I am Not a Quitter.

I played softball from the time I was 4 to the time I was 14. That is 10 years of softball, almost a third of my life. It was a sport that I was actually good at because it did not include a lot of running- Hallelujah! As it turns out, if you hit the ball hard enough, you can take your time getting to first base.  Softball was the only hobby I had managed to hold onto for more than a year.

I was a quitter. By the time I was 14, I had quit more hobbies than most kids had the privilege to begin. I quit gymnastics (I would much rather just twirl my ponytail in the mirror). I quit Jazz Dancing (I started in the middle of winter and it was too cold to leave my house). I quit summer theater (I was too old for it).  I quit singing lessons, town choir, and church choir (all the other kids took it way too seriously). I had even been kicked off of my 2^nd grade soccer team (umm running. No thank you). And I knew I was probably about to quit band too (I did a year later). 

The summer before my freshman year of high school, I decided to quit softball. I had recently taken up an interest in tennis, a sport I had never played before, and unfortunately Branson’s girls’ tennis and softball season were at the same time. So I had to choose one, and I wanted to choose tennis. Again, I found myself a quitter. I wanted to quit the ONLY hobby I had ever stuck with and I was terrified of telling my parents.

 My parents had invested thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours of supporting softball. They paid for me to be on local teams and traveling teams and they paid for me to have the best bats, gloves, and uniforms. They footed the fee for all of my tournaments and paid for a trip to Andy’s frozen custard after every Springfield game.

My dad coached my team every single year I played, and it definitely WASN'T because he loved being surrounded by small screaming children. He would take me to the empty softball field during the off season and hit me ground balls and pop flies. He even tried to teach how to properly run once (he didn’t like that I had gotten in the habit of galloping around the bases. But hey! At least it was faster than running!).  And my mother, well, she never missed any games. She always managed to scrub the dirt and grass stains out of my pants, organize the snack schedule for the team, and she dutifully nursed my black eyes back to health every time I got hit in the face during a game.

 My parents had invested 10 years of time and money into softball and I had to tell them that I was going to quit, again. I wasn't terrified to tell them because I was terrified of them; I was terrified of disappointing them. They cared so much, and I was nothing but a quitter, a disappointment, a waste of time.

But I did it. I told them. I honestly don’t remember telling them, but I do remember what happened next.

That summer, my mother signed us up for tennis lessons. She said that we would learn how to play together, and we did. And my father, he signed us up for a co-ed doubles league. Did he know how to play? Nope. Did we even own a decent tennis racquet at the time? Nope. Were we the only ones in that league under 70? Yep. Did the elderly couples ask if we were married Every. Single. Time? Yep. But he did it anyway, and we got better, together.

By the end of the summer, I knew what a backhand was. I knew what “Australian doubles” was, and I actually knew how to keep score (Seriously. Who came up with tennis’s confusing scoring system? The Brits? Yea, definitely the Brits).  And not only did I make the tennis team, I made Varsity.

I stuck with tennis all throughout my high school career. I had a blast, met some of my best friends, and discovered a life-long love. 

 I am now on year 11 of being a tennis player (today I beat my husband 6-4 in a match J ). I finally made it past my 10-year record. 

I am officially not a quitter.

So thank you mom and dad, it took me 11 years and a new perspective to realize that you weren’t investing in softball, you were investing in me.













*Shout out to my sister, Kassadee for being forced to attend 14 years of softball/tennis games.