The Appeal of Softball

I step up to the plate, prepared to play my heart out. The first pitch comes.

Swing. Miss.

That's fine. I have two more strikes to spare.

Swing. Miss. It's okay I can make it up with the last. One great hit, a homerun and I'll be redeemed.

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It was Olivia that once cornered me in my office and asked me "what the hell is the appeal to softball?" And I told her.

It's different from real-life. If you mess up badly, you still have at least two more chances to redeem that mistake. In life, if you mess up, normally that problem is unalterable.

But, I told her; it is sometimes eerily like my own life. I make one mistake, but it's fine. I fixed it by doing something else. I make one more mistake, fine. I can try to fix it again.

I remember the subtle confusion marking her face as she asked, "What was your first mistake?"

And I sighed as I sat behind my desk and after a long pause I told her. I told her about David. How I fell so in love with him during high school. How I ran away with him when I turned eighteen and we got married. And how he used to beat me every night.

I told her all this while staring at my desk and when I raised my head I saw tears threatening to spill from her eyes. So identical to the ones in my eyes when she told me about her mother.

Her voice cracked when she told me that it wasn't my mistake. And I told her that it was because I had been the one that insisted on marriage. But I redeemed it by getting a divorce and going to law school.

And that, I told her, actually was my second mistake. Novak women don't go to law school, they become secretaries that marry the lawyers and then raise a litter of children. And that mistake was redeemed when I began prosecuting Sex Crimes. I was doing something good for other people and in my parent's eyes, that's better than the life they had wanted for me.

"And your third mistake?"

I sighed again and told her that it was still beginning, but that I had an idea of what it is.

"What is it?"

I told her; I'm not strong enough, smart enough, brave enough, or clever enough to do this job. And I'm afraid that I can't handle it the way . . .

That's when I let my voice fade out.

"The way Alex did?"

"Yes."

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Here comes the pitch. And I just stand there. Is it a strike?

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"You're not Alex. And nobody expects you to be."

I could only stare dumbly at her, not sure about what she was saying to me.

"You're a great lawyer, Case. And just because your style differs from Alex's doesn't mean you're not just as good as her," she said and then she pulled me into a tight hug.

And I finally felt like I had completely become part of that family dynamic that the squad has. I was no longer the outcast.

"Let me buy you a coffee."

We walked out of my office together while I explained the real appeal to softball.

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Ball one. I have another try. And I'm going to take it.