YOU CAN DO IT
I wanted to include a personal memory about Dad, since my first submission was more of a 2nd hand anecdote. I’ve had lots of time to think about Dad & how much I miss him, (there’s not much else to do during a 20 mile run). A few memories keep popping up…at the time, they were probably just normal day-to-day events, but looking back, I realize how significant they were. Since we are running a marathon, I thought it appropriate to include a story about how Dad taught me about sports, and more importantly to savor and enjoy learning new things. Especially if they don’t come easily.
Growing up, I always played sports. I loved the camaraderie; I loved the competition; I loved the game. Of course it’s easy to like sports your good at, but Dad taught me to continue trying, even if you’re not that good & the results could be especially rewarding. I remember a summer when I was probably about 10 years old. I played in a local softball league. My team’s name was the ‘Chasers.’ (I remember my sister Linda thought it was a pretty funny name.) I’ll quickly summarize my playing ability…I stunk. I was always at the bottom of the batting order, only got on base if I was walked & never caught any balls in the outfield. I even remember my team photo from that year – I was this pale faced kid who looked like she hadn’t even broken a sweat.
The following summer, when softball season started, I was less than enthused – ughh…the thought of that torture again for a whole summer was unbearable. Why can’t I just play soccer again, or swim…anything but the dreaded Chasers. “C’mon,” Dad said one Saturday afternoon, (when I’m sure he had a million other things to do). Out in the back yard, he had a baseball bat for me and a bunch of tennis balls, (we had this crazy dog Casey, who was obsessed with tennis balls). Dad pitched these tennis balls to me all afternoon, while Casey shagged them. “Bend your knees,” “hold the bat up,” “step into it,” “keep your eye on the ball,” Dad kept instructing, patient as always. I was so frustrated; I just wanted to quit this nonsense. Dad made me stay out there all day…blisters and all. Well, believe it or not, I started hitting those darn balls – Casey had to run into the neighbor’s yard to fetch them! We then progressed to real softballs, (crazy Casey could somehow fit softballs in her mouth too), & I was knocking those balls really far – what a great feeling!
At the next Chasers game, Coach Weingartner was pitching softballs for us to practice hitting – I excitedly waited my turn. I remember worrying a little bit about not being able to hit, but I had my lucky bat with me. My turn came…I could still hit! It wasn’t a fluke in the back yard! One after another, solid connections, good hits. That season was the best. I quickly moved up the batting order, with Jane “Boom Boom” Boomer and I sharing the 4th spot in the line-up. I was shocked - outfielders were moving back when I got to the plate! Dad helped me work on my fielding and 2nd base was mine! No more outfield for me. The Chasers made it to the league championship game & although we lost, we were thrilled that we had come back from nearly last place the season before. My team photo from that season shows a red-faced sweaty kid, grinning from ear to ear.
I think that experience was the first time I truly understood how thrilling it could be to work hard and learn something new. Dad’s encouragement never ceased – anything from a tough accounting course, to a new job, to household repairs…and running a marathon. Any self doubt I may have expressed was countered with, “Why not? You can do it.” Those words were uttered with such conviction, that it was hard not to believe. More accurately, it was impossible not to believe - Dad was always trying new things & worked hard at those things that didn’t come easily…a somewhat risky new job with a daughter still in high school, computer courses, rowing, navigation classes, the endless pursuit of the perfect golf game…the list goes on and on. Sure, successes like league championships were great, (Dad had a strong competitive streak in him), but equally important to Dad was that you tried, worked hard and learned something new.
Several years ago when my parents were cleaning out the cottage, they would pass along things we might want…photos, trophies & various keepsakes from growing-up. In a pile of my stuff, was the lucky ‘Chasers’ baseball bat. I guess the bat wasn’t really lucky after all - more likely, it was a Dad with wonderful patience & the genuine belief that, “You can do it.”
-Julie Rancourt |
