Each summer, as children, my friends and I would pedal our way to the neighborhood baseball field. The grass was always too high, the infield was always unraked, the dugouts littered with shelled sunflower seeds and empty packets of Big League Chew.
Despite its imperfections, this unkempt baseball field became our second home. We learned how to really laugh there, to talk trash even when we lacked the skills to back it up and to understand the passage of time and the inevitable sorrow that accompanied growing up. We learned to become human beings on that field, and 10 years later, I am lucky enough to still follow these lessons.
Now in my fourth season participating in college softball, I cannot help but reflect on how this sport has molded me into the person I am today. Many people participate in athletics, but few grasp their importance. It is not immediately apparent to everyone that these experiences teach you to be selfless, empathetic and resilient. But, oh, if you look closely enough, you will absolutely find all of this to be true.
During my sophomore year, I walked, rather unprompted, into my coaches’ office and asked that I be allowed to step away for the remainder of the season — a decision much too complex to articulate in this column, but primarily centered around the haunting knowledge that I did not know who I was as a human being if not a softball player. Many athletes share this understanding, although few confront it before their careers end. I recognize myself as incredibly lucky to have had this privilege. Incredibly lucky, too, that I was met with an abundance of grace when I asked to be allowed to return to the same team I stepped away from.
At its core, the ability to step away at all is a privilege. A parent who must work to keep food on the table for their children cannot wander into their boss’s office and ask for time off work to figure out who they are. Survival cannot be put on the back burner — rent still gets charged, tuition dollars still get collected, loved ones still need caring for. Many people have no choice but to define themselves by what they do, because without their job, they would not survive.
This is one of our country’s great tragedies. We find ourselves so lost in the pursuit of financial well-being that our characters are often diminished before they are ever truly discovered. We are given no choice but to prioritize productivity, output and stamina.
It is not that people lack inner emotional worlds, but rather that they do not have the time, support or financial means to care for these inner needs. People all over the world recognize the need for community, living wages, understanding and empathy. It takes just a few people in power to stand up and implement programs like these. In many places, we are moving in the right direction.
Some nations, such as Finland and Sweden, have aimed to combat this by experimenting with implementing universal basic income trials and providing workers with above-average paid leave. Similarly, my coaches have implemented twice-weekly team meetings, started a book club and introduced us to the Enneagram project, which seeks to help people define themselves.
In a recent meeting of our team’s book club, my coach asked a teammate how she would define herself if prohibited from using the term “softball player.” As if she had been waiting for this question, my teammate immediately responded, “A snowboarder.” By no means do I have it all figured out, but to me, this sounded pretty similar to calling yourself a “softball player.”
It was no fault of my teammate, as everyone else, myself included, probably would have said something similar. We have grown up in a world where people define themselves by shouting out the name of the thing they do. We know no differently.
In my months off from softball during my sophomore year, I sat with two of my best friends on the couch of our apartment, watching the entirety of The Hunger Games series from start to finish. I became part of the 5 a.m. CrossFit community. My mom and I started a bread-baking journey. I went on road trips in cars full of laughter. I smelled salty ocean water and hiked trails I had never set foot on.
If you asked me, that sophomore spring, how I defined myself, I would have, for the first time since I was a child, said as a friend, a daughter and a sister, a hopeless romantic, an empath and a human capable of giving and receiving love.
As students conclude another semester, athletes another season and people everywhere another calendar year, the sentiment I’d like to convey is that the way we define ourselves moving into this next chapter matters. We participate in the world as softball players, snowboarders, coaches, lawyers, academic advisors and restaurant workers. But, one day, we will close the door on the job we do or the sport we play.
I hope, then, that we can say we are humans who loved and were loved. That throughout our roles as athletes, students, coaches, educators or workers, we can say, above all else, we were better friends, sisters, lovers, daughters and simply put, better humans.
Akira Kopec is a senior majoring in integrative neuroscience.
Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the Staff Editorial.