My daughter is playing softball for the first time this year and she’s loving it. So much so, in fact, that she reminded me of an important lesson last night that we probably all need a refresher on.
Yesterday was the second night of back-to-back, late-night games. We started at 7p and went until around 9p. And for a 9-year-old that’s used to going to bed at 8:30, that makes for a long week.
Not surprisingly, her and her team lacked energy in the first two innings. The first time through the batting order, every single person struck out except for one. As the game went on, it got better. But I could tell my daughter wasn’t completely recovered from the night before. When she got up to bat a second time, she struck out again.
My heart dropped for her.
I’m not trying to live vicariously through her. I don’t care if this is the only year she pursues this sport. I just genuinely want her to have fun. And as is the case, she’s found it more fun to hit the ball and run the bases instead of strike out. So as she returned to the dugout, I encouraged her.
Eventually, her team got on a roll and won the game. But my heart was still heavy. My daughter is sweet, soft, and gentle. She feels deeply. So as we walked back to the car, I decided to giver her more encouragement.
“Hey baby, it’s OK. We all have off nights. I know you didn’t hit the ball at all, but that happens sometimes,” I said.
That’s when she stopped, looked at me quizzically, and shocked me with what she said.
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