3 up 3 down

I miss softball. Spending the past 3 days watching the Women's College World Series and watching Addie's little league game tonight make spring and summer memories of 6 years of my life come flooding back. 6 sweet seasons.

I remember walking onto the field for my first practice at 8 years old with a ball 2 sizes too big for my league, cleats from the thrift store, an old glove, and a tee ball bat. I remember late nights at practices, missing everything that came to me in left field, working hard to hit perfect pitches from the machine, and drinking lots of purple gatorade and eating little debbie snacks with the team. I remember chanting, "My name is Katy and I know what I got!" as my teammates responded, "What do you got?" -- "I got a team that's hotter than hot!" -- "How hot is hot?" -- "Grandslams and homeruns too-- "Uh huh, uh huh!" --" Now let's see what Katlynn can do!" and so it continued until everyone in the dugout had yelled. I remember wanting to redeem myself for all those pop flies I missed in the outfield, and I remember the night I did. I remember getting older and moving to a bigger field and learning how to battle a good pitcher at the plate. I remember learning how to bunt and slide..sliding practice was the best! I remember practices got better when they got dirtier, whether because of making great stops in the dirt or getting down on a steal scrimmaging- there was nothing like dirt in my hair from the helmet or a slightly brown left hand from a sweaty glove. I remember Sonic runs with Dad after games to get extra long cheese coneys and strawberry limeades as we talked over the game. I remember the hitting slump I stumbled into in sixth grade, and how I broke out of it. I remember the adrenaline rush of rounding the bag and seeing nothing but the third base coach waying me on, yelling, "down, down, down!"- there is no feeling like sliding in and being safe. I remember the season I got moved from center field to second base. I remember being nervous, but learning how to 'turn two'. I also remember the beginning of the next season when coach looked at me and said, "We're starting you at third, you've got an arm." I remember throwing my arm out by about day three of camp one year, and how bad that hurt. I remember making allstars and how excited I was...I bunted a lot on the allstar team. I remember the biggest, most painful strawberry that was easily the size of two half-dollars I got trying to steal second with 2 outs in a tournament. I remember refusing to tell coach before heading out to the field, then the timeout to get me off the field because I was bleeding through my uniform, and the lecture I got for trying to play when I was hurt. I remember how badly I wanted to play. I remember how I felt being up to bat, full count, 2 outs, championship game, being signaled to bunt then swing away, this is it, having a split second to judge the pitch... and wrongly choosing not to swing. I remember the heavy regret I felt as soon as the ball smacked into the catcher's glove- I had sealed the loss. I remember how playing a team sport instills the concept of winning and losing together- it's all part of the game. I remember how I loved that game.

I loved everything about it. Over the seasons errors decreased but were never eliminated; errors kept me humble and striving. I loved how the innings always changed and brought new chances to crack the bat or play good defense no matter what kind of performance had come before or showed in the score. There are things I learned on the ballfield that come back to me in random situations; I sometimes find myself in circumstances much like being in the box with a full count, 2 outs, a runner on third, down by two- circumstances that demand mental collection and execution of skill in seconds. Or more simply, how to think ahead and always be on my toes..down and ready. How many hard times can seem bearable, how many burdens can be lifted by refusing to be overwhelmed by the score to instead levelly ask, "Where's the next play?" But beyond that, I learned how to work. I was never the best. I made lots of mistakes, but I grew..not only in ability as a player, but in heart for the game. It's not about what exactly you do, as it is how much of yourself you give to what you do..the reward is in the effort.

I remember what it was like having to say farewell to my days on the softball field and how torn I was..how I couldn't bare to think about my memories or watch my friends play without me. In fact, this is the first time I've actually thought about it since then..since 8th grade. I remember my reasoning for quitting, and I don't regret one bit deciding to focus on dance during my highschool years, but I sure did love that game. I remember telling my mom, "It's going to be okay..I played for a reason even though it has to be over..this just means that my little girl can be a softball player or a dancer and I will be proud." Of course Mom said I would be proud of my child no matter what...but I remember that thought comforting me at the time, and it still does.

"3 up, 3 down
3 up, 3 down, don't mess around
3 up, 3 down
ALL D, NO E!"