I started playing softball when I was 6 years old. It’s been over 15 years now, and as I approach the end of my competitive career I can look back and see that the game of softball has taught me a lot. The game has taught me to never give up, to work hard and to keep getting better.
In my years playing, I’ve played on some really good teams and some not-so-great teams. I’ve had awesome teammates, and I’ve had crappy teammates. I’ve played for some of the best coaches in the game, and some who still have a lot to learn. My love of the game has kept me going through the bad and the good, through the highs and the lows, through the losses as well as the wins.
Recently in my career as a softball player, I went through a bit of a slump hitting. When batting, you never want to get down in the count. After a pitcher is up two strikes, a batter can feel defeated, but a mentally strong batter can battle back. I often hit leadoff, and quite honestly I often pride myself on my mental game. I know the game well, read the ball well and almost always can predict what kind of pitch is coming next.
Once I started to get into my slump, though, the story changed. I suddenly lost all of my confidence at the plate. I was swinging at balls in the dirt and even chasing rise balls (which I never do). I knew in my head that I could turn things around — I’ve literally swung a bat thousands upon thousands of times — but it wasn’t until talking to my dad that things changed.
After my chat with my dad, I took out my tee and worked on my form. It wasn’t my form that had the problem — it was my mind. After getting to talk to my dad and concentrating on what I knew I could do, I got my game back on track and started hitting the ball again.
I wish hitting poorly was the worst I’ve ever experienced on a softball field, but I’ve also witnessed some pretty poor coaching. In a normal travel ball season, a team typically plays anywhere from 50 to 70 games. One summer, when I was 14, my team played a total of 27 games. That’s right. I have that number memorized. Travel consists of playing year round, weekly practices, player fees (usually at least $500) and traveling all around the nation (more costs), all of which adds up to playing way more than 27 games. Coaches are in charge of scheduling games, so yeah, I blame that coach, but don’t worry — I’ve (mostly) let it go.
I’ve also had a coach who didn’t know the game. Now, I’ll admit, I am pretty knowledgeable about softball. I grew up watching and playing sports, and loved them, so it was pretty natural for me to learn the rules and intricacies of the game. But it still frustrates me when I know more than a coach. What’s worse is when a player respectfully approaches and confronts a coach about a certain play or situation, and the coach still goes on acting and teaching wrongly. The teaching part probably annoys me more than anything else. I totally believe you can go on acting ignorantly if you want, but don’t encourage others to do the same. Also, I’ll give all the want-to-be coaches out there a tip: if a player has a skill you’re not knowledgeable about, go out and learn about that skill. Don’t try to change the player — skills are skills for a reason, and knowing more is always good for a person anyway.
Maybe what hurts the most is having bad teammates. Teammates can make or break a team. You grow close to a select group of people and you bond and grow close together. But what happens when jealousy enters the situation? I’ve had girls who were my teammates, who I thought were my close friends betray me because they were jealous of my success. I was winning awards and getting attention from the local media and so these supposed friends went behind my back and started spreading lies about me. It was a rough time in life, but I learned some tough lessons. I learned that teammates, while they can improve or worsen a season, don’t stop your love of the game. You can keep playing anyway. If people hurt you because they’re jealous, then they’re not real teammates anyways.
I’ve listed just a few of the bad things I’ve encountered in the game of softball, but I’ve encountered so much more that makes me love the game. Some of my best friends have come from long summers spent in the sun, sweating together, wanting that championship trophy so bad that absolutely nothing else will stand in the way. Athletes have chosen to dedicate their time to a game — we wake up early, we go to bed late, we don’t go out with friends, we get bumps and bruises and we have overly competitive streaks. It takes dedication. Dedication in itself is enough to make the game worth playing. When you love something enough, you never want to stop, and once you put so much into something, you only want to put more into it. There’s also the pride you get in a job well done, the love you feel for the fruit of your efforts when you get a base hit or help lead your team to victory. It makes things like poor teammates, horrible coaches and hitting slumps all worth it.
As I go on finishing my season, and playing on in slightly less competitive leagues, I’ll never let someone else make the call for me, whether it’s the call of out or safe or the call of whether I will continue to play. The decision is all mine; I love the game, and so through it all I will choose to play. When I hit the ball I will run. I will run hard. I’m not going to make the call close. No, I’m going to be safe by three steps. Nobody’s making this call for me.
