Tell me a field in which being in the 96th percentile is considered a failure.

Off the top of my head, The Hunger Games is the only circumstance in which anything less than the top 1 percent is an irredeemable error.

If you’re the CEO of a company in the top 4 percent of the Fortune 500, you’re a billionaire. The top 4 percent of high school students get full-ride scholarships to colleges I make fun of out of insecurity. Even the top 4 percent of crab fishermen can support their families and get extra screen time on Deadliest Catch (having cable again is influencing my references).

In almost all walks of life, you don’t have to be the best to be successful.

Sports, however, doesn’t allow for much wiggle room.

There are 100 teams in Division 1 of the National Junior College Athletics Association, and the Northwest College volleyball team finished fourth out of all of them.

In a vacuum, that’s amazing.

(Editor’s note: Full disclosure, as an assistant coach, I am a biased party and cannot remove myself from the story. Nor would I want to.)

Because the failure aspect of it (the Trappers finished their season with consecutive losses) is so black and white, it’s hard for people in and out of the program to process and accept the losses.

In the past 48 hours, I’ve experienced first-hand how expectations mold reactions and affect people’s level of investment in the team and tournament.

After receiving messages of congratulations from unexpected sources following Thursday’s wins, it was complete radio silence after Friday’s loss eliminated the Trappers from title contention. Those who were cheering the victories would rather say nothing — perhaps hoping I’d forget of their existence — than even acknowledge the loss.

Last season, when Northwest also finished fourth in the nation, we heard various versions of, “That was amazing!”

Why?

Expectations.

The reason for their turn had less to do with our loss and everything to do with their expectations.

In 2014, the Trappers were never the highest-ranked team in their conference, yet emerged from Region IX North to compete at nationals, where they were seeded ninth. Respectable, but middle of the pack, and, on paper, never a favorite in any of their matches. But the Trappers pulled off a first-round upset for the second straight season before knocking off the No. 1 team in the country in the quarterfinals.

This season, the Trappers were seeded third and anything less than a semifinal appearance would have been considered falling short.

Less than five minutes after Friday’s semifinal loss to Western Nebraska I was told, in person, “Well, that wasn’t good.”

Admittedly, my memory isn’t the greatest, but I was still keenly aware of not only the loss, but that we put in a season’s worth of work in order to win.

Fast forward two days later and I was asked in an otherwise pleasant conversation, “Who was that team that annihilated you?”

That was so “too soon” it made me laugh.

I long ago learned that expectations can be a killer to the mental fortitude of a team. To expect anything other than your absolute best effort when you compete is to limit your chances for success. If you expect perfection and get anything but, it’s much tougher to recover. If you expect an easy match and get punched in the face on the first play, it will be much harder to punch back.

I know this. The players knew this. But most fans — of any sport of any level — expect what they want, and what they want is wins.

And they’re not wrong. That’s the life of being a a fan — an outside observer.

No one is wrong to expect or hope or root for more than what the outcome ends up being. I can assure you we all wanted more. The Trappers didn’t enter the tournament fighting for fourth place.

And it can’t be said enough how much the Trappers loved the support from friends, fans and community members.

But it’s funny how expectations drastically alter reactions when things, almost inevitably, deviate from preconceived notions.

Expectations, man. I tell ya.