Thanks Dad!

To my dad, Todd Harris:

Now, as I begin the next chapter of my softball story, I feel the need to write down a prologue. Here's to you, dad, for all the blood, sweat, tears, long car rides, and consumption of empty calories we've shared all these years.

I still remember that fateful day when our softball journey began. I was seven years-old, shooting hoops at Reeves with Sarah and Sammy, when you asked the question that would change our lives forever: "Do you want to sign up for Little League?" I remember the trepidation I felt about playing a sport for which I had no prior experience (other than tee-ball), but the equal desire I had to one-up Sarah when she so readily jumped on the boat. Little did we know how much this little decision would affect the rest of our lives.

I still remember my first pitching clinic at the North Carolina Baseball Academy with Lisa Navas, and how frustrated I became with myself when I could not for the life of me get that hockey puck to roll for 35 feet. I also remember how embarassed I was when Lisa told my pre-pubescent self to "show off what I've got" by pushing back my shoulders during my windup.

I still remember the first time we talked about college, and how in the fourth grade I wrote in a journal entry to my teacher about how much I wanted to play Ivy League softball. To this day the pomegranate-scented, gel-penned entry still smells as good as it did when I wrote those words down ten years ago.

I still remember the Cubs and how we went from being the Bad News Bears to a Little League dynasty thanks to your precarious coaching skills. I still smile every time I walk by that championship photo at Reeves on the way to work out.

I still remember our first trip down the road, and how it ended in turning right around, thanks to the monsoon that fell out of the sky that day. I still remember my first impression of Harvey (to be honest, I was a little afraid of him), as well as that nasty Chinese food we ate in Concord on the drive back home.

I still remember perhaps my greatest moment in this sport in the 12U NSA State Championships. The Blues were facing off against the Peaches in a time-expired 7-6 ball game. It was the bottom of the sixth, and we had to hold them to clinch the title. They had a runner on second, one out, and the cleanup batter was up. I was hugging the line in deep left field when the batter hit a shallow fly ball over Haley Whitley's left shoulder at shortstop. I still remember sprinting after that ball (I think that's the fastest I've ever ran) and how I almost fell over when the ball snow-coned into my mitt. I also remember the look on the runner's face when I caught her off guard by tossing the ball to Haley at second for the winning double play.
I still remember that hitting slump I went into in the 7th grade, and how we attempted (perhaps futiley) to turn me into a full-time slapper.

I still remember that one tournament we played in with the Dominators: the ISA World Series, in which we defeated the Miami Heatwave to secure 7th place in the country.

I still remember that AAU tournament at Rocky River, in which I slid into home plate only to catch my cleats in the catcher's mask, who then decided to jerk her head, consequently breaking my ankle. I also remember how "upset" Harvey was with me when I decided to get an orange cast over the Heat's red and yellow.

I still remember our return to Coach John in 14U, as well as the one game where in back-to-back plays I dove over the fence to rob a homerun (I do believe, however, that the umpire said they would have still had to rule the hit as a homerun, since my entire body was over the fence), only the second time, I went through the fence when the ball bounced off of it, then off my head, then over, to ultimately be ruled as a stand-up double. I think the only reason the officials didn't rule it as a homerun was because of the giant welt between my eyes.

I still remember those workouts we had to do with Coach Apple when the Blues moved up to 16's, and how I thought I wasn't going to survive those Sunday afternoons when we had to run 2 miles, run 20 stairs at the Piedmont High football stadium, held planks for 3 minutes at a time, and did so many dots that I began seeing dots, myself. I still remember having to complete that work out regimen to send into Coach John every week, and how they coerced me to work on homework until 3 AM.

I still remember our first trip to Boulder, and how I vowed to never again drive across the country in two fourteen-hour days with Sammy in the back seat next to me. I still remember how inappropriate it was of us to ask for Lisa Fernandez's autograph while she was in the middle of recruiting a game, but also how surprised we were when she actually signed our ball.

I still remember our visit to the University of Chicago on the way home and how it felt for the first time to be wanted by a college program. As I toured the campus with Coach Kmak, I think it really hit me for the first time just how close college really was.

I also remember making a point not to drive through the South Side again on the way out of campus.

I still remember how I upset I was when John's team folded at the end of that summer, and how we spent the subsequent eight months searching for somewhere to play. I still remember traveling up and down the eastern seaboard, playing everywhere from Florida in Rising Stars to DC with the Shamrocks. I still remember how grateful I was when Rodney opened his arms for me on the 18U Blues, and how, thanks to his opportunity, we were able to keep my dream alive.

I still remember Tuesday, March 24th, 2009 when I pitched that perfect game against Alleghany, subsequently being crowned by WIFM as their Tri-County Athlete.

I still remember pitching that 10-0 shutout against North Surry, embarassing the Greyhounds after they talked all that trash about how they were going to butcher us after their 7-0 victory over us at the beginning of the season.

I still remember (well, not really) the State Games tryout at Alexander Central when I had that heat stroke, and how for the next two weeks I spoke like Stephen Hawking thanks to the overdose of Adivan the Wilkes Regional ER put into my IV.

I still remember how surreal it felt to return to Boulder this summer, and how I miraculously lacked nervousness as Princeton, Dartmouth, Wellesley, Yale, and Harvard stopped by to watch me play. I still remember our visit to the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, and the deliciousness of the elk and buffalo barbecue sandwiches we ate. I still remember how amazing our ghost tour was, and how my paranormal experience on the third floor could've prompted Steven King to write a sequel to "The Shining".

I still remember our trip up to Dartmouth at the beginning of August, and, as we woke up to 38-degree weather, how we wondered we were going to afford all the L.L. Bean, North Face, and Mountain Hardware we were going to have to purchase just to sruvive the frigid New England winter.

I still remember how I almost screwed everything up when I put my boyfriend ahead of my family, how I almost gave up everything to (put it in the words of Harvey Renfro) be complacent and settle at Carolina with him next year. I still remember how his first week of college proved to me that, even after a year's relationship, an 18 year-old boy's preferences are as prone to change as his testosterone is to pumping. Our breakup taught me a lesson (albeit the hard way) to never again put someone else ahead of my own family.

I still remember our trip to Wellesley, and how I realized I could still have fun despite the prospect of attending an all-women's college. I still remember laughing at the shirts we saw in the Wang which said "It's not a girl's school without men; it's a women's college without boys." I still remember how appreciative I was of Coach O'Meara's coaching abilities and her desire for me, the amazing team chemistry of the ladies of the Blue, and of Professor Bauer allowing me to play with her $12 million telescope to look at the Cat's Eye Nebula and the Andomeda Galaxy. I still remember Coach O'Meara telling me that her intuition told her not to recruit any other outfielders other than me, because she saw me as the paradigm of a Wellesley Woman.

I still remember my Saturday night with Chase at Brown on the way home, and the culture shock that came with observing weekend Ivy League partying at its best. I still remember how I tried to act "cool" as he introduced me to Emma Watson. To put it bluntly, I failed. I'm also wondering how you're going to feel when I tell you that he and his friends plan on kidnapping me on random weekends to take with them back to Providence. (Perhaps an online thread wasn't the best place?)

I still remember making my decision to accept my offer at Wellesley, your reaction to it, Coach O'Meara's delight when I told her of it over the phone, and the subsequent daydreaming that came as I look ahead to my next four years in Boston.

Now, as my softball journey comes full circle, I can't but be nostalgic when I realize that I'm going to continue as a "Lady" BLUE. Perhaps it was all meant to be, after all.

As I wrap up this encyclopedia, I just want to add one more thing. Dad, I cannot thank you enough for everything you've done to bring me where I am today. Thank you for driving me all over the country (even if we had to listen to reruns of NPR three times a day), thank you for all the money you've spent on 2004 Rockettechs, Ringor cleats, and Nakona gloves, but most importantly, thank you for never losing faith in me. It is that facet of our journey that has helped me realize my dream.

I love you, dad. I can't wait for you to come down the road again. This time, though, you don't have to worry about finding a 24-hour McDonald's to feed me on the way home.

Now and forever your Lady Blue,

Rachel

 

I don't care how much money you spend, it has to be worth every penny for memories like that. What a fantastic thank you letter. I don't know you but, you have to be a very special lady.

 

This is why we play Fastpitch ...GREAT Thank You letter !!!!!

 

Rachel, I'll speak for my buddy, your dad.......because it'll take a week for that good man to get the proud lump out of his throat and then he'll still tear up!
Awesome post honey.
Good luck at one of THE most prestigious schools in the world!


PS: my personal favorite is the "boyfriend kicked to the curb blast"!

Proud, Proud, Proud!!!!!

Fishman

 

Heck, we won't have to wait on Todd, i think i've got a tear or twelve from this post. A true testament of the fine job you guys did with this quite amazing young lady!!!
Rachel, may your future journey be as great as your past has been and KICK BUTT!!!

 

That is good stuff right there!!! I know it put some tears in my eyes. Nice post.

 

One of my favorite posts in the nearly 9 years of TBR...outstanding!!!!!

 

AWESOME!

Congrats to you, Rachel! I'm sure your dad has tears in his eyes as I do....

 

That is what it is about!

Rachel, I am so happy for your success and feel you made a great choice on schools! You truly have a supportive family and a Dad that never gives up!
Best of luck and enjoy the rest of the year as the pressure is all gone!

 

Well -almost- all the pressure is gone. I've got one final goal for the year, and it's to maintain my graduating as valedictorian. Speaking of school, I should probably get back to studying for the calculus test I have tomorrow morning. Wish me luck!