It was the usual night at Ming family household, about 6 years ago. We were sitting at the dinner table at around 8:30 pm, the usual dinner time since my mom always worked late. And as usual, my mom was reading papers, that came home with me from school, while eating.

With a mouth full of meat loaf, my mom looks at me. "Ash, do you want to play baseball?"

Confused, I looked at her and said, "What? I don't know how to play baseball.. Isn't that a boy sport?

She laughed. "Girls play softball, but its the same concept. They will teach you how to play. It's a learning league."

What? Softball? I don't even know the rules.. Everyone would just laugh at me. There's no way I'm doing that. I paused before responding. "Don't they wear really weird uniforms? I don't want to wear those ugly pants..."

"Oh Ash.." she claimed. "Girls don't wear those."

Lie.

"I'll sign you up tomorrow," she said.

And with that, I rose from my seat and grabbed my plate. "May I please be excused?"

The day of the first practice came, and I hated to admit it but I was a little bit excited. It wasn't that I didn't want to play softball, I just didn't want to be embarrassed because I didn't know how. My father picked me up from my moms house, he always liked to take me to my sports events.

The ride there was awful. His old commercial truck was rusty and rickety. And on top of that, he decided to hit every pot-hole in the road.

When we arrived, he went to the back, opened the garage like door and grabbed a little brown glove. He handed it to me. "Here you go darling, you'll need this. Put it on, see if it fits."

I put it on. It was a tan color, the brand was Easton. It was hard, and felt sort of like a cardboard mitten. Was it supposed to feel like this? I had no clue. I just nodded my head, and acted like I knew it fit perfectly.

We walked towards the field. They had already started, and were throwing to each other.

Of course. My first day, and I was late. Good start. Thanks dad. "Uh.. Never mind, Dad. I don't want to play softball. It looks boring. We can go now. Can we get ice cream on the way home?"

"What do you mean you don't want to play? Go out there!" He responded, not shouting, but scolding me.

"Dad, I don't want to go out there." I responded.

Before he could scold me again, a short Hispanic man walked towards us. "Hi! I'm coach Tony, are you Ashley?" he seemed very excited, and seemed like fun. But I still wasn't in the mood for 'fun'. I didn't even want to be here.

"Yes.." I said shyly.

"Come on out here, we're just throwing. You can play with Emily, she doesn't have a partner."

I could easily say no to my father, but not to the coach. I went out there and played catch with the cardboard glove he gave me. Throughout the practice, I seemed to forget how uncomfortable the glove was, and I now understood that it didn't fit when I first put it on because I didn't want it to fit. Like when your mom tells you to try a new disgusting looking food; you tell her it looks nasty and you won’t like it. So you try it. It’s not as nasty as you thought, but you don’t want it to taste good because it looks unappetizing. But after you realize you’re being unreasonable, it’s delicious.

And yes, we wore the ugly pants. The realization came to me that my mom had lied to me about girls not wearing them, just to get me to want to play.

I didn't realize until years later, but that day was the day a 10 year old girl found her passion. That hard glove has become old and soft, and seems even smaller. I keep it in the basement for remembrance of the day I didn't want to step out of my comfort zone, but chose to. Maybe I’ll start doing that more. Every time I see it, it’s a reminder of what could come if I try new things; it’s not always a bad outcome. It’s also a reminder of the day that changed my life, the day I started playing softball.