I am on my way to Fort Myers for spring break, currently in the air over the Carolinas, I would guess. It will be one of the last of many journeys -- both great and small -- that I have taken over the past two decades to watch my daughters play softball. It is hard to believe that this spring season, which looks promising for this year's team, may be the last time I enjoy this particular parenting experience.
My younger daughter is the captain of a struggling and unsung Division III softball team. She plays catcher, a new position she picked up last year when the previous year's catcher graduated and it looked like there would be a hole in the lineup. Nobody on this team has a scholarship to play softball, which is the rule for Division III. There are no prima donnas and lots of good friends; the camaraderie, in constrast to the win-loss record, is remarkable. One player just got off her crutches; another has a torn ACL and is going to spring training just to be with the team. The coach is a diminutive young woman with a big heart and great skills in working with college girls. This is her first year with this team and the players love her and rave about the spirit she brings. If any coach can get this team to the post season, she can. I am glad my daughter's last season is with a great coach, for this season will be remembered. That many coaches over the years have not been great is an understatement that too many parents would agree with.
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