Humble Pie
Maddie Whitten
Sweat is clinging to me; hair is matted to my face. I’m on third base, waiting to run home. My coach is screaming something- but frankly, I cant concentrate on anything, let alone her. My teammate’s bat collides with the florescent yellow ball, sending it whistling towards second. This is my chance. I sprint forward, not seeing anything but home plate. I crush the bag under my foot, and pride and joy swells up inside me. The crowd hollers and praises, letting my head swell a bit more. I beam as I walk towards the dugout, knowing what will happen next. The next batter slaps my hand, smiling.
“Great job!” my peer announces, nodding her head.
“Awesome hit!” adds another girl.
A line of out stretched hands greets me, awaiting a whack. I grin even more, meeting each one of their palms. I know I did well, is obvious to anyone. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the endorphins, but I am so enamored with this aura of pride. I look into each one of my team’s faces, seeing their pleased expressions.
And then it happens. I turn towards my family on the bleachers, searching for more adoration. They are all angled to me, and I feel their gazes on my face. But right now, my concentration is focused on her. Piled on with pink, ponies, and inner purity, she meets my gaze. Her eyes instantly light up, running towards the dugout. I walk out to meet her. On the other side of the chain link fence, she says the most simple and adorable thing I have ever heard:
“Good job! I love you.”
It was some combination of her absolute firmness, and her naiveté that really struck me. As other girls lined up to bat, concentrating on the game, I was pondering. How does this crazed world look to a three year old? Is every situation so straightforward and clear? “Be humble as a little child” suddenly came to mind. As my ego was growing, my sister was untainted by it. She did not care if I scored a point, heck, she wouldn’t care if I won the whole game. I am her sister, and she loves me. It is as plain as day, but something I failed to notice. In the eyes of a child, each moment is precious, and every little act is paramount. When we grow up, we forget this. When I heard my three year old sister say this, it put me in my place in a split second. Will this game matter tomorrow? Probably. In a month perhaps? Most definitely not. Sometimes, I think we have to realize that this one inconsequential moment will not matter in the long run, so why ruin it with gloating and big egos? “Swallow your pride occasionally, it's non-fattening!” —Anonymous
Lost in Wyoming
14 years ago
