Today
marked the end of an exhausting softball season. It was exhausting because the girls
collectively played four games a week. Dinner was a constant act of eating what
we could when we could and we tag teamed more often than we wanted so that we
often felt like ships passing in the night.
That wasn’t the exhausting part though; the exhaustion for me was the
heavy emotional attachment I had to this season. Both girls play rec ball, but Avery had
played on the same team for three seasons in a row. For some reason, she was not kept on that
team this season - instead they kept a
handful of their best girls and joined together with another team’s handful of
best girls. Avery’s new team became a collection
of softball misfits - girls who had not played much before and never together
with a head coach that had to be recruited out of volunteer assistants. The week practices started they still didn’t even
have a team sponsor. At least one girl
was able to switch off the team after her parents called the league and asked for replacement on a new team and another three or so never
showed up. Avery’s team was lucky to
field 8 players a night and were often severely outmatched.
This team
lost EVERY single game – often in a series of innings that were called only due
to the five run mercy rule. Too often
their team saw three up three down. Avery
got to bat about one time a night as a result.
As someone who thrives on success, it was painful for me to watch.
The freshness
of the players meant Avery got to pitch almost every single game. She threw roughly two strikes total. I am pretty sure she never got someone out
through pitching unless the coach that had to relieve her happened to throw two
strikes in a row.
And the picture above is
what she looked like tonight as this miserable season ended...
As the night came to a close I found myself on the brink of
tears. It made me so sad to see the
David and Goliath moment these children and kind coaches were placed into every
game with no David win to finish it all off and make it worth it. It made me angry that rejection placed my
child in this situation. It made me
angry that a rec league had no system to prevent this situation.
But those
tears were a waste of my energy. Tonight
I realized that this deplorable season made Avery fall in love with the game
again. She was smiling and cheering the
whole game. She was a leader for the
other girls helping shape the positive tone that was so characteristic of these
players and their parents. The fans
cheered more supportively than any I had ever seen before. Never has a group of girls been kinder to
each other, and never have I seen such small successes treated like home run
moments every time. The team was so
proud to gather around to receive medals and pose as a team. Avery yelled, “Mom! Take a picture of us!” At the end of her season last spring she was
the one in tears the whole way home from what was supposed to be a team celebration
because she was so fed up with the negative bench talk.
The whole
thing left me questioning the notion of success. More specifically, it left me questioning
society’s recent total disdain for participation trophies. The stance has always annoyed me as a
mediocre athlete who took home many a soccer and softball trophy just for
playing… I still somehow turned out okay.
Tonight it especially bothered me because it made me realize what a
dichotomous opinionated society we live in.
Our beliefs make us hypocrites. We
say we embrace growth mindset which preaches acceptance of failure - What
better embracing of failure than a child getting up to pitch game after game
and batter after batter only to be defeated each and every time? Why isn’t that worthy of celebration? We say we want children to be more active and
claim technology will be the downfall of society (while also lamenting the lack
of STEM interest in kids) yet we get angry when kids are rewarded just for
showing up for a physical activity night after night. We want kids to be good sports and remember
the love of the game often admonishing parents who take little league too
seriously while only wanting trophies for winners.
It’s a
wonder anyone can grow up in this world not full of self-loathing, confusion
and doubt. For every belief system
there is an equally strong opposing belief system tearing down all our
actions. I guess the only way we can
live with ourselves despite being told our traditions suck is because somewhere
in each of us lives the spirit of the little kid who crawls into bed still
wearing the medal that says, “You showed up, you stuck it out, and I am proud
of you for that.” Isn’t showing up half
of life anyway?
