INDIANA STATE
Sorry, but can’t say much about the Indiana State game that you readers don’t already know, seeing as how I had to watch the game online, from my deathbed. It’s so obvious that some Indiana State super fan made a Hope voodoo doll and poked its stomach with needles all this week. But I now join in the Illini parents’ frustration with delayed Game Tracker; the website kept rejecting my credit card, so I couldn’t even watch it streamlined. I even tried using the “Howell” credit card (meant specifically for emergencies and Hope’s plane tickets home) to no avail. But the show must go on, and we wrapped it up without any problem.
As far as Easter weekend goes, I spent it with my family- yea, the orange one. Freshman year, I was in Minnesota. Sophomore year, I was in California. Junior year, Ohio State. And this year? Good ‘old Chi town.
NORTHWESTERN
Game One: The first couple of innings made it appear like our teams were matched pretty well. Ha, our bad. In one huddle, Coach said our offense was far too good to let a pitcher walk so many of us and not pay for it. Their outfield was playing shallow and had good arms, which kept us from taking two bases at a time. That’s why it seriously was a team effort- everyone in the lineup had to hit. It looked kind of like a video game to be honest. One person would get to first, and the runners would rotate spots. Repeat 300 times. Again, like Loyola, just because the 7th is the last inning is no excuse to have a quick one. We scored 7 runs; it was awesome to have Northwestern make yet another pitching change, with no one in the bullpen- Checkmate.
After the game, I made my bimonthly phone call home to wish my family “Happy Easter.” My Dad asked how I planned to worship on Sunday. Our convo:
Me: I have a game.
Dad: Well, I know, but I meant after.
Oh, Dad, you just don’t understand. Softball IS how I worship. And not even really in a “Softball is my gift, I worship God by playing,” way, but a batter with a 3-2 count with bases loaded will find God quicker in the batter’s box than in some stuffy church.
* TANGENT: This weekend, we stayed in the same hotel as the Ohio State baseball team. Some (I’m assuming high school) girls in the lobby were just swooning at these boys with squeaky clean hats. I wanted soooo badly to educate them on Baseball Hat Interpretation 101. Show me the boy’s hat and I can tell you about the player. I don’t care how handsome the dude looks, his flat brimmed, bright red hat might as well be a neon sign blinking “I DON’T PLAY.” I’d prefer the owner of a faded hat, with a bent bill and tie-dyed with electrolytes. Those are the guys you want! Bonus points if hikes his socks like Mickey Mantle.
NORTHWESTERN (EASTER)
Easter Sunday was perfect. Warm, breezy, and surrounded by loved ones. Hand in hand with your teammates, singing the national anthem, playing the game you love- regardless of one’s religious views- how can you not feel incredibly blessed? Maybe I’m just sentimental because it’s the first morning in about six days where I didn’t feel nauseated and could eat more than toast and water.
Acon truly stepped up for us the last game. Not only did she score two runs for us to get us on the board, but I haven’t seen that great of a catch since…well, since her Illinois State grab. Now, outfielders are blessed with an inherent gift to know a triple when they see one. We were playing the girl so shallow, as soon as she hit it, I thought-as I’m sure many people did- “guaranteed triple.” But before I could get “Back!” out of my mouth, Acon had already leaped in the air, snagging that screamer. Incredible, especially with the wind factor. Unfortunately, they rallied after, and scored 3. Two of my fingernails are shorter cuz of that inning, but no harm done. It just made us come back harder.
Over all, you have to give credit to the pitchers for shutting down one of the biggest offenses in the Big Ten. Batts and Monka are forces to be reckoned with, but I’d put my money on our pitchers any day of the week. Last time Batts was up, Acon said when she played against her in high school, she saw Batts hit a line drive back to a pitcher that “shattered” the girl’s arm. After Hollie’s and my jaw dropped, and after a much-deserved moment of silence for that poor girl, I joked saying if that happened today, the way Moni was throwing, the ball would merely ricochet off her titanium arm. Acon added that the ball would probably ricochet into Mer’s glove for the out.
Both wins were crucial, for our season, the seniors and the program. It was the first time Ash Bob, Bailey or I had ever won on that field, let alone swept it. Coach Sullivan said she thinks it was the first time Illinois had won on that field since 2004.
How to celebrate!?! As always, food! But wait- what could possibly be open on Easter? Enter Panda Express.
*Before I go, a quick shout out to the Illini nation- thank you for rivaling the number of Northwestern fans this weekend. And while we have the best fans in the world, Illini softball parents are particularly a rare breed. I feel as though players and parents share an unspoken bond. We may have never even met before, but after hearing about them from teammates, I feel as if I know them; and I’m sure after watching games or hearing horror stories about the upperclassmen, they feel like they know me. Parents who attend our games have possibly the most pivotal role of all: cheerfulness. It’s like a game, “Who’s parents are coming today?” They’re always energetic, happy, and what’s even better- they come bearing gifts! Our wonderful parents stocked our bus full of Easter goodies from chocolate covered pretzels to buckets of snickers (no exaggeration on the bucket). We may win the games, but they boost the morale. And as a player whose parents are 700 miles away, I am forever indebted.
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