Since the age of seven, I have played baseball. From the crack of the bat to the smell of the freshly mowed grass, I love everything about it. When I am standing on the field, the only thing I can think about is running full speed, as the the ball sails through the air and lands firmly in my glove. As soon as the first hint of spring arrives, I am on that field and I play until the snowflakes declare that baseball season has come to end. Even then, in the darkness of winter, I train and practice so that I can be ready, once again, for the spring. This story is about my greatest disappointment and my proudest achievement in the game that I love so much.

In March of 2013, baseball tryouts were announced at Downingtown Middle School. I had been anticipating them for quite some time and was ready to show all that I had. Don’t get me wrong. I knew there would be obstacles. As the youngest boy in seventh grade, I knew I would have to work harder and perform better in order to get noticed. Tryouts began on a cold day filled with snow flurries – not your typical baseball weather. I threw hard, ran fast, hit strong and made every catch that came my way. I had a chance at making the team. I truly believed that. When the first round of cuts were posted, on a chilly Sunday afternoon, I looked at the computer screen and held my breath. There, among about 20 names, was the name Jack Newcomb. I couldn’t have been happier, but there was still a long road ahead. I continued working hard through the next week. As the weekend arrived, I waited and waited for the final list to be posted. Sitting at my friend, Connor’s house, we checked for the list and found it was finally online. I searched the list, name by name, line by line, but nowhere did I find my own. The disappointment was deep and I felt incredibly discouraged.

On Monday, I did my best to be happy for my friends that made the team and not think about my own disappointments. It was a difficult thing to do. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why was I not good enough? What did I do wrong? These answers weren’t easy to find. Every Tuesday and Thursday, I practice baseball with my travel team, the Chester County Bobcats. Knowing that all of the other seventh grade boys had made their middle school teams made me dread going. Would everyone stare at me? Would they tell me I wasn’t good enough for the Bobcats, either? In my mind I knew that wouldn’t happen, but fear still settled in the pit of my stomach. When I arrived, the team was already warming up. My coach, Coach Ajjan, asked me to go for a walk with him. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I agreed to listen. He told me about how he quit baseball because he didn’t make his middle school team and regretted that choice. I shouldn’t give up, based on one coach’s opinion, he told me. He continued on, talking about how many famous athletes had not made their school teams, but continued on to do great things. He even printed out a news article talking about one athlete in particular. Coach Ajjan told me that I could write my own story. I got to choose what happened next, not the middle school coach. As we walked around the bases, talking about baseball and my future with the Bobcats, I felt encouraged. I had a lot of respect for Coach Ajjan and knew he would tell me the truth. Maybe, my future WAS in my hands. Maybe, there WAS more to my skills than the middle school coach saw. I went home that night knowing that I still had a lot to offer.

A few weeks later, I had the opportunity to show exactly what I could do. It was the end of April, 2013, and this was my first tournament of the spring season at the Ripken facility in Aberdeen, MD. The Bobcats won both of our Saturday games, putting us in a great position for Sunday. We were one of the top seeds in the playoffs. The game started very early and things were not going as well as we had hoped. A few errors and not enough hits had put us in a tough spot. The score was 5 to 2 and we were losing. With two outs in the fifth inning and men on first and third, I came to the plate. I stepped up on a 1-1 count, the pitch came in, and it skimmed me. Nothing painful, but definite contact. I told the umpire it hit me, but he didn’t see it so I didn’t get first base. The next pitch, I stepped in, ready to swing hard on a 2-1 count. I got perfect barrel and the ball sailed. It was estimated to be about 245 feet. As I rounded the bases, I will filled with pride at my first ever home run. I looked to my coach, who was waiting for me as I rounded third with a smile on his face and a high five and I returned his smile with my own. My home run allowed us to make it a tie game. We were still in it! The sixth inning progressed with no runs for either team and we moved into extra innings. With one out and nobody on, my teammate, Ryan, hit a walk-off homerun to end the game. We celebrated together and felt a new sense of purpose as we moved on in the tournament. We played hard and won our next game, putting us in position for the championship game.

Since we were facing a team known to hit well, I was chosen to pitch. As a “junk baller,” my specialty was curve balls and change ups, allowing me to often keep good hitting teams off balance. I threw one of my best games ever. Through six innings, I only gave up one earned run and we won the game, 15-2. The Bobcats won the tournament and we were all excited to receive our trophies. After each championship game, Ripken always gives away an MVP award to the player who did something exceptional during the championship game. When I heard my name, I almost couldn’t believe it. It was a moment I had only dreamt about. I could see the pride in my coach’s eyes as he congratulated me. If I could freeze one moment in time to re-live over and over again, it would be this one; standing next to my coach, MVP award in hand, knowing that I was an important part of my team and I had made him proud.

Driving home that night, I thought a lot about the middle school coach and what he thought of me. After all I had accomplished that weekend, I realized that my Bobcats’ coach was right. He didn’t know everything I could offer as a player and his opinion did not have to be who I am. Every day, I am given the opportunity to choose who I am and who I want to be. Every day, I can choose excellence, work hard and strive for something amazing. Coach Ajjan could see that in me, and now, I can see that in myself.