This week has been tough; between a hectic work schedule and getting strep throat, it has just been tough. But this week has been tough for another reason: At the North Davidson High School football game, Mike Lambros, softball coach, mentor, and all around special man, was honored at halftime and (for obvious reasons) I wasn’t able to go. This is a man that only ever wants the best for his students, cared for us both on and off the field. The women that he helped mentor over the course of many many years returned to help honor him, and I couldn’t be there no matter how much I wish I could have.
Before the softball season started my junior year, I realized that the thought of going to practice caused a deep sense of dread, not just some artificial I don’t want to go to practice dread, but rather a dread that was so rooted in my being I couldn’t begin to fathom. I had fallen out of love with the sport. And that’s okay. My parents were supportive, and I knew that I shouldn’t commit to another full season if my heart wasn’t in it. I knew I had to tell Coach about my decision, rather than being expected on that first day of practice and just not showing up. Telling Lambros that I couldn’t play for him anymore was possibly the toughest thing I had to do in high school, but it was the right thing. I was so worried that he would hate me or be disappointed in me, but he knew softball wasn’t my passion, and he was proud of me for listening to my gut.
Committing to a year of service is tough. Having the courage to move away is tough. But I know I am where I need to be. I know that I have a home community that I will forever be a part of. I know that striving for anything less than excellence in everything would be a dishonor to what was instilled in me from my home community. But it’s still tough
Once a Black Knight, Always a Black Knight. YEAH BABY