Pre-season softball is where all the kinks are worked out and where the people that worked hard all summer out-shine those who didn’t. It’s a great time for softball teams across the nation because you get to see where you're team is at compared to where you need to be and you actually have the time to work on it. One of the various tools we use to measure where our team is at is inter-squads. An inter-squad is when we split our team up into two and play each other usually with poles or bragging rights on the line. While it’s normal for the freshmen to be a little nervous because it’s the first time they’re sharing the field competitively with their new teammates, for upperclassmen, not so much.

From the moment I saw the email with the week’s schedule and our first inter-squad on it, my hands didn't stop sweating. I’m convinced most of the water that was going down the drain while I was showering that whole week leading up to our inter-squad was from my hands and not the shower head. It was bad. The night before I couldn't sleep. I had dreams that I would walk up to the batters box and wouldn’t lift the bat off my shoulder. At one point I also had a dream that I walked up to the batters box without a bat.

The day of the inter-squad I went to weights, class and therapy like normal. It was just supposed to be another normal day. Walking up to the field felt normal but as soon as I set my stuff down a terrible case of diarrhea of the mouth set in. I couldn't shut up. During warm-ups I took probably an extra 50 swings trying to convince myself that I still knew how to swing a bat.

That’s what injuries do to you. They make you think you can’t be the same athlete you once were. My last real at-bat was before rotator cuff surgery, my freshmen year on May 5, 2015. I had to sit out my entire sophomore year.

So here I am, walking up to the batter’s box (bat in hand for those wondering) and I couldn't be any more nervous. At this point I’m starting to worry that I’m going to dehydrate myself from all the sweating I’m doing.

One thing I always did growing up was grab dirt and wipe my hands with it. I didn't realize I was doing it until after I was done. It was as if my body hadn’t forgotten what to do after all. I put my right foot in the batter’s box, then the left. I did a low half swing towards the pitcher, almost mimicking a golfer to get lose and then lifted the bat to my shoulder. The pitcher, my teammate, got her sign and started her whined-up and I started my load without having to tell myself so. I exhaled, I focused in, I was ready. Curveball off the plate, ball one. She proceeded to throw two more balls and then a strike. The count is now 3-1.

I was already proud of myself because before surgery I was one of the most aggressive hitters I knew. Very rarely did I ever go deep in the count and here I am my first at-bat back with a 3-1 count. I suppose after waiting almost two years for another at-bat, the least I could do was wait for a good pitch to hit. I don’t remember much about the next pitch. I just know that I swung and saw it fly off the bat so I started running. I ran like that was the last time I was going to ever run again and when I stopped I found myself at third base. I wasn’t too sure of what had just happened and it took seeing the happiness and joy on my teammates faces to realize what I had done. All I could think was “Holy crap, I’m a real softball player again.” I was overcome with so many emotions I forgot to thank God until I was back in the dugout.

I’ve been waiting for that at-bat for a long long time. And even though it was just an inter-squad against one of my own teammates, to me it was so much more. It was me not giving in and not letting my surgery define me or my career. I still have a long way to go, but I’ve found that this process is all about the little wins. Last Thursday at on our softball field in front of our Good Lord and my teammates, I got a big one.