To the little girl who fell in love with the game,

I see you picking flowers in the outfield; building sandcastles in the infield. I get it, t-ball is pretty boring. How many balls are hit into the outfield over the course of the entire summer, anyway? Surely not many. So go ahead, four-year-old girl, pick those dandelions. Even if the boys on the team tease you for it.

The game of slowpitch is new to you, but you're in the swing of things (pun intended) by age ten. You're finding a home in left field, and you've become focused enough to ignore the dandelions. Second base calls you in from time to time, but you'd rather run through the grass for a fly ball than kick up dirt in the infield diving for a grounder.

By age twelve, you're learning all about fastpitch. And boy, do you love stealing bases. How could you have wasted all that time on slowpitch? It was so... well... slow. You decide you want to try out third base, and after begging your dad (who's the coach of course) he finally lets you give it a shot. After a while, you're the starting third baseman. You love the feeling of snagging a line drive when it tries to zoom past you... but when they do get past your glove, you turn around and watch the left fielder ground it and throw it in, and you're jealous. You miss the outfield already. Coaches have you try out catching, but it's the last thing you want to do. You crave the grass under your feet, the open field where you can make shoestring catches and use your speed to your advantage.

High school fastpitch scares you a little, but you bounce around the outfield and quite often pinch run for the catcher and pitcher. You form a certain bond with your fellow outfielders and vow to actually stay put there. But graduation comes in the blink of an eye, and what now?

Play in college? No, you're really not good enough for that. But how can you stop? Eighteen years old and in the best physical condition of your life, you decide to wait for summer ball. Co-ed slowpitch it is. You miss being able to steal bases, but you love your teammates so much that you decide it's a fair trade. You stay put in the outfield most of the time (right field, because the boys have longer legs and can cover the distance of the rest of the field more easily) but you also accept a job as catcher, knowing it's a good idea to have the big guys in the field.

And then you're on two teams, co-ed and all girl, playing double-headers three days a week. Can you believe how far you've come? Has it really been seventeen years since you started playing in the dirt? You've got scars on your knees from sliding into bases, holes in your spikes from so much wear and tear. You've made friends of so many ages and so many social circles over the years.

And it's all thanks to the little girl who fell in love with the game.

Thank you.