Li Hua from Senior 1

When I was four, my seven-year-old brother received a baseball mitt (手套) for his birth-day, which was also what I desperately wanted. But, back then, girls didn’t play sports; they played with dolls.

26 years later, I happened to see a notice in my local paper: “Women’s Slow-Pitch Soft-ball League opens soon. Anyone interested, sign up at the recreation center.” I cut it out and set it on the kitchen counter. Was it even possible to play baseball, a game I’d never actually played but had dreamed of playing in my entire life?

Looking at that notice on my counter, I thought of a thousand reasons I couldn’t play. But the idea of playing baseball stuck in my head and wouldn’t go away. Finally, I screwed up my courage and signed up. Days later, word came that I could begin practice in James Park on Monday night.

On Monday, heart pounding, I walked through the park filled with women of all high-school girls practicing at different diamonds. I waited a couple of minutes before approaching the coach, who seemed unhappy to see me. He had just put together top athletes for his team, and didn’t want some old lady messing things up. He looked me over, who had no mitt but wore an old T-shirt and gym shoes. However, I didn’t care.

That very first day was quite bitter. He had me run bases all night and never gave me a chance to bat or play the field, with the attempt to make me shrink from difficulty. But he had no idea how determined I was. I still showed up to play in the following Mondays, which clearly surprised him.

Finally, he gave in. During the last inning of the last game of the season, the coach told me to go to center field. I had to borrow a mitt from a member of our team and used it to catch an impossibly high ball, winning the game for us. Again, the coach looked surprised. It never hit him that I might be able to play.

After the game, I received an unexpected invitation from another coach.

It turned out I didn’t let my coach down.

When I was four, my seven-year-old brother received a baseball mitt (手套) for his birthday. Every night, as we went to sleep, I’d listen to him throwing a ball into the mitt over and over to soften the leather. I wanted a mitt so much that I almost cried. But, back then, girls didn’t play sports; they played with dolls.

Fast-forward twenty-six years. Now a thirty-year-old mother of three happened to see a notice in my local paper: “Women’s Slow-Pitch Softball League opens soon. Anyone interested, sign up at the recreation center.” I cut it out and set it on the kitchen counter. Could I ? After all these years? Was it even possible to think about playing baseball, a game I’d never actually played but had dreamed of playing my entire life? And I’d certainly watched enough Chicago Cubs games to know how the game was played.

I looked at that notice on my counter every day. I thought of a thousand reasons why I couldn’t play. But the idea of playing baseball stuck in my head and wouldn’t go away. Finally, I got up my courage and signed up at the recreation center. On the way home, I bought myself a mitt.

On Monday, heart pounding, I walked through the park filled with women of all ages practicing. It took me a while to find my team. They were all high-school girls, seventeen and eighteen years old!

The coach was not at all happy to see me. He had put together top athletes for his team, and he didn’t want some old lady messing things up.

That first day, he had me run bases. What that meant was I’d stand near home plate(本垒板)while one of the girls batted, and then I’d run as hard as I could to first base, trying to get there before they threw me out. I did this over and over and over. I never got a chance to bat or play the field. I just ran bases all night. The next morning, I could barely stand.

I was still feeling pain when I showed up to play the next week.

Having seen my determination, the coach changed his attitude toward me.

Ballet was a way of life in Kelly’s family. Her elder sister Serena was now dancing at a top college.Though Kelly’s mom always wanted her to follow in her sister’s footsteps and Kelly herself was good at ballet,her love for ballet had faded years before,and she was eager for a new challenge.

One day at school,as Kelly left the dance studio,she walked past the gym,fascinated by boxers(拳击手)training inside the boxing ring. She was deeply impressed by how hard they hit and how fast they moved. In fact, she’d long been attracted to boxing.

She pulled a piece of paper from her backpack.On the familiar Oakwood High School Club Sign-up Sheet was the phrase：BOXING CLUB TRYOUT(选拔).That was what Kelly really wanted to do.She knew her mom had high expectations for her when it came to ballet. Tired of trying to keep up with her sister, Kelly was ready to carve her own path.

The next day,she gathered her courage and told Serena about her new passion. At first, Serena didn’t understand and thought she was just joking. But when she saw Kelly was serious, she replied, “You know Mom wants you to be a ballet dancer,right? Besides, boxing is only for boys,and you’re so good at ballet.Lean into your strength,Kelly.”

“But this is where I want to put my strength,” Kelly insisted,“and what exactly does ‘only for boys’mean,anyway? Boxing is a sport for everyone!”

Gradually,touched by her determination and passion, Serena began to understand and support her.Kelly could feel it. Her sister was going to respect her decision,no matter what.But that was nothing compared to the preparations for the tryout,where she was required to show her footwork and punching(击打)abilities with other candidates. Boxing didn＇t come natural to Kelly,but she had made up her mind to stick with her choice.

Then Kelly began her training for the tryout, keeping it a secret from her mom.

The following Monday, results of the boxing tryout were posted.

A few years ago, my wife Sue had some fairly serious health problems. She had suffered surgery after surgery and had also put on weight for several years. Diets had not helped her.

One day we sat down and drew up a “wish list” of the things we wanted most out of life. One of Sue’s items was to run in a marathon. Given her history and physical limitations, I thought her goal was completely unrealistic, but Sue became committed to it.

She began by running very slowly around. Every day she ran just a little farther than she had the day before just one driveway more. “When will I ever be able to run a mile?” Sue asked one day. Soon she was running three. Then five. “We can change ourselves for the better and cause ourselves to pursue our most precious desires with almost total success,” Sue said and registered to run in the St. George Marathon in southern Utah.

I drove the mountainous road from Cedar City to St. George. When the marathon began, I parked the car near the finish line and waited for Sue to come in. Five hours later, it was raining steadily and the wind was cold. Several cold and injured runners had been transported past me, and I began to panic. The image of Sue, alone and cold, off the road somewhere, made me sick with worry. The fast and strong competitors had finished long ago, and runners were becoming fewer and fewer. Now I could not see anyone in either direction.

Almost all of the cars along the marathon route had left, and some normal traffic was beginning. I was able to drive directly up the race route. There were still no runners in view after driving almost two miles. Then I went around a bend in the road and spotted two runners running up ahead.

It was Sue in the company of a girl runner, struggling.

At the finish line, the girl hugged Sue, “You made me believe we could do it.”