Dear Dad,
The other day we walked by a young girl, her dad sitting on a bucket roughly forty feet away from her. It was obvious we both felt a bit nostalgic. This has been our ritual for over a decade, and it is about to end. I am a rising college senior, and soon this routine will be over. We will throw one last work out. Still, softball will always be a part of our life. The bonds we formed pitching in the pouring rain or during heat warnings will never break.
My entire life you have always supported me on and off the field. You have never told me there was something I can't do. Throughout my softball career, you have given me endless encouragement. However, you never forced me to play. I firmly believe that contributed to my love for the game. Many girls resent their parents because they order them to practice or yell when they’re not successful; this was never the case. It was always me dragging you out front or up to the field to pitch. You've always provided any support you could to help me see my dreams through. When I wanted to play for a more competitive team, I came to you and then you drove me to practice two and half hours each way. I am certain there were days you would have rather slept in or watched football, but you chose me. You and mom have always picked the needs of Mike, Kerry or me over your own.
I know I don’t always say thank you, but please know I am beyond grateful for everything you and mom have done. Most children don’t brag about their parents but trust me I do. I often tell the story about when you rented a tennis court so I could get one last pitching workout in before my team flew to Florida. You might not remember the story because to you it wasn’t a sacrifice; it was a typical day. The doctor had just recently cleared me to play after ACL reconstruction, and this was the last tournament for the fall. I had been out for so long, and we both knew how important this tournament was to my recruiting process, so we drove to the gym in a tropical storm and pitched in the indoor tennis courts.
I would love to say that story is unique, and in reflection, it is quite comical. However, your selflessness is the norm. Over the last decade, you have spent an exorbitant amount of time sitting on a bucket in every conceivable weather condition. I am certain that you have permanent bruises on your shins from all the drop balls I have thrown at you. You have paid for pitching lessons, strength coaches, and camps. You’ve spent countless dollars on everything from gloves and bats to spinners and weighted balls. You may have gone without, but none of us ever did; you wouldn’t allow it.
From ACL tears to epilepsy, the last few years have been paved with ups and downs. However, you never gave up on me, and you taught me to be strong. When I am struggling in a game, I hear your voice telling me to push through or I think about your pre-game texts telling me to attack every pitch (By the way, I am going to miss those. Maybe after college you can send me pre-meeting texts). Nevertheless, we have one last year together, and then it will be time to find a new ritual. I am not sure what it will be, but I do know if you're there, I am happy.
Love,
Maggie
