It’s almost that time of year. Time to pull your cleats out of the closet and clap them on the driveway, knocking off the old clumps of sand and brushing off the dust. Time to pull out last season’s grey uniform pants and decide whether they can survive one more season. Another season of quick dinners and after-school practices. Another season of weekend games and making new memories.
Believe it or not, you’re going to remember these days. Even if you continue to play through middle school, high school – even college – you’re going to remember these awkward beginning seasons. You’re going to remember starting at the bottom and learning all the skills: how to hold the bat and how to wear your glove. When you’re older, it’s going to seem silly that you had to actually be taught how to do these things. I mean, who needs to be taught how to wear their glove!? But the truth is, everyone has to start where you did. All of the great softball players started where you did, having to be taught how to hold their bat and wear their gloves. And look at them now.
When you look back, you’re going to remember your first teammates. Your first coach. You’re going to remember the color of your very first softball bag, and you’ll probably even be able to remember the name of your first softball team. I never thought I’d remember those small details, but I do. I was in kindergarten when I joined my first t-ball team; I was the only girl on a team of boys. We were Wally’s Wonders, and my coach was my best friend’s dad. He was extremely encouraging, and he was the one who taught me that I could be just as good as the boys on the team. I got teased a lot by the boys on my t-ball team – that’s right, a group of little boys used to tease me because I was the only girl on the team. They told me that I couldn’t play as well as they could because I was a girl. They told me I couldn’t hit as hard as they could, and I couldn’t field the balls as well as they could. You’ll hear that, too. Boys who play baseball will tell you that softball isn’t the same, that it isn’t as hard, and that you’re not as good an athlete as they are. But that’s not true. Don’t let what they say get to you. I was the first one on the team to start hitting without the tee, and I was able to field just as well as the boys on the team. All that to say – don’t listen to the negativity.
This is your second season. I remember sitting in the bleachers of the elementary school, watching as you worked with your coach and your team makes to learn the basics. I remember feeling my heart swell with pride when you turned to me, a wide smile across your face, when you caught a ball in your glove and didn’t drop it.
Watching you out on the field, kicking up the sand and picking rocks out of the grass made me remember when I was standing out there, eagerly awaiting a ball to come my way. As the season progressed, you got better at batting and better at fielding, and my heart swelled with pride. I cried when you crushed a ball during your first softball game; you turned to me from first based and waved. I smiled and gave you a thumbs up, and tears filled my eyes.
In watching you play, I’ve watched you grow. You’re trying new things and coming out of your shell. You’re making new friends and you’re creating memories that will last the rest of your life. Even if you stop playing softball in a few years, I hope that you’ll look back on these years and remember all the fun you had. I hope that you’ll remember the laughs you shared with your teammates as you tried to scale the fence. I hope that you’ll remember the bonds that you created as you sat on the bench cheering on your friends as they were up to bat – and listening as your friends cheered you on. They seem like small and trivial moments of your life, but I can promise you’ll look back on these memories, and you’ll smile.
My little girl in the softball jersey – keep your elbow up and your pants dirty.
