As I'm sure others can relate, I strive to be great in everything I do. I suffer from a chronic case of overly high expectations for myself, and unfortunately I haven't been living up to them in my mind recently. These feelings of inadequacy that are creeping up make it easy for me to feel victimized by my own mind; in fact, the more I think about life, the more instances surface where I clearly fell short of my goals. I try not to be one to complain, but there are small parts of me that just feel defeated by the mental trap I've locked myself into.
Fortunately, I've been in this situation before, and I know the right reaction is to rise above. Here is the history of what I consider one of my greatest accomplishments:
My love for softball began at the age of six when I played my first year of little League baseball with my brother and other local boys. Eventually I transitioned to slow pitch softball in middle school (with girls, thank goodness), but the pace of the game felt too relaxed for me; it was fun, but I wanted to challenge myself to do something tougher. As you can see, my high expectations for myself started at a very young age.
I started playing fastpitch softball during my first year of high school, but even with my baseball background and passion for the game, I was not a stand out on the Champlin Park team by any means. Sure, I ended up being a three-time Varsity letter-winner, but my coach didn't have the confidence in me to make me a starter, especially not when there was a group of girls one year younger who had played together since they were five and were better than I could ever hope to be. It got more and more aggravating to sit on the bench while my mom would come every game to watch me "play", which would sometimes consist of a pinch-running gig if I was lucky. Eventually I got to play for the last half of my senior year after a teammate suffered a season-ending injury. Even though it hurt to be the second choice (which was understandable because I still wasn't great), I made the most of that season by working hard, having fun, and even making a few awesome plays.
In all honesty though, it is still embarrassing for me to say that I received three Varsity letters in a sport from one of the largest high schools in the state when my career high school batting average was .051. There were definitely times when I wondered what I was doing spending day after day practicing in the gym, seeing no results, and knowing that what I did wouldn't really make a difference. Feeling like I wasn't living up to my expectations, I began to contemplate putting an end to playing the game I loved.
When I got to St. Olaf, I really wasn't planning on playing softball. A spot on a Division III athletics team seemed like the wrong place for someone who performed so poorly in high school. Nevertheless, my love for the game and the new environment drove me to at least give it a try, and after walking on to the first fall practice of the season, I felt hopeful about having a place on the team. Luckily, the team was in a rebuilding year: the roster was very small, and as I was one of only three outfielders to fill three spots, the odds were in my favor. I started every game except one during my first year, and even though I still knew that I wasn't the best one on the team, I also knew that I had nothing to lose. I worked extremely hard, sought feedback from my coach and teammates, and had fun with girls who had as much passion for the game as I did. My batting average still left much to be desired at .159, but I celebrated that it was better than I had done in high school, it wasn't the worst on the team, and (by some miracle) it included the only home run I've ever hit in my career. I believed in myself again, and I was proud of the improvements I had made.
My sophomore and junior year began with a bit of déjà vu from high school. I was beat out of my outfield spot by a group of gals one year younger than me who, admittedly, were better all-around players than I was, and my feelings of inadequacy returned. Sophomore year, I started in only six of forty games (mostly the ones that didn't matter, like preseason and non-conference match ups) and junior year wasn't much better, starting in twelve games and appearing in only twenty . During those cold spring seasons, my roles were mostly limited to bench warmer (literally, the average temperature those Aprils was around forty degrees), cheerleader, pinch runner, and pinch hitter. It would have been very easy to quit at that point as some other girls from the team had done, and I'll admit that the thought crossed my mind. Why should I spend three hours a day at practices for a team that I sit on the bench for, my friends asked, when there were other things that seemed to be a better use of my time. Logically, my friends' advice made sense, but I decided that I was not going to stop working hard only to let myself down; I still had high expectations for myself, and I knew that I would have my shot to make a difference for the team and my hard work would pay off.
I distinctly remember two pinch hit at bats during sophomore and junior year that allowed me to regain the respect of my teammates and my coach as a competitor on the team. On April 15, 2010, I was called upon to pinch hit in the bottom of the sixth inning with two outs against MIAC rival Macalaster. Going into the inning, the Oles were down 5-2, but had cut the lead down to one by the time I came up to the plate. Macalaster had just switched pitchers in an effort to throw off the Oles' rally, and I would be the first one to face her. With runners on first and second and after fouling off nearly every pitch of the at bat , I popped a long fly ball into the far left field corner, allowing both runners to score for a one run lead and leaving me with a stand-up double, grinning from ear to ear on second base. Unfortunately in the top of the seventh, Macalester, down to their last out, hit a three run homerun that sealed the game for them. Nevertheless, seeing my name on the athletics page recap as the almost-hero left me feeling as good as if we had pulled it out in the end.
The second of my pinch-hit "heroics" came on a rainy 38 degree day on April 21, 2011. The Oles had travelled to Augsburg College, and my brother, Eric, came to watch me play for the first time in my fastpitch career. Although I didn't start either game of the double header and spent most of my time trying to stay warm under my four layers of clothes, I was determined to give my brother a reason to watch me play. I finally got my chance in the top of the ninth inning of the second game, both teams scoreless as they had been all game. Cold, wet, hungry, and tired, the scoreless game had gone into extra innings, and the Oles were desperate to put an end to it while finishing the game on top. With one out and the bases loaded, my coach called me to pinch hit, and I knew it was my chance to seal our fate. I was patient, having watched the two batters before me get free passes to first base, but when I saw the beautiful pitch cross the middle of the plate, I swung hard and launched a line drive to left center field for a bases clearing double. Unlike the end of the Macalester game a year earlier, we held on to win, and I truly left feeling like the hero of the game. To sweeten the moment, Eric had captured the heroics on camera.
Those two moments were critical in giving me the confidence to keep trying and keep working hard during those two years in the middle of my college career. My hard work despite the heartache and embarrassment of not playing much set me up for a captainship of the Oles as a senior, where I was a solid contributor to the team. During my senior year, I led by example, ending with the third highest batting average on the team at .293 and the only consistent starter with a 1.000 fielding percentage through 32 games. It was the greatest feeling knowing that after so many years, my hard work led me to that point of being able to be an example for my teammates rather than the one who brought the team down. I was no longer the girl who only got to play when the coach had no better option as a second choice; instead, I was a difference maker for the team, and I was having fun while doing it. I was exceeding the expectations I had set for myself, which made me feel best of all.
I reflect now on how I have been feeling as of late, and all I can think of is how the little girl with a love for softball inside of me rose above and conquered all that she set out to do. She was a warrior, and now I have to be one, too. Just like my journey through my softball career, success won't necessarily come quickly to me, but through hard work, determination, and passion, I have no doubt that I will conquer this slump in order to create another great accomplishment that I will be proud of for years to come.
