Over the past few years, certain seasons have come to mean so much. Not because of blooming flowers or falling leaves—this is South Florida and the weather doesn't change much here. It's the season of softball that's budding into life, and I've got my camera ready to capture it. 

A player has just caught a line drive at the pitcher's mound to make a critical out.  The very shallow depth-of-field brings the action into focus: worn-in and dusty black jersey, protective facemask, neon yellow ball firm in glove. Her fluid body position moves dynamically across the green of the blurred outfield.

Yet there's more to the story.  The captured moment displays unmistakeable proof of something this player's been working on for several seasons; it's a pinnacle moment in time that's been built upon relentless effort: DAYS & NIGHTS OF PRACTICE.  Hitting drills, running drills, throwing drills and catching drills...getting drilled—by the ball—in the arm, thigh or hand.  Intense heat and rain.  The perseverance to convince her parents that they should integrate the practice field into their daily commute. 

Through the lens I learn for the first time that blood, sweat and tears is downright literal, a precursor to the metaphor. 

Take a look at the dugout on game day. Sweet childish beauty reflects from their batting helmets and eye black. Their moms did their hair for this. Behind that fence, before those smiles, there were countless missteps and character-building moments featuring bruises, ice packs and band-aids; the choice to share each other's beloved bats; warm-ups (air squats!) and dancing to stay loose; older siblings stepping up as dugout managers; top-of-the-lungs cheering; disappointment and loss; perhaps some jealousy for the girls who had to share playing time; and tears over everything and all of the above.

Through the lens I saw all of this.

Many times I've stood with my lens locked on the intense body language of a batter 40 yards away, predatory in her stance, preparing to strike (but not strikeout). My finger hovering over the shutter in anticipation of that single moment when the neon fireball finally makes impact and explodes.

Tick, tick, BOOM.

Anything can happen.  A bad call, a strikeout, or three outs and a change of inning. For many circumstances, they are learning how to be ready. Running the bases or fielding them.  Offense and defense. 

Best of all, through the lens, I saw so much of what the girls see in themselves. And the resulting testimony exudes a boundless hope for their future. Our girls are fierce competitors who want to play, and play to win, fearless in the face of a challenge. Just eight years old and they are going up to bat for their own personal right to contribute to the team, to be the best teammate, to lead their squad to victory, to showcase their honed talent, to show up and take action against the enemy, come rain or come shine. 

Needless to say, photographing these girls and this sport has turned out to be more than a portfolio photo project. It has been a peek into the authentic grandeur of our future leaders. They are being tried and proving true.  Hopefully in the end, they're just well-adjusted, prepared and happy.  Winning is optional, but welcome :)