I've decided after an emotional weekend that travel teams are like romances. Most don't end well. I had the privilege Sunday of seeing one come to a close in a special way.
A very popular head coach has been going through some health and personal issues, and a couple of weeks ago, he announced at a tournament that he would no longer be coaching softball. Neither of his assistants nor any other parents have the time or desire to fill his shoes. So that set up an emotional last stand this past weekend in South Carolina.
The team, mostly 15-year-olds, won several tournaments this year. The final event was a showcase, so there was no trophies to carry home, but the team went out a winner - 6-0.
Before the last game, players were taking about what it would be like to take the field for the last time together. Which one would cry first? The final inning was 3 up, 3 down. One out was a 4-3 grounder, a play between two fielders who grew up in the same little town, best friends. Very fitting, I thought. The final out was a fly ball to right field. The pitcher walks toward the dugout and doesn't make it to the foul line before tears are rolling down her face.
The players pack up their stuff, and the coach gathers them outside the field in a close knot where everyone could hear a whisper. He starts with, 'You girls are special, and I love every one of you.' And then he begins to cry. There wasn't a girl who didn't in the end. Probably not a parent either, but I so busy wiping and hiding mine that I couldn't confirm it.
So many thoughts have crossed my mind since that happened yesterday. One is that most teams don't end well. Many run out of steam, a shell of their former selves. Others implode, or people leave angry or feeling under-appreciated. Somebody doesn't like somebody else. Sometimes there's no emotion at all. Players and families just walk away without any connection to each other, still looking for that right team they've never found.
This team ended at the right time. Players were having different ambitions. Some were at a crossroads. The head coach's decision allowed it to end with the dignity it deserved. Since then, three players have decided to quit travel ball, and not because they aren't good. One batted leadoff, the other third and hit two HR last weekend, and the other was the shortstop. Most of the rest are headed to other showcase teams and want to play in college.
DD joined this team in February. I remember her tryout and seeing the team mom with a bunch of new uniforms and thinking I'd be so proud if DD wore that jersey. The team had a good history. I worried during the tryout that the players weren't talking to her, that they might not like her, the things that parents fret about. Then they invited her to play in a tournament as a further tryout. First at-bat, struck out. Second at-bat, swung and missed twice, and I'm thinking here we go again, but she singles to center. Went 4-for-6 and got an invitation.
For a while, she thought she didn't fit in, that she didn't have a friend on the team, and worried that she'd made a mistake by choosing them. By the end, she had decided it was the funnest team she'd ever been on, that she'd never been around a better group of 10 players where everybody liked each other. On the field, she had a two-HR game vs. our arch-rivals one day in May. She also let a ball get by her in the outfield to the fence at the NSA World Series that triggered a come-from-behind loss. She cried on the drive back to the hotel that day.
But as memorable and as valuable as all of those ups and downs were, the symbol of this season will be that tight circle of tears at the end. To me, it was an epiphany. It seemed the search for meaning in all this insanity that is travel ball was found inside.
I am going to miss rooting for these kids and hanging out with these parents. It was a just pleasure, and I'll really miss it. The good times and the good friends are so much more important than any of the good plays that our daughters will ever make. That's what these girls will remember, and that's what they will be remembered for.
A very popular head coach has been going through some health and personal issues, and a couple of weeks ago, he announced at a tournament that he would no longer be coaching softball. Neither of his assistants nor any other parents have the time or desire to fill his shoes. So that set up an emotional last stand this past weekend in South Carolina.
The team, mostly 15-year-olds, won several tournaments this year. The final event was a showcase, so there was no trophies to carry home, but the team went out a winner - 6-0.
Before the last game, players were taking about what it would be like to take the field for the last time together. Which one would cry first? The final inning was 3 up, 3 down. One out was a 4-3 grounder, a play between two fielders who grew up in the same little town, best friends. Very fitting, I thought. The final out was a fly ball to right field. The pitcher walks toward the dugout and doesn't make it to the foul line before tears are rolling down her face.
The players pack up their stuff, and the coach gathers them outside the field in a close knot where everyone could hear a whisper. He starts with, 'You girls are special, and I love every one of you.' And then he begins to cry. There wasn't a girl who didn't in the end. Probably not a parent either, but I so busy wiping and hiding mine that I couldn't confirm it.
So many thoughts have crossed my mind since that happened yesterday. One is that most teams don't end well. Many run out of steam, a shell of their former selves. Others implode, or people leave angry or feeling under-appreciated. Somebody doesn't like somebody else. Sometimes there's no emotion at all. Players and families just walk away without any connection to each other, still looking for that right team they've never found.
This team ended at the right time. Players were having different ambitions. Some were at a crossroads. The head coach's decision allowed it to end with the dignity it deserved. Since then, three players have decided to quit travel ball, and not because they aren't good. One batted leadoff, the other third and hit two HR last weekend, and the other was the shortstop. Most of the rest are headed to other showcase teams and want to play in college.
DD joined this team in February. I remember her tryout and seeing the team mom with a bunch of new uniforms and thinking I'd be so proud if DD wore that jersey. The team had a good history. I worried during the tryout that the players weren't talking to her, that they might not like her, the things that parents fret about. Then they invited her to play in a tournament as a further tryout. First at-bat, struck out. Second at-bat, swung and missed twice, and I'm thinking here we go again, but she singles to center. Went 4-for-6 and got an invitation.
For a while, she thought she didn't fit in, that she didn't have a friend on the team, and worried that she'd made a mistake by choosing them. By the end, she had decided it was the funnest team she'd ever been on, that she'd never been around a better group of 10 players where everybody liked each other. On the field, she had a two-HR game vs. our arch-rivals one day in May. She also let a ball get by her in the outfield to the fence at the NSA World Series that triggered a come-from-behind loss. She cried on the drive back to the hotel that day.
But as memorable and as valuable as all of those ups and downs were, the symbol of this season will be that tight circle of tears at the end. To me, it was an epiphany. It seemed the search for meaning in all this insanity that is travel ball was found inside.
I am going to miss rooting for these kids and hanging out with these parents. It was a just pleasure, and I'll really miss it. The good times and the good friends are so much more important than any of the good plays that our daughters will ever make. That's what these girls will remember, and that's what they will be remembered for.
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