I grew up loving softball. The early years were pure joy: the smell of the dirt, the sound of cleats on the field, the thrill of getting better at something I cared about.
Then the hyper-competitive world of elite travel ball changed everything.
Like a lot of young athletes, I got swept into the expensive summer leagues and high-pressure team selections that define youth sports today. I was fortunate to play at a competitive level early. But that exposure came with adversity I wasn't prepared for, and for a while, it nearly destroyed my love for the game entirely.
The Rejection That Started Everything
When I was 12, a coach refused to accept me on a higher-level team. I felt like there was personal bias at play, though I couldn't prove it. What I could feel was the devastation.
At 12 years old, rejection like that hits different. You don't have the perspective to understand that one person's opinion doesn't define your ability. You just feel the pain.
After that, I started struggling in almost every aspect of the game. Offense, defense, confidence: all of it crumbled. The joy I once felt stepping onto a field turned into dread.
The next season, I joined a new association hoping for a fresh start. But I carried the disappointment with me. Instead of showing up early to practice because I couldn't wait to play, I arrived right on time and counted the minutes until I could leave. The sound of cleats on dirt didn't excite me anymore. It reminded me of everything that had gone wrong.
Four Years of Being Overlooked
Between ages 12 and 16, I bounced from team to team, spending thousands of dollars on private training, camps, and clinics. I was preparing for what was supposed to be the best four years of my athletic life: high school ball and the chance to get noticed by college coaches.
Instead, high school became the most traumatic chapter of my softball career.
The head coach was the same person who had rejected me at 12. His opinion of me hadn't changed. For four years, I never once stepped onto the varsity field.
Senior night, when other players were honored and celebrated, I wasn't invited to dress. At the banquet, I wasn't recognized the way my teammates were. For senior pictures, I was forced to wear a different jersey while everyone else wore their varsity uniforms.
By the time I graduated, I was done. College softball seemed impossible. I quit, threw away my cleats, packed my jerseys so I'd never have to look at them again, and tried to forget that softball had ever been part of my life.
The Game Found Me Anyway
I chose community college to save money and start fresh with no distractions. No sports. No pressure. Just school.
Then, while registering for classes, I met the softball coach. She invited me to play.
Something in me said yes.
I didn't know it at the time, but that decision would change my life.
Breaking Records I Never Expected to Set
My two years at junior college were nothing like the years that came before.
I broke three school records: most home runs in a season (20), most RBIs in a season (98), and highest slugging percentage (1.269). I led the National Junior College Division III leaderboard in home runs and RBIs in 2019.
I was named First Team NFCA All-American and Second Team NJCAA All-American. I earned a spot on the MCAC All-Southern Division Team and collected weekly awards I never imagined receiving.
The girl who couldn't make varsity in high school became a record-breaking college player.
What Changed
The talent was always there. What changed was the environment.
For the first time since I was 12, softball felt safe. It was a stress reliever instead of a source of anxiety. I was surrounded by coaches who believed in me and teammates who lifted me up.
I realized something important: my struggles in high school weren't about my ability. They were about a system and a coach who never gave me a fair chance. When I found people who did, everything shifted.
What I Want Parents to Understand
If your child is going through something similar, if they're being overlooked, undervalued, or losing their love for a sport they once adored, I want you to know that the story isn't over.
One coach's opinion is not the final word. One bad season, or even four bad years, doesn't determine what's possible. The path forward might look different than you expected, but it can still lead somewhere beautiful.
I spent years believing I wasn't good enough because people in positions of authority told me so, directly and indirectly. I almost quit for good. The only reason I didn't is because somewhere deep down, I loved softball more than I hated the way I'd been treated.
That love was still there, waiting for a chance to come back.
What I Tell My Players Now
I'm a coach myself now. And I carry every feeling from my journey, good and bad, into how I lead my players.
I teach flexibility, adaptability, and mental strength because those are the things that got me through. I remind my athletes that their path might not be straight. They might face coaches who don't believe in them, systems that feel unfair, and moments that make them want to quit.
But if they love the game, if they keep pushing even when it hurts, they can find their way back. The field will be there when they're ready.
The Lesson That Stays With Me
Looking back, the sum of my successes is greater than the obstacles I faced. But I had to live through those obstacles to get here.
I taught myself to keep going because my coaches didn't believe in me, and waiting for their approval would have meant waiting forever. I learned that perseverance isn't about ignoring the pain. It's about carrying it with you and moving forward anyway.
I'm now finishing my bachelor's degree in clinical psychology while playing NCAA Division III softball. I'm living the dream that felt impossible when I threw away my cleats at 18.
The game I tried to leave behind became the thing that healed me. And I'll carry that lesson into every part of my life.
For the Athletes Still Fighting
If you're in the middle of your own struggle, if you feel overlooked, underestimated, or ready to give up, I want you to hear this:
Your story isn't finished. The people who doubt you don't get to write the ending. Keep showing up. Keep working. Keep loving the game even when it's hard to feel that love.
You might not see the path forward right now. But it's there. And when you find it, everything you went through will be part of what makes reaching it so meaningful.
I'm proof that it's possible. And you can be too.
Bailey Zenk is an All-American softball player who holds records at her junior college for home runs, RBIs, and slugging percentage in a single season. She is currently continuing her collegiate softball career at the NCAA Division III level while pursuing a bachelor's degree in Clinical Psychology with a focus in child behaviorism.
