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Take One Last, Sweet Look Around
The weather has gone from wet and chilly to pleasant and sunny (or brutally hot, depending on where you live). Senior night festivities have come and gone.
Conference tournaments have started and in many cases finished. State tournaments are looming.
Yes, it’s that bittersweet time of the year, because it doesn’t just mean the end of the high school softball season. It means the end of high school softball for some players period, and for all too many the end of their softball careers.
You remember how it all started, maybe with a flyer from the school announcing rec league tee ball or coach pitch softball. Your daughter brought it home and said, “Can I?” and you said, “Sure, why not?” After all, it’s just a few weeks April through June, and not much of a time commitment even then.
Hah! Little did you know.
Then came the first travel team, with tournaments on a few weekends turning into tournaments practically every weekend. Trips within a 25-mile radius that were drive in and drive out turned into trips out of state, maybe even across the country, with hotel stays and the other accompanying expenses.
Soon it was consuming much of your time and disposable resources, but you didn’t mind. It was fun to watch your daughter do what she loves.
Yes, there were some bumps along the way. Maybe it was a batting slump. Or a stretch where it seemed like she made more errors than plays, or couldn’t find a radioactive plate with a Geiger counter if she was pitching.
It may have even been a coach who thought yelling and screaming = motivation. Or a group of girls with which your daughter just wasn’t a good fit.
But all of that was minor compared to all the great times you spent watching your daughter play the sport she loves – and all the car rides to and from the field where you not only talked about softball (hopefully in a positive, “wasn’t that fun?” way) but also got to know her better as a person because the two of you were trapped together for hours on end. She shared her hopes, dreams, frustrations, feelings and more in a way she probably wouldn’t have at home.
Now, however, those days are pretty much behind you. You will watch your daughter put on her uniform, lace up her cleats, grab her bat bag, and head out to the field like she has so many times before.
But instead of thinking ahead to where you have to be next weekend, this will be it – your last chance to watch her play in a competitive situation, where every pitch feels like life and death and every triumph is magnified 10-fold.
Sure, as you tried to balance the responsibilities of life with the pleasure of watching your daughter play it all seemed like it was just one mad rush from one event to the next. But soon there will be no need to rush, because you have nowhere special to be today. Next Saturday morning you can sleep in.
Then all that gear will be gathering dust in a closet the way your vehicle used to gather diamond dirt in every crevice. Maybe she’ll grab her glove and bat and play now and then with her friends in a slow pitch league.
But it won’t be the same.
So before it’s all over, remember to take in the aroma of that fresh-cut grass and the sensation of the warm sun on your skin as you wait for the game to begin. Appreciate the feeling of dust blowing onto arms and a face lightly coated with sweat, coating you with grime that never quite seems to wash off, and the sound of cleats crunching on the infield dirt or clattering on the concrete dugout floor.
Not to mention the challenge of washing deep ground dirt out of bright white pants because some idiot coach thought white pants look good. (Guilty!)
Savor every last bit of it. Because when it’s over it’s over.
And when the last out as been recorded, take a moment before you pack up the camp chairs and the snacks and the blankets and everything else you’ve carried from field to field these many years. Burn it into your mind.
Years from now you’ll remember these as some of the best years of your life. Because they were.
Good luck to all the graduates – and their families!
Top photo credit; Michelle Josko
A Tribute to the Parents Who Show Up Just in Case their Daughter Plays
You see them at every high school (and sometimes college) ballfield. In cold weather climes they are bundled up in parkas, blankets, quilts, wool hats, mittens, and whatever else they can find to keep them warm, sitting in their camp chairs either alone or maybe in pairs, steeling themselves against March and early April winds that cut through all their layers like a knife.
In warmer climes they might have rain ponchos or even makeshift shelters to protect them against the showers that can crop up out of nowhere and drench them in a matter of minutes if they’re not prepared.
They do all of this without the assurance of a reward for their efforts. Because these aren’t the parents of the starters or regular players.
No, they’re the parents who show up game after game, putting up with the elements and the difficult conditions, hoping against hope they will get a chance to see their daughters get into the game for an inning or two.
I remember watching them when my daughters were playing high school softball. When I was at a game, no matter how cold or wet it was, I knew I would get the opportunity to see my daughters play the game they loved.
I could count on seeing them pitch, hit, play the field in just about every inning.
But then I would look at these parents and admire their fortitude. They had no such assurances their daughters would get into the game.
They could go days or weeks at a time and never see their daughters so much as pinch run. Their only real hope of seeing their daughters on the field was for their to be a blowout, i.e., their daughter’s team getting either so far ahead or so far behind that the coach would take the starters out and give an inning or two to the bench players.
But you know what? They showed up anyway, game after game, braving the cold, the wind, the occasional rain or even sleet, cheering for the team and just being there supporting their own daughters.
That, my friends, is love.
While honestly I was glad I wasn’t one of them, and even felt a little bad for them in a way, I also couldn’t help but be impressed by their dedication and their quality of character. It would have been easy for them to figure there’s not much point in going, especially when the team was playing against a close conference rival where one run might be the difference between winning and losing.
They could have easily thought, “She’s never going to get in so I might as well use the time more productively.” But they didn’t.
Instead, they showed up before the game started and hung around until the end, supporting their daughters in their sport of choice.
So here’s to all of you who make that choice and sit through all the weather and other challenges just on the off-chance your daughter gets an opportunity to play, even if just for an inning. You are good people, and your dedication hasn’t gone unnoticed.
Dress warm (if needed), keep dry, and I hope your patience is rewarded sooner rather than later.
My good friend Jay Bolden and I have started a new podcast called “From the Coach’s Mouth” where we interview coaches from all areas and levels of fastpitch softball as well as others who may not be fastpitch people but have lots of interesting ideas to contribute.
You can find it here on Spotify, as well as on Apple Podcasts, Pandora, Stitcher, iHeart Radio, or wherever you get your podcasts. If you’re searching, be sure to put the name in quotes, i.e., “From the Coach’s Mouth” so it goes directly to it.
Give it a listen and let us know what you think. And be sure to hit the Like button and subscribe to Life in the Fastpitch Lane for more content like this.
Top photo by Yakup Polat on Pexels.com
Life in the Fastpitch Lane 