OVERCOMING THE ODDS
“It Just Takes Practice”

Since this is the first story, I thought I would use myself as the example of the month.

At the age of 10, I began to play little league baseball. It seemed like the fun thing to do, so one Saturday morning I went to the ball field by my house and signed up with a team. Many of the players on the team were one year older than me, but they let me play anyway. I was so excited. I got a uniform and I was ready to play ball.

Even though I was ready to play when the first game came around, everyone took notice of one thing. Joe Manno could not play baseball very well. The coach played everyone, good or not, and I was one of the “not.” I played all the outfield positions and did very well as long as the ball didn't come my way. I dropped the ball almost every time it came to me, except one time I not only dropped the ball, but broke my right index finger as well. I was out for a game or two, which was better for the team anyway.

I thought my talent would shine when I took the bat to the plate, but that was even worse. No matter how hard I tried, I could never hit that ball. I didn't even foul tip it. Not once… not all year long. I got on base once because my dad said stand at the plate, son, and don’t swing at anything. Maybe they will walk you by accident. Walk me they did, and first base was all I ever saw that year.

It was so humiliating for me that I wanted to quit. Every time at bat, all I heard was the ball hitting the catcher’s mitt. Every time a ball was hit to me in the outfield, all I heard was the sound of the ball hitting the grass. The season ended and Joe Manno was the strike out king.

At the end of the season, the coach suggested to my dad that I play on a team that had more players my age. My dad agreed, and the next baseball season I joined the team that had players my own age.

Before the new season began, my dad would come home from work and take me to the ball field for batting practice. No batting cages, just him pitching and me trying to hit that little humiliating white baseball. Every night we would play catch, he would hit the ball to me and I would try and hit the ball to him.

The dreaded day came and it was time for the first game of the new season. They put me at second base, I don’t know why, but I was too young to argue so I did what they had asked of me.

I will never forget my first time at bat. My dad had bought me a little blue aluminum bat. I stared at the pitcher waiting for the first pitch to humiliate me. It looked like he was pitching in slow motion. I just wanted to strike out and get it over with. The first pitch headed right down the middle and away I swang. For the first time in a game, I heard a loud pinging sound. It was the ball flying off the end of my little blue bat. It was a pop fly to right field and it went so far that it changed zip codes in mid air. I didn't even run I just stared at it, not to mention the fact I had never hit the ball before, so running around the bases was new to me. The entire dugout shouted, “Run!” I remember taking off and not stopping until I got to third. It was my first time at bat and I had hit a triple. It felt so good that I wanted to go to the plate and hit again.

You never think practicing makes a difference, but it all paid off. That year I hit 22 triples, 14 doubles and a hand full of singles. Yes, I even hit a home run. I was the top hitter on the team and very few balls got past me in the field, at second base.

What was a weight on my shoulder became pure joy. It just took a lot of practicing and a lot of hard work.

You can do it. Never give up!

Your Friend,
Joe Manno