Honda Center and the 2028 Olympic Volleyball Rehearsal: The Story Behind a Venue Decision

In the noisy wave of transfer news this summer, a short announcement about the Honda Center in Anaheim was almost drowned out by hundreds of headlines about transfer fees and roster rumors. International volleyball officials confirmed that the arena, best known as the home of the NHL's Anaheim Ducks, will host an international volleyball event, described as a 'rehearsal' for the 2028 Olympic volleyball tournament in Los Angeles. For the average fan, this is just another administrative update in the long wait between matches. But for me, someone who has spent more than a decade standing in the corridors of arenas from Chiang Mai to Tokyo, from dusty training halls to Olympic stages, this announcement is far from trivial. A hockey arena chosen as the rehearsal site for Olympic volleyball is not a decision about infrastructure. It is a statement about the direction of this sport in the coming decade. The Honda Center, located in Anaheim, California, is about a forty-five minute drive from Los Angeles. It is an architectural landmark that has witnessed thousands of hockey games, NBA matchups, and major concerts. The arena has a capacity of more than seventeen thousand seats in its sports configuration, but when converted to a volleyball setup, this number will be adjusted to optimize spectator sightlines. What makes this decision significant is not the capacity or the geographic location. What stands out is the nature of the event: this is a rehearsal, planned one year before the Olympics, to test everything from lighting and playing surface to organizational procedures for the actual Olympic tournament in 2028. When I first set foot in a hockey arena converted into a volleyball court, I learned a lesson that no textbook teaches: space is not just a backdrop for the match; it is part of the story. At the Beach Volleyball World Tour event in Toronto in 2026, I watched organizers spend three weeks converting an ice arena into a regulation sand court. The ice had to be completely melted, the underfloor cooling system had to be sealed, and hundreds of tons of sand had to be trucked in from a beach thirty kilometers away. What spectators saw was a beautiful, perfect court; what they did not see was ten thousand hours of silent labor. The same story is now being written at the Honda Center, but this time on a different scale and with a different purpose. The context of this event lies within an Olympic cycle that has changed dramatically since I began following this sport. Tokyo 2026, held during the pandemic, forced all federations to rethink how tournaments are organized under extreme conditions. The Ariake Arena, built specifically for volleyball in Tokyo, was designed as an architectural masterpiece with a wooden dome and became a symbol of investment in the sport. Paris 2026 continued this trend by using iconic city landmarks, bringing volleyball closer to the public. But Los Angeles 2028 is choosing a different path: instead of building a new structure, they are choosing to adapt existing arenas and turn them into laboratories for innovation. The Honda Center, as the rehearsal venue, is the centerpiece of that laboratory. From a purely tactical perspective, a court is a court. Volleyball court dimensions are strictly regulated: eighteen meters long, nine meters wide, net height of 2.43 meters for men and 2.24 meters for women. But anyone who has competed or worked at the highest level knows that the difference between a good court and a great court is not found in the official specifications. It is found in the feel. The grip of the floor, the elasticity of the surface, how the lights reflect into the athletes' eyes, and even how the sound of the ball echoes in the arena – all these factors create a difference that statistics never capture. The medal never tells the full story of competition day. Just as a sprinter can feel every millimeter of difference on the track, a volleyball player can feel every subtle change on the court. When a national team walks into the Honda Center for this Olympic rehearsal, they are not just competing against the opponent in front of them. They are competing against the venue itself, against the environmental factors they will have to face again in a year. This is why this rehearsal matters far more than an ordinary friendly tournament. In a traditional friendly, teams can accept minor logistical flaws. But in a rehearsal designed to simulate Olympic conditions, every detail is calculated. I have watched national teams prepare for major tournaments, and there is a clear difference between how they approach a friendly match and how they approach an official rehearsal. In a rehearsal, they document everything: ball delay, how lighting comes from above, the distance from the warm-up area to the main court. Based on my experience following matches in various arenas around the world, I can say that the difference between the Honda Center and a dedicated volleyball arena lies in how athletes move. On a dedicated court, the surface is designed to optimize grip and shock absorption. In a multi-purpose arena like the Honda Center, the court is usually wooden panels installed over concrete, potentially with a cooling system underneath from the ice rink. This creates a subtle difference in elasticity. When an athlete jumps for a block and lands, the impact on their knees and ankles varies depending on the floor structure. The physical therapy staff of national teams will analyze this data meticulously during the rehearsal, adjusting their physical preparation plans based on what they find. Converting the Honda Center from a hockey arena into an Olympic volleyball court is a complex logistical puzzle. The ice layer, about two to three centimeters thick, must be completely melted – a process that can take up to four days with continuous heating. Then, the underfloor cooling system must be fully insulated with specialized insulation panels; otherwise, cold air will seep through the wooden floor, causing condensation, mold growth, and reduced surface grip. On top of the insulation, organizers will lay a specialized rubber cushion layer, followed by sports-grade wooden flooring assembled panel by panel. The entire process takes about two weeks with a team of specially trained professionals. For the actual 2028 Olympic conditions, this process must be executed faster, under greater pressure, and with zero room for error. That is why the Honda Center rehearsal is so critical. It is not just a tournament to test the level of the national teams. It is a comprehensive operational test. The operations staff of this event will be thoroughly trained, possibly retained or transferred to the actual Olympic operations team. They will measure conversion times between sessions, crowd flow management, security systems, lighting controls, and hundreds of other details that television viewers never see. There is a little-known story about how Olympic organizers prepare competition venues: they often send 'sports architects' to major international events like the World Cup or World Championships to observe how referees move, how teams warm up, and how photographers position themselves. These observations are then translated into detailed drawings of spatial layouts. The Honda Center rehearsal will provide LA 2028 organizers their first real-world data on how a North American sports arena responds to an international volleyball event. From a media perspective, the decision to choose the Honda Center also sends a clear message about how volleyball wants to position itself in the American sports market. For decades, volleyball in the US was treated as a secondary sport, only truly noticed every four years when the US women's team appeared at the Olympics. This reality is changing rapidly. The growth of beach volleyball, the strong investment by the NCAA in women's volleyball programs, and the wave of American athletes playing professionally in Europe and Asia have created a solid foundation. The Honda Center, located near California's major universities and part of a vibrant sports region, will be an excellent window to introduce volleyball to audiences who have never watched the sport before. When they run the slowest, they begin to be honest with themselves. I use this phrase to write about athletes, but it applies perfectly to how a sport develops. During periods without major tournaments, during the months between events, when volleyball does not appear on the front pages of sports newspapers, that is when the sport must confront its real question: what do we want to become in the next ten years? The Honda Center event is an answer to that question. Volleyball does not want to continue living in the shadow of other major sports. Volleyball wants its own space, its own stage, and its own way of telling its story. The choice of California is also not coincidental. Los Angeles is a massive sports market with a diverse population, including a very large Asian-American community – a demographic particularly passionate about volleyball. Community volleyball tournaments in Little Saigon, in Koreatown, and at California high schools have long been playgrounds for thousands of immigrants. But these communities are rarely connected to elite volleyball. An event at the Honda Center, broadcast live and covered by international media, will be the first bridge between community volleyball and elite volleyball in America. Looking at attendance data from US college volleyball in recent years, I see a very clear trend: spectator numbers are rising rapidly, especially on the West Coast. Last year's NCAA Women's Volleyball Championship set a new television ratings record in the US, surpassing even the NCAA Women's Basketball Championship. This is a critical signal: American audiences are ready for volleyball. The Honda Center event will serve as a test to measure that readiness. Will American fans come to watch international volleyball on a weekday? Will they pay for tickets? Will they cheer as loudly as fans in Thailand, Japan, or Brazil? When I covered the VTV Cup in Bac Giang in 2026, I witnessed a cultural force that no spreadsheet can fully capture: thousands of Vietnamese fans packed into the arena, cheering passionately for the home team despite heavy rain outside. There are empty stadiums that speak more than a crowd. Conversely, there are crowds that say everything a sport needs to survive. Volleyball in Southeast Asia thrives precisely because of the passion of spectators. But in the US, the question remains open: can that passion be built from zero? The Honda Center event will be the first large-scale test of whether a new volleyball culture can be created in America. Those attending will include both long-time volleyball lovers and first-time spectators who have never been to a sporting event that wasn't basketball or hockey. How to retain this new audience group, how to turn them from curious onlookers into loyal fans – that will be the puzzle organizers must solve during this rehearsal. On the technical broadcast side, the Honda Center also presents unique challenges. The lighting system of a hockey arena is typically designed to create high-contrast light and shadow zones, adding drama to ice matches. But volleyball requires a more even level of illumination, especially over the playing area, to prevent athlete eye fatigue when tracking a ball traveling at over one hundred and thirty kilometers per hour. Fine-tuning the lighting system will be one of the most important elements of the rehearsal, because when entering the actual Olympic tournament a year later, all lighting issues must be fully resolved. Lighting is not the only concern; air conditioning also matters. A hockey arena typically has an HVAC system designed to maintain temperatures around fifteen degrees Celsius – the ideal temperature for ice. But volleyball is a high-intensity sport, and athletes will sweat far more than hockey players. If the temperature is too low, the risk of muscle injuries increases; if too high, athletes will dehydrate quickly. Finding the balance between humidity, temperature, and airflow within the arena will be a technical puzzle that Honda Center engineers must solve during the rehearsal. There is a detail I learned from my years as a track and field reporter: athletes often have very particular relationships with their competition spaces. A long jumper will spend hours measuring every step of their approach. A sprinter will test the track's elasticity by squatting down and pressing their hands onto the surface. These behaviors are not superstition; they are how athletes gather data about their environment. In volleyball, athletes will display similar behaviors when stepping onto the Honda Center court. They will test the floor grip by sliding their feet, try jumping and touching the net to feel its tension, observe the airflow from the AC system to calculate ball trajectory. To outsiders, these details seem trivial. But for elite athletes, they determine everything. Every finish line is just a place to begin another question. And the Honda Center rehearsal is where the most important questions begin. The world's top national teams – Brazil, Italy, Poland, the US, Japan, Thailand in the women's group – will each bring their own challenges to competing at the Honda Center. For these teams, the rehearsal is not just about winning; it is about gathering data about themselves under simulated Olympic conditions. Coaches will meticulously document how their athletes respond to the pressure of competing in a new venue, how they sleep in nearby hotels, and how they adjust their circadian rhythms to a new time zone. This data will be analyzed in closed-door meetings and used to adjust Olympic preparation plans. For Asian teams, becoming familiar with an American-style arena a year in advance is also a strategic advantage. Time zones, diet, and American logistical culture differ greatly from Asia. This rehearsal gives them the opportunity to understand those differences without paying the price of official competition results. But looking more closely, the Honda Center story has a potential dark side – something hasty optimists might overlook. The so-called 'rehearsal' can create a false sense of security. One year is a very long time in sports. Rosters can change, coaches can be replaced, and athletes can suffer injuries. A successful rehearsal does not guarantee that the actual Olympic tournament will run smoothly. Conversely, a problematic rehearsal can be a valuable test, helping organizers identify weaknesses before it's too late. The real question is: will LA 2028 organizers have the courage to confront the issues uncovered during the rehearsal head-on, or will they hastily bury them for the sake of pride? I have seen too many times, in my writing career, sports organizers turn an inspection into a showcase event. Everyone wants perfection, everyone wants to flaunt achievements, and in the process, real problems get hidden. The Honda Center rehearsal will be a double-edged test: it tests the capabilities of Olympic organizers, but it also tests the culture of honesty in international sports management. Will they accept that a rehearsal can have issues, and turn those issues into valuable lessons? Or will they deny, conceal, and blame external factors? There is another, possibly counterintuitive, perspective on this event: choosing the Honda Center as the rehearsal venue is also a commercial statement. In the modern sports world, international federations no longer care only about sports excellence; they care about building new markets. World volleyball, led by FIVB, has taken decisive steps to expand into the North American market. The Volleyball Club World Championship has been held in the US with unprecedented media investment. Hosting an international volleyball event at the Honda Center, within the framework of Olympic preparation, is a way for FIVB to build relationships with American sponsors and American broadcast networks. If this event attracts a large live audience and high television ratings, it will be a powerful signal to potential sponsors that volleyball is worth investing in in America. But precisely this commercial factor can also distort the meaning of the rehearsal. When an event becomes a commercial tool, competition decisions can be influenced by external factors. For example, the match schedule might be rearranged to fit American television prime time instead of optimal athlete performance windows. The selection of participating teams might be influenced by media appeal rather than sporting merit. These pressures are real, and I have witnessed their impact in many international sports events. The question is whether organizers will be wise enough to keep this rehearsal focused on its original purpose – preparing for the actual Olympics – or let commercial factors disrupt it. Returning to volleyball itself: one of the things that impresses me most about this sport is its globality. In a World League volleyball match, I can see a Brazilian coach leading a European team, with a Cuban athlete setting for a Polish athlete delivering a spike. Volleyball naturally erases national boundaries, and this is clearly reflected in how athletes and coaches move around the world. An event at the Honda Center, just before the 2028 Olympics, is a convergence point for these global sports cultural flows. The personal stories, internal struggles, and silent sacrifices of hundreds of athletes will be revealed on a court worthy of their stature. The fear of a young athlete is visible light. When I interviewed Fah, Thailand's young long jumper, I learned that behind every record is a human being struggling with fears that have no name. Likewise, behind every arena chosen as a rehearsal venue are calculated decisions and unspoken worries. The Honda Center is not just a building with seventeen thousand seats. It is a promise: a promise that this sport will have a better tomorrow, that athletes training in dilapidated arenas in Africa, Southeast Asia, and South America will have the opportunity to shine on a worthy stage. In my article 'The Girl Running in the Dark 2026,' I sought to honor the stillness of athletes when there were no spectators, no spotlights. I wrote about how they kept training, kept dreaming, kept hoping during the pandemic months that halted all tournaments. I remember that during that time, many volleyball players had to train at home, using a rope instead of a net, using a wall instead of a teammate. They kept their dreams alive in that darkness. And now, the Honda Center event is proof that those dreams are being rewarded. That court, with brilliant lights and packed stands, is where they will step out of the darkness and into the light. Looking ahead, I believe the Honda Center story will not end with the rehearsal. It will open a new chapter in how Olympic sports events are organized in America. Instead of building grandiose structures that are abandoned after the Olympics end, the trend of adapting existing arenas, upgrading them to Olympic standards, and turning them into long-term legacies for local communities – this is a much more sustainable model. The Honda Center will continue to serve the people of Anaheim after 2028 concludes. It will continue to host hockey games, concerts, and hopefully many more volleyball events in the future. The temporary court will be dismantled, the ice layer will be recreated, but the lessons about how to organize an Olympic-class volleyball event will remain, as an intangible legacy that no medal can carry away or fully describe. Victory is not about overcoming others; it is about catching up with lost belief. And for world volleyball, the Honda Center event is an opportunity to catch up with the belief that this sport deserves a major place on the global sports map. Between two waves of cheering, I hear something called the loneliness of achievement. I will remember this phrase when I walk into the Honda Center for the rehearsal. No matter how packed the stands are, no matter how loud the cheering, every athlete on the court still faces themselves – their fears, their doubts, the limits of their bodies. The arena is just the backdrop. The real story is the people within it, and what they overcame to be there. As I conclude this article, I remember a night in a small gym in Chiang Mai, when I first stepped into this profession. It was a youth tournament, no spectators, no television, only parents sitting on creaky wooden stands and fourteen- or fifteen-year-old kids playing with burning hearts. I could not have known that ten years later, I would write about a volleyball event at a seventeen-thousand-seat arena, serving as the rehearsal for the Olympic Games. But the story of those kids in Chiang Mai, just like the story of the Honda Center, shares a common thread: both speak to the power of sporting dreams, to how a ball flying over the net can connect people across every boundary of geography, culture, and language. On rehearsal day, the Honda Center will be where the voice of this sport rings out the loudest. The question is not whether we can hear it. The question is whether we understand its meaning, whether we are ready to let this story change how we view volleyball and the Olympics in the future. Because, as I have written many times throughout my career, the medal never tells the full story of competition day. And likewise, a venue decision is never just a venue decision.