The 'Unlikely' Player

The sound of rejection is never loud. The sound that fills the void between your breath and your heartbeat is a constant, quiet shutting rather than the loud smash of a door. It's a long hush, a gap that falls like dust on a shelf where your dreams should have been. Rejection can sometimes have nothing to do with you. Others may not perceive your value because they are too sluggish or hesitant to make room for something new or unique. They disregard the other options without giving them a second thought, opting instead for the simplest route, the one that is comfortable and familiar. Saying "no" is simpler than making the effort to comprehend, believe, or adapt. Rejection like that hurts in a different way. It's more than simply a door that's closed; it's a hand shoving you away and an unconscious denial that you might be more than they anticipate. However, your path is not defined by their indolence or fear of exertion. It's just a shade over your sun, a temporary obstruction that your light will eventually pass through.

I was nearing the end of my sophomore year of high school when I learnt and felt these facts. The athletic season was coming to an end, and final exams were just getting started. It was a season of endings. However, something surprising was happening to me; my athletic aspirations were subtly being awakened. I had been feeling a little unsteady since winter track. I decided to pursue a more analytical educational path, delving deeply into the classroom and experiencing numerous amazing successes. But as the year came to an end, I started to think about where I had been, where I was heading, and what I really wanted to achieve. At the time, not participating in spring track felt to me like a piece missing from a puzzle, an incomplete chapter in a story I wasn't sure how to finish. However, as I watched the Yankees battle the Reds in my room one evening, a fresh realisation dawned on me: there is never just one way to achieve a goal of success.

This all brought me back to the final weeks of my freshman year, a time when I had just joined my first sport in years. After recovering from my shoulder surgery, it felt like a significant step. Cross-country was challenging. I initially wondered if I could handle it or if my body could handle it.

 However, I persisted. I pushed myself intellectually and physically in ways I had never done before. I went from hardly being able to move in September 2023 to running 3 miles on nature trails in a matter of months. The advancement seemed unattainable. I learnt from it that a "broken car" doesn't always remain broken. Sometimes all it takes to get back into the swing of things is a little encouragement and patience.

We watched a lot of sports in my house, but most of my energy went into music. That’s where I stood out. I also participated in boxing, wrestling, and martial arts for a while, and although I was skilled at both, I never thought I wanted to pursue them formally.

 In hindsight, perhaps the attraction to baseball began sooner than I thought.

 When I was five, I was playing across the street with my best friend, we decided to go play with his neighbour, since he just got a new jungle gym.  As my friends played, his father tossed me the baseball. I got to try on a catcher's mitt thanks to him. As he gently tossed the ball towards me, I recalled how interesting  it felt to throw, and just how interesting the sport was, as he explained that I would need a "lefty glove" in the future.   It's odd that I can still recall this particular moment, things stick for a reason. I do not think anyone else remembers this moment. Then sophomore year, during gym class, it all came back to me. Using baseball rules, we were playing kickball on the softball pitch before moving on to wiffle ball. I was able to swing and make contact for the first time. It was straightforward and informal, but that moment brought back memories of holding the catcher's glove when I was five years old. I felt a little nostalgic.

That memory stayed with me as I sat at my laptop, staring at the athletic director’s email. "You won't be able to play," he stated clearly. Because softball, as he stated, was for girls, and baseball was for boys.

 However, I wasn't yet prepared to accept that. I considered all the times I had already been told no and all the boundaries that had been established for me before I had even been given the opportunity to try. I therefore began my research. I looked through school policy, state athletic guidelines, and any other information I could discover. I finally found what I was looking for, but it took some time. His statement wasn't entirely accurate. I wasn't blocked by the rules as  were written. When his response eventually came,“Lets discuss in the fall”,it wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. That gave me the motivation to keep going.

 Because if I've learnt anything, it's that perseverance counts. Not every door will open when you knock. You may need to knock more forcefully at times. Showing people why they were incorrect to close it in the first place is sometimes necessary.

Now I stand on the softball field, batting baseballs, watching the sun set above the track, training for who I would be the spring of my junior year.

Using a soft-toss machine at the Softball field, training for Baseball.

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Feelings can be hard to untangle, particularly during high school when life feels like it’s moving too fast to catch your breath. The word "why" begins to weigh more heavily than anything else during those times. Why am I feeling this way? Why am I unable to concentrate? Why does fear feel like pressure? These were more than simply idle questions to me. I have to confront these silent conflicts head-on. I felt the way I did for the following reasons:

I felt Rejected

Why:I was told I couldn't play baseball because of regulations that didn't feel right, not because I was a bad player. I felt as though my efforts were in vain and that I was being fired before I had a chance to prove myself.

The neurology behind it:

• When we are rejected or excluded, the brain's anterior cingulate cortex, which deals with social trauma, becomes active. Rejection is nearly as painful to the brain as physical pain.

• The amygdala senses the "threat" of rejection and triggers the fight-or-flight or freeze response, causing the body to overproduce stress hormones.

I felt Determined

Why: I refused to give up, even when met with answers that brought me down, instead, trusting my own findings, looking into school policies, and state laws.

The neurology behind it:

• The dorsolateral prefrontal cortex activated and helped in, helping me plan, analyze, and stay focused on my goal. I was inspired to keep trying even when the process felt difficult since my dopamine pathways lighted up as I visualised accomplishment. The dorsolateral prefrontal cortex is a core region in the brain that is responsible for goal-directed behaviour.

I felt Frustrated

Why:I was told that I was not permitted to play the sport that I love and train for due to my gender before a proper assessment.

The neurology behind it:

• Anger and stress feel physical because frustration activates the insula, which aids in monitoring internal bodily states.

I felt Hopeful and Resilient

Why:Even without a clear answer, I felt that I still had a chance to train for the next baseball season.

The neurology behind it:

• The nucleus accumbens, a brain region responsible for reward systems, played a roll in creating motivating behaviour, such as when I batted the ball into the outfield.

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Always stay resilient, never take no for an answer when the answer given puts you down to a lower level. Allow rejection to let you rise above. I believe that we all have potential to achieve great things. However, it all starts from the negative times in ones life. As my math teacher once said, "2 negatives equals a positive.", and as I look back, though math was not my strongest subject this year, he was right, in all aspects of life.

Stay strong, be you for you.

-Anastasia K