The Quote That Grew With Me

My favorite quote has always been:

"Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game."

A lot of people automatically know it as one of Babe Ruth's famous quotes. The Great Bambino.

Sadly, I can't say I knew that growing up.

I knew it because of A Cinderella Story. (If you know, you know.)

My husband, on the other hand, grew up watching and playing baseball religiously. He can probably tell you every stat, every player, and every random piece of baseball trivia you've never once wondered about. He'll probably cringe when he reads this realizing that I heard this quote from a teen rom-com…but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

The point is, it’s always stuck with me because of how true it is.

Back then, I understood it one way.

Now, after years of coaching little league and softball alongside my husband and spending more nights at the ball field than I can count, I’ve watched kids stand frozen in the batter’s box because they were so afraid of striking out. I’ve watched tears after a third strike, and I’ve also watched those same kids come back the next inning like nothing happened.

When we tell our kids, "Don't let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game," they take it literally.

Swing the bat.
Run hard.
Don't be afraid to miss, because you’re going to get plenty of chances.

After all, even the best players strike out.

But as parents and coaches, we don’t remember the strikeouts really. We remember the kid who kept getting back up. We remember the confidence that slowly replaced the fear. We grow up and realize the quote was never really about baseball. It’s about the strength and the courage it takes to get back out there even when it’s hard.

In some ways, I think that’s why it’s so easy and straightforward for a kid to take it so literally and not put too much thought behind it.

When you’re young, all you have to lose is simply striking out. When you’re an adult, there’s so much more on the line than just stepping out of the dugout and ultimately getting back in the safety of your parents’ car and riding home with a team snack, a home cooked meal, and cozy bed whether you won or lost the game.

When you’re an adult, the strikeouts look different. They might be a job you didn’t get, a business idea that didn’t work out, a relationship that ended, or a risk you took that didn’t pay off. The consequences are often bigger than they were when you were eight years old.

I also think something else changes.

We stop seeing strikeouts as something that happened and start seeing them as something that defines us.

I played softball and I don’t remember a single strikeout from when I was a kid. I don’t even remember most of the games. What I do remember is wanting another chance. Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, we start believing one missed opportunity says something permanent about who we are. A rejection becomes “I’m not qualified.” A failed idea becomes “I’m not cut out for this.” A conversation that doesn’t go well becomes “I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.”

We stop treating strikeouts like moments and start treating them as identities.

I used to think this quote was about baseball. Then I thought it was about courage. Now I think it's about giving yourself permission to keep trying, even after life gives you every reason not to.

Every season, we tell our players not to be afraid of striking out because that's how you learn the game.

Maybe we need that reminder just as much as they do.

I don't think I've carried this quote with me for the last twenty years by accident. I think every season of life has simply given it a new meaning.