- Feb 3, 2011
- 1,880
- 48
Mojo picked her new team yesterday and with that, a major chapter of her life - and ours - came to an end. She is stepping out of the safety and comfort of rec ball. Spring rec was almost always fun for the family, and competitive rec in the summer and fall was even more fun, but those days are over now.
Some of you who have seen some of my previous posts know I love rec ball and still, I love what rec leagues are supposed to be and remain committed to getting our league there. Unfortunately, though, we're not there. It's over now - Mojo is gone and nothing I do or say is bringing her back - but I can't help but feel a little like a quitter. The system defeated me, which I can admit, but does admitting defeat mean that I'm smarter or better off now than before? That didn't come out right, I'm sure. I invested heavily in our league over the past couple of years and during 2012, spent countless hours attempting to preserve what I believed we'd built when I saw the writing on the wall.
It was only partly out of selfishness, but really out of the strong sense of community I believe in, yet which so few others do.
In the end, the system won. The modern daddy wants his little rec ball player on a travel team with the fancier uniforms and if she isn't good enough to make a competitive tournament team, then he'll team up with a couple of buddies and start 1 for her and then seek out rec tournaments.
I can be very selfish in my thinking. I'm not bitter about the new reality where kids could care less about representing their towns in national all-star competition because their parents taught them not to. I'm upset that I was wrong. I'm a little upset that I wasn't able to change people's minds, but I'm more upset that I misread them in the first place. Crazy, I know, but I really thought a common sense approach to player progression was the right one to take. What I didn't account for was the fact there really is no reason for softball to be any different from the rest of the local culture. People want the shiny new thing and they want it NOW.
I was really looking forward to my kiddo coming back for 1 last year of rec play. She and her friends would be all-stars again and they'd be able to look forward to the experience of going to rec Nationals. And as a parent, I would get to share that with them, maybe even get to help coach them again. Oh yes, I was excited. The team had unexpectedly qualified this summer, but didn't have enough players available to make the trip, so they were unable to go. Mojo felt she'd missed out, but got over it, yet still wanted a chance at it. I felt she and her team had missed out, too. I wanted to see them there next summer.
But 1 by 1, they all left for greener pastures - 8 prospective starters, gone. The parents were courted by smooth-talking salesmen who talked of a better world, filled with good softball, and far away from the horrors of rec ball. Of course, I was painting the same picture, only in reverse. My sales pitch wasn't as strong, though, obviously. After all, they'd already been subjected to much of what I was selling. After this great year, the thought of going back to rec was just too much for them to bear. The kids never had a choice. They didn't care really. They just wanted to play softball. I argued with 2 coaches and 1 parent. Then I argued with 1 coach some more. And some more. I left all the kids alone, of course. They would go wherever mom & dad wanted. And all the parents were clear with what they wanted.
I finally wished them well and then set about dealing with what should have been my sole focus all along: my DD. To be clear, it always was, but in order to improve her softball experience, I needed to do the things necessary to improve our entire league for everyone's benefit. I don't regret any of that.
I'll miss the afternoon snowcones with friends at the field and seeing her in the 4th of July parade, but I can stop the whining now. I'm not sad, really. Having been playing for over half her life, she's already allowed me to share in the joy of a lifetime. I have so many reasons to thank my daughter.
A new chapter has begun and my little girl couldn't be happier. And neither could I. Thank you, Mojo - I love you.
Some of you who have seen some of my previous posts know I love rec ball and still, I love what rec leagues are supposed to be and remain committed to getting our league there. Unfortunately, though, we're not there. It's over now - Mojo is gone and nothing I do or say is bringing her back - but I can't help but feel a little like a quitter. The system defeated me, which I can admit, but does admitting defeat mean that I'm smarter or better off now than before? That didn't come out right, I'm sure. I invested heavily in our league over the past couple of years and during 2012, spent countless hours attempting to preserve what I believed we'd built when I saw the writing on the wall.
It was only partly out of selfishness, but really out of the strong sense of community I believe in, yet which so few others do.
In the end, the system won. The modern daddy wants his little rec ball player on a travel team with the fancier uniforms and if she isn't good enough to make a competitive tournament team, then he'll team up with a couple of buddies and start 1 for her and then seek out rec tournaments.
I can be very selfish in my thinking. I'm not bitter about the new reality where kids could care less about representing their towns in national all-star competition because their parents taught them not to. I'm upset that I was wrong. I'm a little upset that I wasn't able to change people's minds, but I'm more upset that I misread them in the first place. Crazy, I know, but I really thought a common sense approach to player progression was the right one to take. What I didn't account for was the fact there really is no reason for softball to be any different from the rest of the local culture. People want the shiny new thing and they want it NOW.
I was really looking forward to my kiddo coming back for 1 last year of rec play. She and her friends would be all-stars again and they'd be able to look forward to the experience of going to rec Nationals. And as a parent, I would get to share that with them, maybe even get to help coach them again. Oh yes, I was excited. The team had unexpectedly qualified this summer, but didn't have enough players available to make the trip, so they were unable to go. Mojo felt she'd missed out, but got over it, yet still wanted a chance at it. I felt she and her team had missed out, too. I wanted to see them there next summer.
But 1 by 1, they all left for greener pastures - 8 prospective starters, gone. The parents were courted by smooth-talking salesmen who talked of a better world, filled with good softball, and far away from the horrors of rec ball. Of course, I was painting the same picture, only in reverse. My sales pitch wasn't as strong, though, obviously. After all, they'd already been subjected to much of what I was selling. After this great year, the thought of going back to rec was just too much for them to bear. The kids never had a choice. They didn't care really. They just wanted to play softball. I argued with 2 coaches and 1 parent. Then I argued with 1 coach some more. And some more. I left all the kids alone, of course. They would go wherever mom & dad wanted. And all the parents were clear with what they wanted.
I finally wished them well and then set about dealing with what should have been my sole focus all along: my DD. To be clear, it always was, but in order to improve her softball experience, I needed to do the things necessary to improve our entire league for everyone's benefit. I don't regret any of that.
I'll miss the afternoon snowcones with friends at the field and seeing her in the 4th of July parade, but I can stop the whining now. I'm not sad, really. Having been playing for over half her life, she's already allowed me to share in the joy of a lifetime. I have so many reasons to thank my daughter.
A new chapter has begun and my little girl couldn't be happier. And neither could I. Thank you, Mojo - I love you.