It was a humid Tuesday morning in February and from what I recall the atmosphere of the field I was on was definitely an uncomfortable one. The air was thick and moist and the sun was occulted by the overcast of the black clouds. The blades of grass were still moist from the morning dew and the dirt turned into miniature mud puddles. I was one of the three girls competing from my high school and the pressure I felt was immense since it was our second track meet and the running coach expected all of us to beat our personal records. The catch was that our school did not have enough funding to hire a coach for the Girls Throwing team and we all learned how to throw from YouTube videos and girls from other schools. When we finally arrived at our pit we scoped out the competition. Consequently, it added more stress on us because one of the girls had bigger biceps than our male sprints coach: it was terrifying! Another one of the teammates from that school was completing her practice throws and she threw 100 feet easy …show more content…
The discuses we had to throw were metal and they kept slipping out of our hands. We were all unprepared because none of us predicted it would rain so of course we did not bring towels to dry off the discs before throwing them. When the judge finally called my name I did not even have time to be nervous I walked quickly yet carefully to the circle and made sure to step in through the back of the circle. (The rules were extremely strict and the judges continuously repeated that we must enter and exit solely through the back of the discus circle). After my first attempt I almost got a foul for dropping the disc but thankfully I was able to grip it and fling it into the field at what felt like 30 miles per hour. I was filled with anticipation while the disc hurdled through the gigantic
It was the beginning of a new softball season, and I couldn't wait to get out there with my team. At our first practice I remember feeling back at home on the field. Just when I thought this was going to be our teams best season, my parents moved me to a private school. Leaving what I was familiar with was not an easy task, and deciding if I would continue my passion of softball with a different team was even more difficult.
We were down by the field, and the smell of the chopped up rubber in the turf flew into the air. Cold air flew all over the stadium.
It then started to get harder and each day was a different workout to help me and my teammates improve. I was at a point where all I could do was attend school, go to practice and go home. Each day I was beyond tired. At a point of time I felt like giving up and going back to my regular life, and regular schedule. As the coach started to notice how I felt, he pulled me to the side and started to question what was going on. I explained, but everything I said was not a good enough reason. My coach told me, “If this is what you really want you won’t give up, no matter how hard it may get you will overcome it.” That day I learned a valuable lesson, to never give up.
For the past eight years of my life I have been playing softball. It all started when I was eight years old and my dad took me to my first softball practice. I was thrilled to be playing a sport. My dad grew up playing baseball and his sisters played softball so he was ecstatic when I was finally old enough to play. I loved softball for the first 4 years of playing when it was all fun and games. In middle school softball became harder and more competitive and I slowly started to lose interest in it. I thought high school softball would be different; I would love my teammates, make varsity, and all along have a great first season of highschool softball… I was wrong.
I have been playing softball since the age of six. From the time I could walk, my dad had me out in our yard teaching me how to swing a bat and throw a ball. Growing up, softball is all I have known. Both of my parents played softball and baseball growing up and in college. They both have taught me everything they know about the sport. Softball has taught me more than the physical aspect of the game. In softball a player can strike out seven out of ten times and still be considered a good hitter. Everyone has rough days, but I have realized that I just need to come back the next day and work harder. My parents have showed me that working hard at it will help me succeed. Whenever I have a bad game, instead of getting down, I take it as motivation to try harder the next time.
What I remember is playing in a softball tournament in 2013 with my travel team. It was championship game day and to me, that day was very important. I was playing outfield and it was a new position for me so I had no idea what I was supposed to do besides catch the ball and throw it in to the middle infielders. I was unaware that the ball would be so slippery from the wet grass, which made it much more difficult to control. As the game continued, it started getting very intense and all we heard was the crowd continuously yelling after every pitch thrown or play made. Soon after the fifth inning began, a shallow fly ball was hit to where I was in left field; I began running for it and all of sudden everything went black. I felt like I had just
My sophomore year of high school I played on the Junior Varsity volleyball team. We began preparing for the season by doing two-a-days the first week of August. We worked out hard the first two weeks then had our first scrimmage that next Friday. We won the scrimmage, but it was a pretty messy game. It was like we were all doing our best individually, but we were not working together as a team. The court was silent during each play and each time somebody messed up the rest of the team got mad at them.
Along the rocky road that is my softball career, my team and I have learned quite a few lessons. Not only did we get to know each other and the game of softball, we were also taught about life. We learned that to get where we wanted to be, we had to push ourselves, constantly practicing and working hard. Our team also had to overcome our many obstacles through perseverance. Another thing we had to learn was how to believe in ourselves and each other. As a player on that team, these things that the game has taught us- working hard, persevering, and believing- have become my laws of life.
Waking up at five in the morning isn't easy, especially when it's summertime. But that was my reality every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. My dad would take me to Ballaban Field and just before practice I would lay down on that field and talk with my teammates for a few minutes. Then practice would start and the next three hours were the most challenging physical times of my life. First we stretched, this was the time to get our mind and body ready for the gauntlet that the coaches would throw down in front of us. Then coach would send offense or defense into the weight room first. If you didn't lift first then you immediately took your shirt off because you didn't want to throw up on your shirt. We'd run and run, surpassing our own expectations of toughness and grit. After running my body ached all over, but I knew we still had an hour of intense lifting ahead. After practice, I would be totally exhausted but satisfied knowing I
Early in my time at Griswold High School, there happened to be a sprinter that competed on the girl's track team. She was an all-around athlete and had the potential to be extremely successful in both the sprinting and jumping events. During her junior year, her performances in both practices and the meets began to decline rapidly. Shayne Stedman, who was the girl’s coach at the time, came to me and voiced his confusion over how to handle this. After determining that there was nothing physically or medically wrong with the girl, we began to seek an alternative solution. Over the next few weeks her performances continued to plummet, and with it, so did her confidence. With about a month to go in the season, she finally informed us that she and
According to Martha Graham, “Dance is the hidden language of the soul.” To me, dancing is more than just a hobby, it is my life. My dance team is also more than just a team, it is my second family. Each girl on my team has her own unique personality, but somehow, we all get along well. We are all such good friends and have had to make it through many difficult situations already, but all it has done was bring us closer together. The girls on my team are all caring, talented, and funny.
All throughout high school I played on the softball team. Proceeding the season before where we went undefeated with a district championship, my senior year we were supposed to be unstoppable. We received a few new players to add on to our army and the entire school was counting on our run to state. I was so excited to have an amazing end to my high school softball career, but unfortunately my dream was cut short when we lost in the first round of districts. I did not know that loss would change me the way it did.
I was standing there, my feet sitting besides the home plate, watching it fly by. Waiting for it to come straight to me. Here it came as I swung for the fences. And I realized that something in me has moved or something just popped up out of nowhere. Something like change.
Softball was my main sport, but I did everything else until it was time to play softball. I fell in love with softball at an early age. I would play every summer or I was asked to play which helped me travel all over the place and meet new friends. Each year I played my love for the sport grew more and more. I played on multiple teams throughout the summer. Playing with one of my teams I gained the advantage to visit Santé Fe, New Mexico two years in a row to play softball. When I reached 8th grade I was excited about playing for the high school softball team until I figured out how it really was. Although I was not happy about having to sit on the bench, but I understood that I had to earn the privilege to play, and that the upperclassman were more seasoned.
I love to run hurdles, but unfortunately last year, little pulls and strains prevented me from running to my full potential. One Thursday, we had a home track meet against Lake Stevens. For the first time I was in pretty good shape for my race, the 100-meter hurdles. I began jumping up and down partially to stay warm, and partially to let out some of my excitement. By this time, I had butterflies in my stomach and the adrenaline was pumping. The starter asked us to 'Take your sweats off and stand behind your blocks.' 'Runners take your marks.' Hands shaking, I crouched into the starting blocks. The gun was up. 'Set!' 'Bang!' I bolted out of the blocks. I was way ahead of the other girls when suddenly, I realized I didn't have enough speed to carry me over the next hurdle. Gathering all of the strength I could, I grabbed at the air in hopes of guaranteeing clearance. I had just brushed over the wood when my foot hit the ground and my ankle gave out. I fell. I heard a gasp from the crowd and the other racers' feet pounding past me. I got back up. I had never gone over a hurdle with my right leg first, but I did after that fall. Sprinting as fast as I could in between hurdles, I found myself basically bunny hopping over the rest of them. My goal was to cross that finish line and to be able to say that I did the very best that I could, even if I didn't look very graceful along the way. Although it might have seemed like a bad day, I was proud. It was the first time I had ever fallen in a race, and not only did I get back up and keep running, I managed to place second.