I’ve talked a lot about my love for baseball and my upbringing as a fan of the New York Mets. Growing up in the stands at Shea Stadium, 7-hour road trips to Montreal to see the Mets play the Expos, memorizing Joe Mcewing’s pre-at bat choreography, and sleeping through memorable moments of the millennium subway series that to this day my brother and dad won’t let me live down. These are all memories you don’t forget and to me, moments I carry with me every day. Everything that happens in life affects who you are as you continue on your journey.
Which leads me to where I am right now, breaking down my walls, being venerable with all you because I think that it’s important to do so. I am a lot of things, and those who know me can speak on behalf of them, but what many people don’t know is that I have a learning disability.
I was diagnosed at a very young age. They told my parents that I had ADHD (I mean, who doesn’t, right?) and a reading comprehension disability among other learning difficulties. From that moment on, my parents did everything they could to make sure my educational journey was sound. Unfortunately, and unintentionally while doing so, my confidence was bruised.
I was always a very outgoing, spunky, out-spoken kid. I was a performer, taking those qualities to the stage for dance recitals, plays, improv classes, you name it. But the second I entered a class room all those characteristics faded, and I subsequently became a different person. What I learned about our public-school system is that the resources they give us to make up for our learning differences ends up pinning us against other students. I was removed from classes to take tests, blended with students that were mentally disabled not just learning disabled, had specific class rooms and classes I had to go to for kids that needed more help. I was immediately labeled which was detrimental to a young girl’s confidence development. On top of that, I constantly dealt with old school views of teachers dehumanizing me for having a learning disability. Many people don’t consider being learning disabled a real thing and instead will automatically label you as lazy.
So here I am, struggling with something I am trying to have as much control over as I can, being labeled as lazy and feeling secluded as I try to find truth in who I am and how I should move forward.
I’d sit in a classroom while taking a test and have full blow anxiety attacks. The combination of the clock ticking by with pressure on me to perform under a strict time line mixed with my mind unable to comprehend many things that I was being tested on would cause my stomach to churn. My stomach would growl, turn, rumble to the point where other students could physically hear, which only added to the existing anxiety. (Disclaimer: If anyone reading this has been in that situation, I want them to know that test anxiety is real. It’s a true occurrence that needs to be validated.)
In high school, I went to a private school where the curriculum and the teaching methods were catered to kids with specific learning disabilities, above average IQ’s, who were socially capable, but just needed the teaching approach to cater to them personally. It was a blessing wrapped in a bow for me as for the first time in my life I felt understood. I felt smart, empowered, and I felt a bond with other students whose journey I could relate to and in turn, related to me. Of course that didn’t stop outside sources from continuing to label me.
Things like, “Lisa rides the short bus.” “Lisa goes to special school” and everything in between were used to dehumanize me daily which affected my new-found educational confidence and influenced everything I was working toward. To this day I find myself lying about where I went to high school because of the shame that I felt over 10 years ago.
At 26 years old, I still carry embarrassment from my early struggles, but with the opportunity to tell this story, I am leaving it behind.
I really started to understand the fundamentals of baseball my freshman year of college. I knew that the jump from high school to college was going to be a drastic change educationally and I found myself, for whatever reason, using it as an escape and a way to keep my mind sharp. I realized in my later years that my connection to baseball went so much deeper than just my upbringing. I started to watch games, read about current storylines and players, and most importantly, I started to understand the information that came with baseball in a way I’ve never experienced when being exposed to information before.
It was the first time I felt confident and inspired while getting to know something new. As strange as it might be, I believe that part of my connection with baseball stems from it being the first thing in life I taught myself and really understood while having a learning disability. Baseball to me in those moments wasn’t judgmental. It wasn’t forcing me to keep up with others who were understanding it’s contents faster than I was. It wasn’t labeling me as lazy or disabled. It was simply there and available for me to interact with it in any way I wanted, at my own pace and will. It was a community that I was able to become a part of without anything other than a love of and desire to learn more about. No one was judging me on how much I knew or how much I didn’t know because that wasn’t the arena I put myself in. It was a way for me to learn with confidence. It was a place I felt safe.
Think about it, baseball is a game of science and math. From statistics, analytics and timing, to it’s rich history, and people of interests; it’s a game of composition and storytelling as the stories that goes along with the game can inspire. There are so many intricate aspects of baseball that I took interest in and did the work I had to really understand it in its entirety. Like minor league baseball, the injustices, how the system works, pay levels and prospect lists. Stadium technology, types of pitching and spin rate, I picked anyones mind I could. Like scouts at Whitehouse Field in Harwich, Mass and various Mariners / Padres coaches during spring training.
But what really gave me confidence, which is what I need with anything that comes to learning, was my ability to comprehend it and therefor turn around and feel credible with what I was absorbing. I immersed myself in something and I used it as a way for me to find my inner confidence as it set the tone for the journey of the next stage of my life.
It was the first thing I ever set my mind to and truly understood on a level I never thought my brain could get to. And that to me is something that I can never lose nor something I’ll ever turn my back on. It’s a feeling I longed for my entire life. To be passionate about learning for the first time and use that knowledge to prove to people that doubted me in the past that I can be successful, and I will be successful.
The older we get the more we come to terms with struggles we went through earlier in our lives. The older we get the more we heal, understand, and recover from traumas and roadblocks we thought we’d never break through. I graduated high school in the same timeframe as every other student I knew. I was accepted into multiple colleges and I started a career in the same way as others: through internships, networking and working hard every single day. Baseball gave me a sense of relief and belonging.
I am grateful for all the educational experiences I had as it truly formed me into everything I am today. The lack of confidence in the classroom, the labeling, and the constant fear of not amounting to what others expected of me because my brain didn’t quite operate the same as everyone else’s, left me as a human who is sensitive to others, non-judgmental, and always trying to come to terms with who I am as I navigate through life.
What I want to really emphasize is that success is not measured by a 6th grade math score. Success is not measured by your SAT or ACT scores. Success is measured by who you are and how you believe in yourself. Success is measures by how you persevere and how you rise in difficult situations. No one should ever feel like their shortcomings, disabilities, or things they struggle with will enable them from being successful. That is something I felt for many years. I want everyone to know that it is what is inside you that makes all the difference. Your heart, your courage, and your passions will lead you to success, as it did for me. Our struggles shape who we are, and if we do find confidence in something: another person, a team, a job, a relationship; take every single ounce of it and wear it proud. Drink the Kool-Aid that comes from the source of your confidence and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
Recently I was accused of being arrogant for thinking I can have a voice in this industry. “Who am I to think that anyone should listen to me?” Is what they said. Well, the thing is, I don’t really care how many people read my posts. I don’t care what my reach or my engagement is. What I care about is telling the truth and having the opportunity to touch someone’s heart maybe once, with stories of others, myself, female empowerment, and my love of sports. My voice comes from my struggle and the work I put in to get to where I am today. If anyone finds that arrogant, so be it.
We forget that often times sports offers a release to those who really need it. There are people who crave stepping out to an arena or sitting down and telling a story. I can say better than anyone, we don’t know what happens behind closed doors. We don’t know the struggles that are taking place at home, inside someone, the struggles people go through to find their inner confidence. I’ve seen with my two eyes how inner demeans can disappear when sports becomes a key part of life. From a player, a fan, or a person who sees it as their future in whatever way, the connection to sports as more than a game is so powerful.
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