Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Lessons Learned

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My knees trembled and my perspiring hands did their best to grip the bat. I was already down two strikes and I watched with sore eyes as the third one sat me back on the bench. Striking out became my regular batting status, and the dirt path back to the dugout was all too familiar. Crushed hopes and inevitable fears defined my entire Kiski Valley Pirate softball career.

Being only ten on the twelve and under team, I wasn’t a regular starter. I was substituted in every once in a great while. When I did get the chance to prove myself, I would fail miserably. Whether it was making an error at second base or striking out I was a letdown to myself and to my team. I never missed a practice or a game in the four years that I continued to play. I was dedicated but I was too childish to face the challenges that seemed impossible to overcome. I quit the Pirates and asked myself one question. What did those four years teach me? Those four years taught me to hate everything. I despised my opponents, I feared my coaches, and worst of all I humiliated my dad.

The Kiski Valley Pirates had a well known reputation. Being very loud and obnoxious made every team despise us. Many of the games became personal leaving us players mocking and ridiculing our opponents. The umpires even became irate with our appalling fans and loud-mouthed coaches. Although our team was extremely talented we lacked respect and good sportsmanship. Our team didn’t play for love of the game. The win that was taken home was all that mattered. Losses rarely happened, but when they did the coaches had an earful to say.

Skill is critiqued by what is taught and learned by example. I will admit that our coaches were the best instructors’ skill wise in the vicinity. How to play the game of softball was learned in detail, but respect for the other team was almost frowned upon. This form of discrimination towards others makes it difficult to even respect yourself. Softball is supposed to be an enjoyment for recreational purposes. With coaches and players breathing down your back it was an uncomfortable and plain unpleasant experience. I would have never learned how to truly play this sport with my heart if I had coaches like that the remainder of my softball career.




My dad was the one who taught me everything. He molded me into a softball machine. He was my coach, my friend, and my consolidator. Always there for me, being at every game, and watching every tear that streamed down my depressed face. He taught me how to be respectful and accept my failures as an adult not an annoying child. He knew what I was capable of, but it wasn’t enough for him to believe in me. I had to believe in myself.

I wouldn’t find out who I really was until I played JV softball for Mr. White the following year. I do not think we were victorious in one game that season, but this much I have learned. That it is not about who hackled the other team more or brought more controversy to the field. I learned that it is not about who put forth the clutch hit or who scored the winning run. The real point is, it does not matter who wins and who loses. It is about doing what you love and loving every minute of it. Never forget why you came to practice or why you even choose to play this sport. You do it because, regardless of the score you have already won. Although the Kiski Valley Pirates might have left me with distasteful memories they helped me to learn a very valuable lesson. Softball is a different game for me now, one of satisfaction and content.



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