Highlighter yellow with firetruck red stitches looping diagonally on both sides. It measures to 12 inches in circumference and as opposed to its name, it’s not very soft at all. I’ve had many bruises that have proved so. I only have one softball left from when I played. It’s dirty; the yellow has faded from the wear and tear over the years. There are smidges of brown from the field and one of the stitches has come loose. Softball used to be my life for thirteen years until I made the decision to stop playing. Most of my gear has been given away since I no longer have use for it. And yet somehow this softball has stood the test of time and sits in my closet, untouched. It was my favorite one; the one I used to practice with whenever I played
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I switched between catcher and third base in town ball. The girls that had been on the team last year mostly took up the infield, so I was stuck out in left field whenever I was played. It taught me how to show support for my teammates, even when I’m not getting much ball action. I had to back up third base, that was one of my major responsibilities and I made sure to sprint there whenever a ball headed its way. Since I was still in middle school, Chi-Town was pretty much a year round endeavor. We practiced three times a week, with tournaments on the weekends, and on top of that, I still had batting lessons. Softball was my life. This team was the last time I ever enjoyed the sport. I bonded with the girls, becoming good friends with them. We would communicate and see each other outside of practice and tournaments. I felt a part of the team. I was a part of a new family. It taught me how to get to know people and how to forge relationships with them. I was placed on second base in the summer tournaments, where I, not too sound cocky, rocked. I would dive for balls if they weren’t in my reach, making any effort I could to stop them. I would come home covered in filth and I loved every second of it. My hitting was on par and I was having fun. Unfortunately, that was the last time I ever enjoyed the
I switched between catcher and third base in town ball. The girls that had been on the team last year mostly took up the infield, so I was stuck out in left field whenever I was played. It taught me how to show support for my teammates, even when I’m not getting much ball action. I had to back up third base, that was one of my major responsibilities and I made sure to sprint there whenever a ball headed its way. Since I was still in middle school, Chi-Town was pretty much a year round endeavor. We practiced three times a week, with tournaments on the weekends, and on top of that, I still had batting lessons. Softball was my life. This team was the last time I ever enjoyed the sport. I bonded with the girls, becoming good friends with them. We would communicate and see each other outside of practice and tournaments. I felt a part of the team. I was a part of a new family. It taught me how to get to know people and how to forge relationships with them. I was placed on second base in the summer tournaments, where I, not too sound cocky, rocked. I would dive for balls if they weren’t in my reach, making any effort I could to stop them. I would come home covered in filth and I loved every second of it. My hitting was on par and I was having fun. Unfortunately, that was the last time I ever enjoyed the