Growing up, sports were inseparable from life in my family. For as long as I can remember, my parents always found ways to weave athletics into conversations over dinner or chats in the car. With time, my sister and I began to love sports as much as they did – so much so that we had our own collections of bats, rackets, clubs and balls ready to be taken out and played with at any given moment. Like any two siblings, my sister and I were rivals in every game we played. Because of the passion for competition we displayed, registering for organized sports seemed like the next logical step for us to take.
As the older sibling, I was the first to try different sports in a structured environment. At five and six years old, my parents had signed me up for multiple local teams for golf, tennis, softball, gymnastics, soccer and volleyball. Over the course of the next few years, I dropped each sport one by one until two remained: softball and volleyball. Not only were they the sports my parents played, but they also were team sports that required effort and input from every athlete. Because I was quiet as a kid, team sports felt like a challenge, forcing me to communicate with others. Though uncomfortable, there was something thrilling about pushing myself to get out of my comfort zone while making new friends along the way.
The moment I truly recognized softball as my favorite sport had to be on the first day of third grade. My teacher had given us “Get to Know You” sheets, and I remember struggling to decide what I was going to put in that little box that asked for my favorite sport. Eventually, I wrote down softball. Though I loved volleyball, I felt that softball was the sport for me. There was something about the people, the precision and the weird-shaped field that made me fall in love with it. Even as an elementary school kid, I loved the sense of accomplishment I felt after competing, regardless of the outcome.
The summer between third and fourth grade was one of my fondest softball seasons as of yet. During that period, I was on a recreational softball tournament team, driving around California for practices and games. Because we worked so hard in practice during the week, we all itched to win each upcoming tournament. The most memorable moment of the summer had to be when we ended our season in a loss in the semifinals of our annual San Diego tournament. Like any shortcoming in sports, it stung to think that all the time and effort we put into each other and our craft resulted in defeat. Even though we were only nine years old and playing recreationally, almost all of us cried and hugged one another as if we had just lost a world title. Though there were many more moments like this throughout my career, this moment helped me begin to acknowledge what it meant to be a part of something bigger than myself – a lesson I’m grateful for receiving early on.
Wanting to push myself to compete at the next level, I started playing club softball in seventh grade. This was a change for my family and me as we began to travel beyond California to play against teams across the country. The shift from recreational to club was also significant because of the new, more intense environment. Expectations rose, practices became harder and high-fives were not handed out for free any longer. As my surroundings changed, so did my outlook on sports. Though I still wanted to have fun, I also realized I had to spend extra hours on the field in order to find success. Merely being able to make contact in a game and run down the line was not enough. In club softball, the new expectation was to hit home runs – something I had not done before in my life. Now motivated to hit one for the first time, I developed an obsession with the batting cages and weightlifting. When my swing felt off, I would beg my dad to drive me to the local cages to get extra reps before my next game. Also, after learning the importance of strength and injury prevention in softball, I would ask for help to write lifting programs. Though tedious at times, the hours spent in the gym and on the field strengthened my relationships with my teammates and deepened my desire to improve.
Transferring from public to private school sophomore year marked another turning point as the busier schedule demanded a new level of discipline. Most weekends, after an early morning Anaheim practice filled with foul poles, bases, suicide sprints, loads of defensive work and rep after rep of the same swing, I knew there would be schoolwork to do as well. Despite the grind, I am so lucky to be a part of a community that values embracing challenges I otherwise might have avoided. I feel grateful to be surrounded by ambitious, goal-oriented and caring people who push me to learn something new every day.
While traveling to places such as Indiana, Oklahoma, Florida, Colorado, Georgia and Mexico, softball already has given me the opportunity to meet lifelong friends. I am so excited and thankful to continue my softball journey at Stanford University next year, hopefully making even more new memories and meeting amazing people along the way. Though there will inevitably be highs and lows, I am eager to be in an environment that I believe will inspire me to become the best version of myself.
Nowadays, boredom feels like a luxury. Between hours spent on the road for practice and waking up early for school, time has become sacred. However, my decision to play softball has been an absolute blessing and I would not change it for the world. Going into the end of senior year and the beginning of a new chapter in college, I am excited for what new experiences and people await.
