"Play ball," the umpire announced to the crowd, starting off a game that changed my outlook and sports and success. I didn’t know it at the time, but that fateful coin flip that announced which team gets home advantage and set the pace for the whole game.

I was ten and new to competitive sports, but none the less, the team I played on was good. Twenty six and zero was our record, and any game could make or break that. We had been walking on water for the last few tournaments and every game mattered.

I was a little girl, the second smallest on the team, but that didn’t keep me from being competitive. I batted three in the lineup which in softball corresponds with the powerhouse. I am responsible for batting people in, and so far that season, I had done a good job.

There was something different about that game from the start. We were facing the fastest pitcher we had seen all season who pitched in the low fifties from thirty five feet. That is faster than a professional baseball pitch at a hundred miles an hour from sixty feet. Most of the time the pitch flew past before you could even blink.

Innings dragged past with three up three down with very few making it to first base. The game came down to a battle of pitchers, but hitting was crucial. I got up to bat twice, but grounded out to short, then hit a fly ball to right. With very little coming to me in the field, I felt useless but antsy for my team.

As the game got closer and closer to the clock running out, the crowd got louder and the girls playing put more energy into it. We needed to win this.

"And the clock has run out," the home plate umpire called out, as another inning ended. We would play extra innings. In softball, when clock runs out and teams are tied, we have to play an international tie breaker. An international tie breaker is when the battling team starts the inning with a player on second base and is trying to score them. It is used to make the game go quicker and force the teams to score runs.
As we rushed into the dugout, the first thing we did was call out the order for that inning.

"… and Emmalie is up third," by a stroke of luck, I would bat up that inning. Nerves settled into the pit of my stomach and mind raced with worse case scenarios.

I swallowed hard, grabbed my bat, and stood outside the dugout taking practice swings and breathing deep. I needed to relax.

My dad, who was coaching at the time came out, and told me, "Focus, we need you. Keep your eye on the ball and stay short with your swing." I nodded jerkily. His advice was taken into account, but my stomach was too upside down for it to really do anything.

The first batter struck out, I was on deck. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, slowing my heart rate. Relax, I told myself, be confident.
I was up. Two outs and a runner on second. If I got out, the game would be over and our winning streak would shatter. The stands were chanting and standing and the noise was defining. The sun pounded down on me in waves and the world seemed bright and bleary.
Pitch. Swing. Strike one. I completely missed.

I looked to my coach sheepish, and he clapped his hands and nodded at me silently conveying, You can do it.

Deep breath, tap feet with bat. In the box. Wind up, pitch, swing, foul ball.

I now had two strikes on me, and I was looking on my coach. My heart was racing and my nerves burned with fire.

I got back in there. Pitch, swwiiinng, no. I held back. It skimmed the outside of the plate. I looked to the umpire, waiting his decision.
"Ball one," he announced and I let out a shaky breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
Next pitch, another foul ball. I swung late on the pitch again. I had lost my confidence and I was already felling defeated. I turned to my coach and my breaths were coming out in pants.


Everyone one in the stands cheered and yelled at me, I telling me I could do it. I can do it.

Maybe.

I got into the box, tapping my feet, swinging my bat, trying to get loose when something changed: the other teams coach called out something the pitcher, "You have her easy. She’s swinging for the fence. Put one right by her."

That startled me and furious fire rushed through me. I am not an easy out. I can do this. I will do this and no one can tell me otherwise.
My mind cleared, breaths slowed, noise seemed to evaporate from the air, and my vision tunneled into a black abyss only seeing a neon ball.
Pitch, swing, "Crack!"

The ball left my bat, sailing up the middle causing the center fielder to run after it and I started out of my stupor, turned and ran to first. The coach at first waved his arms in circular movements telling me to go to two. My head turned and I saw my teammate sliding into home: I did it.
I focused back on my running and slid into second base. Adrenaline racing, I calmed myself down and my situation seemed to rush back to me. The crowd was going wild, all my coaches were giving me thumbs up and clapping, and a huge grin had split my face. The next batter, who was our pitcher, got to first, and I to third. Unfortunately, that was it for the inning. The next batter struck out.
When I ran back to the dugout, everyone was slapping my helmet and giving me praises. The coaches calmed us down and told us that we did it at the bat, but now we have to focus in the field.

“Now we are up by one girls. That’s good, but now we need to keep our energy up and stay tight on defense and get through this next inning,” my head coach commanded us. Lots of girls had huge grins spanning our faces. We only had one thought running through our head: we would finish this game right now.

I was playing third and on top of the world. Adrenaline rushed through my veins like nicotine making me hyper and bounce on the balls of my feet. Everyone was yelling out and telling our pitcher that we believed in her.

Batters came up and batters went down. Then, the runner from second scored. We were tied again, with a runner at third base, and two outs.
The next player on their team, a big meaty girl who looked like she could out pummel a sumo wrestler, lumbered up to the plate. I took two steps back.

The first pitch, strike one. I released a breath and called out to my team, "We got it girls. We just need one out." I spoke too soon, the next pitch came and it flew.

I took a deep breath, watching the flight of the ball, as it sailed out to right field. Our player ran, put her hands out, it hit her glove, and… then it dropped.
"Game over," the ump called. We had lost the game. I felt heartbroken.


After the game, many of the girls were crying. I felt conflicted. Our head coach gathered all our girls and we sat in a group as he went over the game. To tell the truth, I remember very little of what he said, but I do remember looking over the girls faces and seeing who was crying and who looked pensive. I briefly glanced at the girl who dropped the fly ball, but turned away, angry at myself for blaming her.

I didn’t cry. I felt sad, but more exhausted. I put my best forth and was silently proud of myself for succeeding when others didn’t. There was nothing more I could do. I hung onto that as the other girls spoke about how we no longer had a winning streak.

My dad was very proud of me, and I got a lot of people congratulating me on my hit despite our loss. It was hard to keep sober when the recent memories of the adrenaline kept coming up. The rest of that afternoon was a blur.

The moments after the game were the first time when I knew that there was nothing more I could have done, and there is no reason to feel responsible for something I can’t change. I carry that through my life. Since that game I have played on many sports teams and it has been my motto to always do what you can do and that has been my goal in life to really strive for my best because if I put forth all my effort, and if I succeed or I fail, I know that it was all me and I can accept that.

Sometimes you are not going to win and things are not going to work out no matter how much you want it, really hit me hard. It is a very adult way of thinking. Despite what people tell others, just because someone tries doesn’t mean automatic success. Some things are just out of your hands.

Beyond learning life lessons, it really was a confidence booster that launched my softball and sports career. From that moment forward, I became a real contender and knew that I could and would be able to come through in those tough situations. It gave me the confidence I needed in life and helped me develop an attitude about who I am and nobody can tell me otherwise.

That moment really shaped me as a person and what defines me. I am going to be the one that comes through.

Years later, I look back on that game and despite it not being my best or even winning the game, it is what I think of when I think of success. It is what I remember when I think of defining moments. When I face adversity, it is ingrained in me.

And that, that is why it is important.