Imagine working for years to achieve something just to fail miserably. That’s exactly what happened to me when my whole world came crashing down. The incident I’m referring to is me not making my middle school baseball team in 8th grade. Although this may seem trivial in retrospect, in the moment, I felt crushed. In order to better understand how tragic it felt, understanding the context is very important.

My whole life, I have played baseball. Starting back when I was just two years old, baseball has always been a huge part of my life. I loved how much it allowed me to be competitive and to make my parents proud. My dad coached me a lot through Little League, and we practiced for what felt like forever. In 6th grade, I tried out for the baseball team and didn’t make it. In 7th grade, I tried out again and didn’t make it either. By the time 8th grade came around, I was skeptical but more determined than ever. I decided that if this was going to be my last chance, I would give it everything.

Months before tryouts began, I started training with the other players hoping to make the team. I trained for eight months. During the school year, workouts lasted four hours every day after school, and during the summer, they lasted three hours. Balancing workouts with school was exhausting and stressful, but I committed to it. As time went on, my hitting and fielding improved, and I began to notice changes in myself, not just physically but mentally. I felt more focused, more disciplined, and more determined than I had ever been.

As we got closer to tryouts, I felt more confident. At the end of the first day, we were instructed to throw a ball from the right field pole to third base, a far throw on a varsity field. I decided to give it my all, and for my first throw, I got there in about two bounces. On my second try, I threw with everything I had, which resulted in a loud pop. A jolting pain shot to my elbow, and it felt as if someone were stabbing it. The pain killed me, but I also felt like my opportunity to finally make the team had been ripped away from me in an instant. I tried my best to push through, but I knew deep down that chances had just slipped away.

I dragged myself through the next two days of tryouts. Then, I walked into a room with all the coaches. The head coach said, “You did not make the team.” I was a failure, and everything I worked toward amounted to what felt like nothing. I remember walking out of that room feeling like all the hours I had spent training were erased in a single sentence.

I did not make the baseball team; however, there were upsides to this whole experience. The training process I went through to prepare allowed me to get into weight lifting and the gym. Since I didn’t make the baseball team, it allowed me to make the decision to come to ARGS. Baseball is still a part of my life. I play a bit of recreational baseball, but nothing serious. I enjoy doing so as it keeps the sport I love in my life. Sports in general will always have a part of my life, as it is how I have made a lot of my friends and memories. So looking back, I can’t say I completely failed, and now that I look at the full picture, I believe I bettered myself in the long run.

© Joel. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.