As a young kid, the possibilities to play a sport are endless. There’s no reason why you can’t play basketball, and baseball, and soccer all at once. But then soon enough, you grow up and realize there’s one sport maybe you like a little more than the rest. For me, that wasn’t the case. I wanted to be a part of something that defined greatness. Yet, I am probably the most uncoordinated, and clumsy person alive. I can barely run straight without tripping over my feet, and most of the time my hand eye coordination skills are below average. So naturally I decided to play softball.
They say there’s a reason why Peter Pan never wanted to grow up, and I think I’ve figured that out through the sport I swore I wouldn’t miss. If I went out on the field it was a miracle or due to a lack of players that day. I wasn’t fast enough, or skilled enough, but still I showed up every day. I caught fly balls, and took practice swings for the games I would never play in. But I never let that stop me because somewhere deep, deep, deep, down inside of me I knew I loved the game more than I would ever let anyone know.
Nine people step onto a field, that’s it. But the fate of the game is not defined by those nine. Sure, the catches and hits and amazing plays need to be done by those starting players. But I’ve seen the game from another view. I’ve seen the game from the bench behind a fence. I’ve been that person to change the music, and adjust the scoreboard and warm up the pitcher. I’ve cheered for the wins and cried for the losses, even when my best contribution to the team was changing a song that day. When you grow up playing sports, you’re never told it’s okay to sit the bench because who wouldn’t want their name written in big bold letters on the front page of the newspaper? But for me, getting the credit for the win wasn’t the best part of the game.
The perfect day in the spring was when the sun was shining, the field was raked, and the white lines were straight and crisp. Game days were the reward for the brutal practices that were endured every day, because for those two hours, nothing mattered. It didn’t matter if you failed your algebra test or your friends were mad, because it was game day.
Softball is about obligation to do the best thing for the team. It’s about sacrifice and dedication, but it’s also about greatness. Usually when people play sports for a good portion of their lives, they get better. Unfortunately for me, my skill level never got better. Somehow though, I think I became a better person for the years I spent on the bench.
The game is so much more than an infield, and an outfield and it’s much more than 3 strikes. A team is a family, it has its ups and downs, wins and losses but through it all, that family sticks together. Through it all, it’s one team, one dream and because of what softball taught me, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could lace up my cleats just one last time.
