Is there anything sadder than watching an amateur athlete end their career?
In the week that I spent at the Women's College World Series, I saw more tears than smiles, more hugs than home runs and more endings than beginnings.
For every new star - see UF slugger Francesca Enea - there were a handful of seniors forced to say goodbye to their collegiate careers.
The list of athletes who broke down in tears during postgame press conferences read like a Who's Who of College Softball.
Arizona's Taryne Mowatt and Virgina Tech's Angela Tincher, just to name a few.
Or maybe you saw UF's Mary Ratliff shed a few tears on the field after losing to Texas A&M.
Unlike their counterparts playing football, basketball or even baseball for that matter, there's no multi-million dollar payday around the corner.
No shoe contract.
No next level.
When it's over, it's just over.
Can you imagine how hard that must be on these athletes?
One day you're competing at the absolute pinnacle of a sport that you have spent your entire life training for, and the next you're just another twenty-something college student.
No more practice.
No more hanging out in the locker room with your teammates.
No more gameday.
Something that you have defined yourself by your entire life is just taken away.
How many of you teared up during your last high school game?
How many of you struggled with the fact that you were no longer an athlete afterward?
Now imagine what it would be like if you spent the next four years of your life competing at the highest level.
Tincher, the NCAA Player of the Year, struck out 19 batters in the Hokies 2-0 loss to the Gators - I hope you realize how ridiculous that is.
But Tincher, hands down the nation's best player, won't be a first-round draft pick.
She won't be waiting to see how big her signing bonus is or buying her parents a new house.
Tincher will be a graduate assistant for the Hokies next season.
These athletes put just as much blood, sweat and tears into their sport as the ones you see every night on SportsCenter.
And for what?
So that maybe, just maybe, they can matter for one weekend a year.
No, they play because they love the game, and, no matter how cliché that may sound, it's true.
Isn't that something that should be admired?
