Personal Statement
I’d love to say that I was always a fierce competitor, but then I’d be lying. I grew up playing softball and started when I was five years old. However, my “competitive” streak didn’t take place until I was eight years old. This was when I experienced my first competitive tournament with my travel ball team. My first at bat is one I will never live down. My mom constantly reminds me of what happened. She laughs and remembers how I stood in the batter’s box and watched four balls go by me. Unbelievably, without swinging the bat, I was able to get on base. I took the signal from my coach to steal; I stole second and then third safely. I then stole home and slid only to discover that I was a few inches away from home plate. This is the part in the story when my family laughs uncontrollably. So, like any competitive baller, I pointed my toe, like a ballerina, and tried to reach the plate. When that was not enough, I scooted forward on my bottom, with my pointed toe and was finally called safe.
When I was 11 years old, during another tournament, I broke my leg while tagging a girl in the middle of first and second. I waited near 2nd base for the ambulance to transport me and told myself that I probably just needed ice. My mom, who was watching my sister, was called to go to the hospital; my dad stayed at the field to finish coaching the team. The ride was a blur and I prayed that the x-rays were wrong. I was out for five months and spent that summer and fall in a bright neon green full leg cast. As disappointed as I was at the situation, I attended every practice and every game to be there for my team. Not being able to play was the worst thing imaginable and it helped me to understand that this sport is truly my love and my passion. I couldn’t wait to get back on the dirt.
I’ve made many mistakes and errors and even failed at first attempts, however, I’ve learned that by practicing, working hard, and believing in myself that I can always learn something and that I can always be better than the day before. Just in these two experiences, I’ve learned to never run at a runner to tag them out, to get back up when you’re knocked down, and to try harder rather than give up. It must be working; since my first tournament, I’ve never missed home plate by a few inches because home is where the heart is.
