Life at a 3-1 count

Going into sophomore year it felt like the bottom of the ninth, tied game, runners in scoring position, and a full count. One wrong move and I strike out, setting a tone for the rest of my high school career, but one fastball down the middle and I take it 450 dead centers and start the next three years on the right foot. Much like baseball, high school is a game of risk and failure. Sometimes you strike out looking and it knocks down your stats, but nothing that can’t be brought up by simple a base hit. High school is a nasty breaking ball, it can throw you off, or you can hang it and go yard. Either way, you win some and you lose some, something I learned very quickly. Like the game of baseball, I grew to love every second of high school, so unpredictable yet so captivating.

The vastness of Har-Ber could swallow all of my previous schools. As a result, my expectations of high school were a mixture of confusion, doubt, and fear of failure. Being barely 15, I had no sense of self or identity, I was a rookie anxiously waiting for my debut. I doubted my place in the social hierarchy, I didn’t want to just be stuck in the middle of the nasty social group stigmas that are placed around high school. I was terrified to simply blend in and regret not making more of it once the time came for me to leave, I didn’t want to be a mid-rotation kind of player. I strived for more, to be apart of something.

I made the volleyball team sophomore year and I couldn’t be more thankful. Sports, especially baseball, have always been near and dear to my heart, but the volleyball team here at Har-Ber was something else. Yes, we had our faults, no we didn’t get along all the time, but it was a family. Like all families, we had our highs and our lows; when it came down to it, they were there for me. They were my biggest fans and the people that pushed me the hardest. I gained life long friends that more like sisters through this team. All in all, I wouldn’t trade any of those girls or coaches for the world, so thank you Har-Ber volleyball.

You taught me to never underestimate myself. No matter how big the person on the other side of the net may be, I can overcome.

Sophomore year I also joined the journalism program, best decision of my life. In J1 I sat, usually pretty kept to myself but always quietly admiring how strong and outgoing the advisor was. I thank God everyday for placing Karla Sprague in my life, she was the Bobby Cox of journalism. Cox built a dynasty with the 1991-2005 Atlanta Braves, much like Karla Sprague has made a dynasty with Har-Ber journalism. Through the next year, my love for journalism would grow as I moved into newspaper. My junior year was a building season for our humble team of four, but the relationships made were World Series caliber. I grew even closer to Mrs. Sprague, a leader that taught with an iron fist but a soft heart, and gained friends and even a very best friend.

Newspaper that year brought me together with people I never would have crossed paths with. Chase Strickland, one of the writers on staff last year, became one of my very best friends and I can not thank newspaper enough for him.

Onto senior year of newspaper and I’m promoted to the editor-in-chief of the program, the leadoff man, a position I still don’t see myself fit for. This year I’ve gained even more relationships and have seen my journalism experience flourish with everything this year has brought. I fought the powers that be for our staff’s rights with Jack Williams at my side, we took a 97 mph fastball to the elbow from the administration to get my team in scoring position. I would have never imagined gaining such a great friend in him like I have.

Complete opposites, Jack and I have become close through the various late nights and interviews that came along with this year. He can tell me about politics and I can tell him about sports, it’s been this way all year and I wouldn’t change a thing. Together and with Sprague we’ve executed the best 6-4-3 double play possible.

The entire staff has shown me that it’s always about something more than myself. Other than my actual family, this team of people has rallied behind like no one else. Thank you newspaper and Sprague for believing in me and showing me that this is what I want to do in life.

Lastly, the endless volleyball tournaments all over the country, the tons of practices late at night, and all of the conventions and workshops for newspaper, my family has been at the center of it all. The most selfless people of all, my parents stand by me and love me through my mountains and valleys in life. They’re like the farm teams in baseball. They spend all of their time building me into the most of my potential to let me go to the big leagues. They’re the reason I am where I am, but sadly, they don’t always get the credit they deserve. So, thank you family for being the best support group and role models in my life. To dad, Amber, and Jax, thank you for never giving up on me when I’m in a slump.

High school is a lot like baseball, sometimes you’re down in the ninth, and sometimes you  have 5 run innings. In the end, high school has taught me how to live life like a 3-1 count.