For as long as I live, I will never forget this moment. I will never forget the happiness, the joy, the accomplishment. And I will never forget the unknown trial that lay ahead of me. Sorry, let me backup. That came a little too fast. It was the peak of summer; the sun was up in all its brilliance in the beginning days of July. I was sleeping deeply, but I was unfortunately interrupted. I woke up groggily. Honestly, who thinks that it’s ok just to wake someone up at 10:00! For crying out loud, it’s summer, people! When I finally opened my eyes, I saw my mother standing over me.

“Ava,” she said, “Honey, I think you might want to wake up.”

“Why would I ever want to wake up this early in summer?” I asked her, still rubbing sleep out of my eyes. She just smiled her suspicious “mom smile” at me.

“Just wake up,” she started walking to the door. At the frame, the turned around at looked at me, again with that “mom smile”! Now I was curious. “And you might want to look at the front door.”

Within minutes I was at my front door, my mom and my dog trailing a step behind me. I opened my front door, and well, many people say that their jaws dropped as an exaggeration. Mine literally did. On the front door was sign that read, “Lake Oswego All Stars! Congrats #14 Ava B.!” My mom looked at me.

“Congrats #14,” she smiled. “Look who’s going to be an All Star.”

****

“All right girls listen up,” my coach said with urgency that only the game of softball brought upon him. “This is the last inning. We have done great so far. Just to be clear, Ava pitcher, Cam behind the plate, Shelby first, Maddie second, Lia short, Ella third, Megan and Megan right and center, and Brooke you’ve got left.” He paused for a of fraction a second. “Girls, I just want to say how proud I am. I don’t care what the outcome is. I don’t care what happens on the field. You guys have been the best group of girls I have coached.” This was new. Coach was never deep like this, but then it quickly went away. “Alright girls, go get ‘em.” The girls that I had played softball with lined up to take the field. Every girl who I trusted completely. The only team that would play behind me. Ella, our heart. Brooke, who could make anyone laugh. Shelby, who you could always count on. And me, our leader. Well, sort of. I was about to go out, the last one in line, but a strong hand gripped my shoulder. I turned around.

“Ava,” I looked into my coach’s eyes. “Ava, I want you to go out and take what you deserve. You have worked your whole life for this. You deserve this. Go and take us home.”

I nodded and smiled, because that was my job. To carry the team. To lead the team.

The score 5-0, going into the bottom of the last inning. If we get one more out, one more, then we win. One more out, and we go to the World Series. The biggest stage for youth softball athletics. There was a girl on first base, and we had two outs. The count was 2-2. I looked around at my infield. I mouthed two words to them, “Remember this.”

I pitched the ball. It was a an outside pitch, belt high. One of my favorite pitches, because often the batter swings to late and the ball whizzes by them. But this girl got a piece of it.

The batter hit it right to my second baseman, Maddie. And she gobbled it up and stepped on first base. And we won. We won. We won. I know that I can never forget that. Watching Maddie run and step on first. We won. We won. Lake Oswego was going to the Little League World Series. We would play teams from Asia, Africa, Europe, Canada, and all around the USA. I rushed and hugged Maddie with intensity that rivaled the championship game. My team got a banner saying “Oregon District Four: Champions”. We took pictures. I remember that during some of the pictures, my eyes were blurred with tears. I was going to the World Series. Through all of this joy, excitement, and exhilaration, I noticed a seemingly annoying pain in my shoulder that had been going on for a while. I quickly pushed that thought out of my mind. Now was not the time for pain. Athletes play through it. I was not going to give into a slight ache.

*****

I was waiting in a lobby. I was staring at my shoes, gray nike shoes.

“Ava Brenden?” a lady with red rimmed glasses looked at her clipboard. I grinned, one of those awkward, teenage grins. She smiled back and took me into an examine room.

“So you have been having shoulder pain?” the nice lady asked.

“Yes, uh yes, I have,” I said, somehow remaining unbelievably awkward.

“And you are playing in the World Series next week?”

“Right - Uh yes. I am.”

We sat there, my mom and I, and we waited as my physical therapist examined me, with a frightening frown set on her face. She finally looked up and met my eyes.

“Well Ava, I’m sorry to say this, now I really am, but you have two areas of tendonitis and a lot of muscle inflammation. You must ice at least three times a day and try hard to limit how much you pitch. After the World Series, it is likely that you will have many activity restrictions. The problem with this injury is that first of all, it will hurt, as you probably already know, to do even basic movements. Second, your pitching just won’t be as good.” She looked at my shocked face. “I’m truly, very, sorry.”

I numbly walked out, fighting hard to hold my tears back. At the time, I didn’t completely understand my injury. I now know that basically I had two main problems: at the point of my release in my pitch, my shoulder bone literally rolled over to the point where it was damaging what was left of my shoulder muscles; the second part was when my arm went higher than shoulder length, the muscle that should’ve been protecting my arm was nearly nothing and every pitch was bone on bone contact. This was not an extreme injury, but a nonetheless very restraining overuse injury that would change the course of everything.

*****

“Man I can’t believe it!! We beat Ohio!” Maddie yelled with excitement that matched my own. We had just won against an undefeated Ohio team and (Spoiler Alert!) they later ended up winning the whole Series.

I grinned back. “You know it!” I yelled. I jumped up to give Maddie a high five and grimaced. A sharp pain seared through the top of my shoulder. She looked at me, a concerned look passing over her face.

“You good?” She asked me. I forced a smile.

“Just imagining the look on their third batter when I struck her out!” I faked.

The rest of the day was filled with celebrations and cheer, but my arm was holding me back. Why, why, why, did it have be like this? I should be out there enjoying the team and swimming with my friends, not sitting on the sidelines with an ice bag on my shoulder hoping that my shoulder doesn’t suffer permanent damage!

It was the fifth game now. We had made it to the quarter finals. We were playing team Canada. We were going to start warming up in two hours, so I was lying on my dad’s bed watching film of Canada playing previously. (I currently had three ice packs strapped to me, two on my shoulder and one on my knee. I now know that I actually have a problem with my knee too. Fun times, right?) I positioned myself carefully, as to not disturb my ice, and frowned. There it was again. The all too familiar pain. I sighed. My dad looked over at me.

“You really won’t be honest if your shoulder’s gonna fall off, will you?” He asked in a joking manner.

“Nope!” I replied, trying to make it into a joke too. But I thought about it more, and honestly, I wouldn’t tell my coach if my shoulder hurt to much. I was going to stay in until someone had to drag me off the field. This is where I was meant to be.

My team took our usual lineup in the dugout. Only this time, I was going to be leading the line. Little League rules make the pitcher go out first. That was me, for the sixth time in a row, not counting Districts. My coach looked at me, an anxious look on his face.

“Ava,” my coach said, “Look, your health is more important than this game. Please, please tell me if your arm is hurting. It will be better for you. I just want you to know that it is perfectly fine if you need to come out.” I met his eyes and put on the most convincing smile I could muster without showing any of my pain. Little did I know that this half lie was only going to cause me more pain.

“I’m good, Coach,” I said, keeping my voice surprisingly steady.

“Go get ‘em, 14,” he said. I smiled. Even though my Little League number had to be changed to 7, I knew that my real number would always be 14.

I sprinted out and took my place on the mound. I smelled the dusty smell of the dirt and the fresh paint that marked the foul lines. I looked over at my catcher, Camille, and she slapped her glove, signaling me to pitch. I smiled through the pain, through the frustration, and everything else that was weighing me down because that is just what softball does to me. It makes me genuinely smile even when the world seems to be against me.

The game was teetering on the edge the whole time. Canada took the lead, then we tied it up, then Canada took the lead again, and finally, finally, we won. We were going to the semifinals. The little town of Lake Oswego was going to be in the FINALS of the Little League World Series.

I was rewatching our game again the next day. We had Sunday off, so I was once again lying on my dad’s hotel bed with three packs of ice strapped to me. As I was looking at my pitching stats, I looked at my average speed. 51 mph?! That’s it? I was so surprised. No wonder I wasn’t pitching well! Six months ago I was pitching 59 mph. I was so disappointed. I had worked so hard to get to the World Series, and here I was, pitching at one of the lowest points I had ever performed at.

****

It is now present time. I am writing this in November, and the World Series took place in August. I am still going to physical therapy for my shoulder, but I’m happy to say that it is getting a lot better. I had to cut a lot of detail out of this, but I wanted to say that the World Series was such an amazing experience that I learned so much from. To fill things in a little, after the World Series my doctor and my parents completely shut down any shoulder activities. No throwing, pitching, lifting… Even writing was limited! I was extremely frustrated at the time, but now looking back on it, I’ve learned so much more than I would have if my shoulder wasn’t injured. I learned that being honest early could have prevented all of this from ever happening. If I had just told my coach to take me out, than I wouldn’t still be in PT. Even before the World Series, my shoulder had been hurting, however I refused to tell anyone out of fear that I wouldn’t be allowed to pitch. I look back on the World Series with great memories that I will always cherish and remember, but it is also something that I learned one of my most important lessons from. My story is still going on, and although the happy ending hasn’t happened yet, I’m sure that some day my shoulder will be back to where it was. You just have to look for the silver lining.