Long Beach State University Athletics
Beach Reads: More Than A Routine
3/31/2026 10:36:00 AM | Men's Volleyball
Connor Bloom, a clap, and the making of a moment everyone now shares
LONG BEACH, Calif. -- Before he moves his feet, before the toss, before the serve leaves his hand, there's a sound.
Clap.
Not just one. At first, hundreds. Now thousands. Perfectly in sync, echoing through the LBS Financial Credit Union Pyramid, rising from a student section that caught on first and then pulled the rest of the arena with it. Opponents notice it immediately. Teammates feel it. And at the center of it all is Connor Bloom, steady at the service line, unfazed by the noise he helped create without ever really trying to.
"It's just my routine," he says. "I didn't have any hand in it becoming popular."
Head coach Nick MacRae sees something deeper in that moment, something that reflects who Bloom is beyond the serve.
"I know everyone has seen LB Nation connect with Connor on and off the court and unite with a 'clap,'" MacRae says. "These little details are reminders of how much love the fans have for him."
But that's the thing about Bloom. His impact rarely starts as something loud or attention-seeking. It builds until it becomes something bigger than him.
The clap is just the most visible (and audible) version of that.
For someone whose presence now fills an arena, Bloom's story is rooted in something quieter, more constant: home.
Growing up in Huntington Beach and staying local through Orange Lutheran and Long Beach State, Southern California isn't just a backdrop, it's part of how he understands himself. The ocean, especially, is a through line.
"The beach and the ocean are a big part of my experience growing up and who I am," he says. "I deeply enjoy the ocean and everything around it."
That ease, his grounded nature, shows up in how he carries himself. Teammates describe him as steady, trustworthy, someone who doesn't overstep but is always there. It's a personality shaped as much by salt air and open space as it is by years in competitive gyms.
"Long Beach State men's volleyball is built on our culture, our standards, and how we compete each and every day," MacRae says. "Connor Bloom has constantly been one of the greatest standard bearers in our LB Family, and that is not an easy task."
But volleyball didn't always have him to itself.
At Orange Lutheran, Bloom was a multi-sport athlete, splitting time between volleyball, basketball, and football. It took a moment, a very specific one, to sharpen his focus.
As a freshman on varsity, he found himself serving in a CIF Southern Section Division II championship match. He missed.
But the missed serve wasn't what stayed with him. It was everything around it.
"That glimpse at a championship level made me realize I'm on a good team, I'm here as a freshman, and I can actually be good at this," he says. "That made me want to stick with volleyball."
From there, his path was anything but linear.
Bloom has never been easy to categorize on the court. Middle blocker. Opposite. Outside hitter. Sometimes all of them in the same season.
That positional fluidity started early in club, where he shifted roles constantly, and it followed him into high school and college. It didn't just make him versatile; it made him comfortable being uncomfortable.
"I've been playing multiple roles for a while now," he says. "I was okay playing wherever, really."
That mindset became critical when he arrived at Long Beach State.
He redshirted his first year, a decision shaped in part by timing and roster reality. Sharing a position group with a player like Alex Nikolov, AVCA Player of the Year and Newcomer of the Year (the only player to earn both in the same year before his younger brother, Moni Nikolov did the same in 2025) meant immediate playing time wasn't guaranteed. Instead of forcing it, Bloom used the year to build.
"It gave me time to develop physically and mentally," he says. "To learn the system and adjust to college volleyball."
That patience would define much of what came next.
Over five years, Bloom's role has shifted repeatedly. Early Big West Freshman of the Week recognition. Limited rotations. Serving specialist. Spot starter. Co-captain.
From the outside, those changes can look like inconsistency. From the inside, they require a different kind of discipline.
"You lean on your guys," he says. "Everyone can lead on this team. It's not just one person."
His growth hasn't been about chasing numbers. It's been about changing how he responds to them, or to their absence.
"The biggest thing is being okay with mistakes," he says. "When I came in, I'd get down on myself right away. Now I understand failing is part of it. It's how you learn."
That shift, more than any stat line, is what allowed him to stay ready.
Because when his number is called, there's no runway.
As a serving specialist, the margin for error is razor thin. One swing, one outcome. The pressure is immediate.
Bloom meets it with routine. A consistent set of cues. A quiet mantra. A return to what he calls "ground zero."
Then the clap.
What started as a personal rhythm his freshman year of high school turned into something else entirely during his third year at Long Beach State.
A friend in the student section matched his timing. Then a few more. Then the entire student section. Eventually, the whole arena.
Now, it's automatic.
"Every game, I go in and the entire gym is on top of it," he says. "I get people coming up after like, 'we love the clap.'"
He still treats it the same way he always has. As routine. As preparation.
But he notices what it does to others.
"I love watching the other team's reaction the first time," he says. "Hearing the entire stadium clap at once."
It's disorienting. It's loud. It's uniquely Long Beach.
And it belongs, in a way, to Bloom.
That blend of individuality and team identity mirrors how he approaches competition.
On the court, he understands what's required.
"You kind of have to be a bit of a jerk sometimes," he says, half-laughing. "You have to push people, get under skin, compete."
Off the court, that edge disappears.
"You have to separate that from who you are," he says. "You can't be that all the time."
It's a balance he's had to learn, especially as his leadership role expanded. What started as quiet example evolved into something more intentional. Not louder, necessarily, but more confident.
"At first I felt a little undeserving," he says. "But that was just self-doubt. Now I'm comfortable just being myself as a leader."
That version of Bloom is less about speeches and more about reliability and being someone teammates can trust. Someone who shows up the same way, every day.
"Connor leads by example, he sweeps the sheds each and every day, and he lives a life of selfless service," MacRae says. "It is not easy to live a life in which you constantly lead by example like Connor does and I am so proud of how he exemplifies this."
Success, for him, is already tangible. A national championship, Big West titles and a program that expects to win and often does.
"I came in wanting to win a national championship, and we did," he says. "Now it's about doing it again."
But his perspective has widened.
Performance, he insists, is not identity.
"Your performance doesn't define who you are," he says. "It's separate."
That understanding, reinforced by teammates, family, and the game itself, has allowed him to stay grounded through the inevitable ups and downs of a long career.
It's also what frees him to think about what comes next, even if the picture isn't fully clear.
"Connor Bloom is an incredible man who shows up every day to learn, to give his all, and to bring others along with him with pure intent," MacRae says. "He is a true representative of our university, community, and program."
He plans to play internationally. Beyond that, he's open. Interested in staying in sports, maybe through his graduate work in sport management, maybe through something else entirely.
"I'm still figuring that out," he says.
For now, there's volleyball. There's the routine. There's that one moment. Clap.
When Bloom thinks about what will last, it isn't just the big wins.
"The natty, for sure," he says. "Conference tournaments."
But just as quickly, he shifts to something else.
"The little things. Time with teammates. Practices. Hanging out. Those are the things I'll cherish."
And when his time at Long Beach State ends, he hopes he's remembered simply.
As a teammate: trustworthy. Reliable. Someone who worked.
As a player: someone who could come off the bench cold and deliver.
And maybe, too, as the one who found a way, almost by accident, to bring an entire arena together in a single moment.
Clap.
Then serve.
Clap.
Not just one. At first, hundreds. Now thousands. Perfectly in sync, echoing through the LBS Financial Credit Union Pyramid, rising from a student section that caught on first and then pulled the rest of the arena with it. Opponents notice it immediately. Teammates feel it. And at the center of it all is Connor Bloom, steady at the service line, unfazed by the noise he helped create without ever really trying to.
"It's just my routine," he says. "I didn't have any hand in it becoming popular."
Head coach Nick MacRae sees something deeper in that moment, something that reflects who Bloom is beyond the serve.
"I know everyone has seen LB Nation connect with Connor on and off the court and unite with a 'clap,'" MacRae says. "These little details are reminders of how much love the fans have for him."
But that's the thing about Bloom. His impact rarely starts as something loud or attention-seeking. It builds until it becomes something bigger than him.
The clap is just the most visible (and audible) version of that.
For someone whose presence now fills an arena, Bloom's story is rooted in something quieter, more constant: home.
Growing up in Huntington Beach and staying local through Orange Lutheran and Long Beach State, Southern California isn't just a backdrop, it's part of how he understands himself. The ocean, especially, is a through line.
"The beach and the ocean are a big part of my experience growing up and who I am," he says. "I deeply enjoy the ocean and everything around it."
That ease, his grounded nature, shows up in how he carries himself. Teammates describe him as steady, trustworthy, someone who doesn't overstep but is always there. It's a personality shaped as much by salt air and open space as it is by years in competitive gyms.
"Long Beach State men's volleyball is built on our culture, our standards, and how we compete each and every day," MacRae says. "Connor Bloom has constantly been one of the greatest standard bearers in our LB Family, and that is not an easy task."
But volleyball didn't always have him to itself.
At Orange Lutheran, Bloom was a multi-sport athlete, splitting time between volleyball, basketball, and football. It took a moment, a very specific one, to sharpen his focus.
As a freshman on varsity, he found himself serving in a CIF Southern Section Division II championship match. He missed.
But the missed serve wasn't what stayed with him. It was everything around it.
"That glimpse at a championship level made me realize I'm on a good team, I'm here as a freshman, and I can actually be good at this," he says. "That made me want to stick with volleyball."
From there, his path was anything but linear.
Bloom has never been easy to categorize on the court. Middle blocker. Opposite. Outside hitter. Sometimes all of them in the same season.
That positional fluidity started early in club, where he shifted roles constantly, and it followed him into high school and college. It didn't just make him versatile; it made him comfortable being uncomfortable.
"I've been playing multiple roles for a while now," he says. "I was okay playing wherever, really."
That mindset became critical when he arrived at Long Beach State.
He redshirted his first year, a decision shaped in part by timing and roster reality. Sharing a position group with a player like Alex Nikolov, AVCA Player of the Year and Newcomer of the Year (the only player to earn both in the same year before his younger brother, Moni Nikolov did the same in 2025) meant immediate playing time wasn't guaranteed. Instead of forcing it, Bloom used the year to build.
"It gave me time to develop physically and mentally," he says. "To learn the system and adjust to college volleyball."
That patience would define much of what came next.
Over five years, Bloom's role has shifted repeatedly. Early Big West Freshman of the Week recognition. Limited rotations. Serving specialist. Spot starter. Co-captain.
From the outside, those changes can look like inconsistency. From the inside, they require a different kind of discipline.
"You lean on your guys," he says. "Everyone can lead on this team. It's not just one person."
His growth hasn't been about chasing numbers. It's been about changing how he responds to them, or to their absence.
"The biggest thing is being okay with mistakes," he says. "When I came in, I'd get down on myself right away. Now I understand failing is part of it. It's how you learn."
That shift, more than any stat line, is what allowed him to stay ready.
Because when his number is called, there's no runway.
As a serving specialist, the margin for error is razor thin. One swing, one outcome. The pressure is immediate.
Bloom meets it with routine. A consistent set of cues. A quiet mantra. A return to what he calls "ground zero."
Then the clap.
What started as a personal rhythm his freshman year of high school turned into something else entirely during his third year at Long Beach State.
A friend in the student section matched his timing. Then a few more. Then the entire student section. Eventually, the whole arena.
Now, it's automatic.
"Every game, I go in and the entire gym is on top of it," he says. "I get people coming up after like, 'we love the clap.'"
He still treats it the same way he always has. As routine. As preparation.
But he notices what it does to others.
"I love watching the other team's reaction the first time," he says. "Hearing the entire stadium clap at once."
It's disorienting. It's loud. It's uniquely Long Beach.
And it belongs, in a way, to Bloom.
That blend of individuality and team identity mirrors how he approaches competition.
On the court, he understands what's required.
"You kind of have to be a bit of a jerk sometimes," he says, half-laughing. "You have to push people, get under skin, compete."
Off the court, that edge disappears.
"You have to separate that from who you are," he says. "You can't be that all the time."
It's a balance he's had to learn, especially as his leadership role expanded. What started as quiet example evolved into something more intentional. Not louder, necessarily, but more confident.
"At first I felt a little undeserving," he says. "But that was just self-doubt. Now I'm comfortable just being myself as a leader."
That version of Bloom is less about speeches and more about reliability and being someone teammates can trust. Someone who shows up the same way, every day.
"Connor leads by example, he sweeps the sheds each and every day, and he lives a life of selfless service," MacRae says. "It is not easy to live a life in which you constantly lead by example like Connor does and I am so proud of how he exemplifies this."
Success, for him, is already tangible. A national championship, Big West titles and a program that expects to win and often does.
"I came in wanting to win a national championship, and we did," he says. "Now it's about doing it again."
But his perspective has widened.
Performance, he insists, is not identity.
"Your performance doesn't define who you are," he says. "It's separate."
That understanding, reinforced by teammates, family, and the game itself, has allowed him to stay grounded through the inevitable ups and downs of a long career.
It's also what frees him to think about what comes next, even if the picture isn't fully clear.
"Connor Bloom is an incredible man who shows up every day to learn, to give his all, and to bring others along with him with pure intent," MacRae says. "He is a true representative of our university, community, and program."
He plans to play internationally. Beyond that, he's open. Interested in staying in sports, maybe through his graduate work in sport management, maybe through something else entirely.
"I'm still figuring that out," he says.
For now, there's volleyball. There's the routine. There's that one moment. Clap.
When Bloom thinks about what will last, it isn't just the big wins.
"The natty, for sure," he says. "Conference tournaments."
But just as quickly, he shifts to something else.
"The little things. Time with teammates. Practices. Hanging out. Those are the things I'll cherish."
And when his time at Long Beach State ends, he hopes he's remembered simply.
As a teammate: trustworthy. Reliable. Someone who worked.
As a player: someone who could come off the bench cold and deliver.
And maybe, too, as the one who found a way, almost by accident, to bring an entire arena together in a single moment.
Clap.
Then serve.
Players Mentioned
OH/OPP
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