had collapsed, the set would have ended long before. The fact that it stretched to 38-36 means both stood firm, and the set was decided by the final rallies — by crunch-point execution and by errors.

A 38-36 set does not say one team is weak. It says both teams are strong, and one was stronger at exactly the most important moment.

For SMU, winning a set that long is a signal of character. For Pitt, losing such a set at home is a signal of what Fisher called "the emotions that needed to be experienced."

The Rematch and an Immediate Tactical Test

There is one scheduling detail I consider most important to understanding the whole story: the two teams met again just days later, this time at SMU's home.

This is rare in elite volleyball at this level — a home-and-home pair within days. In the context of ACC expansion, teams can meet twice in a season instead of once. This creates a situation I call "instant-replay chess."

Think about its tactical meaning. SMU had just proven they could win with blocking and attack distribution. Pitt had just learned they could not rely on Babcock in unfavorable rallies. Within days, both coaching staffs had to review film, find the opponent's weaknesses, and adjust. But at the same time, both had to guess how the opponent would adjust.

In a home-and-home pair, the team that wins the first match often faces an information disadvantage: they have shown their hand, while the losing team has the motivation and data to change.

For Pitt, the obvious challenge was to find a reliable secondary attack source to reduce Babcock's load. For SMU, the challenge was to maintain reception well enough to keep the middles involved, and to guard against an adjusted Pitt. And the fact that the rematch aired on ESPN says the whole country was waiting to see who would adjust better.

I wondered whether I would stay up another night to watch the rematch. The answer, for a 60-year-old who still thinks she is the girl jumping on the Lach Tray stands, is yes.

What I Took Away from a Sleepless Night

I have followed women's volleyball for 44 years. I have witnessed long streaks end, stars flare and fade, teams praised and forgotten. And what I have learned is this: never judge a team by a single match, but also never ignore a match just because it is "only one match."

That night, SMU taught me something about structure. They did not win with one person. They won with five people, with a block that had proven itself across three matches, with a libero who served aces, with a setter who fed the middles at 0.447 efficiency. This is the kind of victory I call a "repeatable victory" — far more trustworthy than a single night of one individual's brilliance.

And Pitt taught me something about dependence. A team with a program-record star is a lucky team. But if that star must carry half the attack output in a match where the opposing block is winning, that is a hole waiting to be exploited.

But what I took away most from that night was not a tactical analysis. It was a feeling. The feeling of sitting alone in a small room in Hai Phong, at four in the morning, watching an American college women's volleyball match, and realizing I did not feel alienated at all. Volleyball is volleyball. A 38-36 set in Pittsburgh made my heart race exactly as a long set at Lach Tray would.

Perhaps that is what I want to say to young people writing about women's sports. You will be tempted to tell the upset story, because upsets sell. But the real story lies elsewhere: in the 0.519 efficiency of a middle blocker, in the 9 blocks of a player few know by name, in a libero digging 20 balls. If you can tell those stories, you do not need to sell the upset. Quality will sell itself.

Outside, dawn had broken. I closed my computer, but did not go to sleep. I sat there, thinking about SMU, about Pitt, about the 58-match streak that had ended, and about how in a few days they would meet again. I thought about how women's volleyball, anywhere in the world, always has teams quietly building something the world has not yet deigned to call by its proper name. And I thought that my job — the job of someone who has written about women's volleyball for four decades — is to call those things by their proper names, before they become headlines.

There is a question I leave for readers, and for myself: if a women's team has four top-10 wins and a 14-match conference winning streak and is still called "rising," when will we finally call them a power? Perhaps the answer lies in the rematch. And perhaps, just perhaps, it lies in whether we — the storytellers — choose to tell about the system instead of only about the upset.