You put on your uniform the same you do every other day. Socks, pants, tank top, jersey. Number 25 on your back, Ledyard on your front. Your eye black goes on the same way; a straight line across each cheek. Maybe a little curve at the end if you were feeling adventurous. Your headphones go on. Your pre-game playlist turned up. Eminem ringing through your ears.

“‘Cause sometimes you just feel tired, feel weak
And when you feel weak, you feel like you wanna just give up
But you gotta search within you
And gotta find that inner strength
And just pull that shit out of you
And get that motivation to not give up
And not be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face, and collapse”

You put your cleats on, you grab your glove. Finally, you take a deep breath as your cleats touch the infield. It’s a game just like any other. What’s so special then? Well, this the day you walk on the field for the very last time.

You’ve mentally prepared yourself for this day. You’ve told yourself all the things you think you’re going to feel. However, no matter how much you think you have it all under control, it will not even be close to what really happens.

The lights turn on and a tingling sensation rushes through your body. Night games have always been your favorite. You take every little moment in. the sights, the smells, who your throwing partner is, where your parents are sitting, what songs were playing over the sound system.

As you hear your name being called for the final time, here is my advice;

Remember as many details as you can. How was the weather? Did it smell like cut grass or French fries from the concession stand? Where are your parents sitting?

Next bit of advice, play hard. I’m not saying you haven’t up to this point, but play. Leave every ounce of you on that field. At the end of the game, I want you to be able to say that you gave it everything you got, no matter if there is a win or loss on the scoreboard.

When you get your final at bat, swing, as hard as you can. Give yourself the chance of getting a last big game hit.

When it officially is over, it is going to hit you a lot harder than you ever expected. It’s definitely okay to cry. It’s definitely okay to feel devastated. Go hug your parents. They might not act like it, but they are feeling exactly how you are at this moment. Take your time getting your stuff out of the dugout. Take a moment to take in the field you spent your whole life playing on. In some ways, it became your home.

Once you drive away you’ll become a spectator. You’re not going to remember the score. You might not even remember everyone that was on your team. You will remember however how you played, how you felt, and if you had any regrets leaving that day. As the lights turn off and you walk off the field for the final time, be sad that it’s over. No one will ever blame you for that. Smile, however, because you know that no matter what happened, you left leaving everything on that patch of dirt you considered home.