Coming back to Omaha didn’t feel like starting over. It felt like coming home to a team I already knew in my bones.
And early in the season, I got a moment that made it real, fast. A late at-bat, two outs, the kind of situation you grow up dreaming about. And also kind of dreading because you know everyone’s watching.
I remember trying to keep my mind as empty as possible. I don’t like going up there guessing. Guessing feels like a trap. If I’m thinking, It’s definitely this pitch, it usually ends up being the other one. So I try to step in with almost nothing in my head, see it, react, and trust what I’ve built.
I even went down in the count 0–2, which is pretty normal for me. But I didn’t panic. I knew I could hit anything in the zone, whatever speed she threw me.
When that hit came through, it was about so much more than one swing. We were trying to go undefeated on the weekend. We did.
And for me, the moment spoke at full volume: I’m home. I’m in the right place. I can help this team win.
Coming Home to My People
If you ask me what defines Omaha so far, it’s not one at-bat. It’s the people. Literally half of the girls on this roster I’ve played with since 10U. That’s not something you can manufacture.
That’s years of bus rides, tournaments, bad hotels, big wins, tough losses, and growing up together.
It feels full circle in the best way. I started my club career with these girls, and now I’m basically ending my college career with the same team. I always told myself, If I could play another game with Maddia Groff, I would.
Then the transfer portal happened, and as soon as my name hit it, she called me immediately: “Dude, you have to come to Omaha. This has to happen.”
I already knew I wanted to come home when I entered the portal. But hearing it from someone who’s known me forever made it click. And then after talking to Coach Heard and getting a feel for how things run here, Omaha felt like the place I could finish my career. And doing it the right way: playing in the infield, chasing postseason dreams, and having a fun last year.
Being home is also a daily advantage. Me and my dad hit almost every day when I’m here. At Wichita, that wasn’t possible. Now I can see him, work with him, slow the game down, and get back into the routine that made me who I am. My family can show up. My community can show up. That support system matters so much to me.
Leading in a New Way
I grew up at shortstop. That was home for me on the field too.
College was the first time I ever played outfield. Right field at Wichita my freshman year and some of my sophomore year. Then injuries hit. Our shortstop and backup went down and Coach Bredbenner asked who wanted to step in. I raised my hand.
At first it felt new again, but also familiar, like your hands remembering something your brain hasn’t done in a while. Somehow it turned into one of the coolest surprises of my career: I ended up making all-conference at shortstop.
That’s something I always imagined for myself. I always pictured myself as a college shortstop. And there I was.
Coming to Omaha, I knew the left side was open with seniors graduating. I didn’t show up demanding anything, I just knew I wanted to play infield again and I was ready to compete for it. Once I got the chance, it felt like my career was ending where it started.
Shortstop is different leadership-wise. You’re in the middle of everything. As a transfer, you’re also learning how a new team communicates. Cuts, coverage, all of it.
Katherine Johnson, our second baseman, has been huge for me on the technical side. My role has been more about voice and presence: confidence for our pitchers, steadiness for our infield, being someone who’s going to make a play and bring energy no matter what.
I don’t have to be the loudest person on the field. I just want to be reliable.
My Hitting Identity
I’ve always seen myself as a hitter. That’s the part of the game I love most.
When I transferred, one thing I wanted to carry with me was my approach at the plate and the confidence I built at Wichita facing high-level arms.
But the biggest mental shift came from a book: The Inner Game of Tennis. I got pointed toward it through a club connection and it honestly felt like a revelation.
On my batting gloves, I’ve written “Flow State” and “Self 2 Over Self 1” — both straight from the book. The idea of letting your non-judgmental self do what it knows how to do, instead of your judgmental self hijacking everything with critique and fear.
When I’m locked in, the world goes quiet. Sometimes I picture it like I’m back home, hitting soft toss with my dad, just slowing the game down. Because the game speeds up fast (especially in big moments), I’m at my best when my mind is silent.
I try not to label at-bats as “good” or “bad.” I try to observe. Learn. Move on.
The team is always bigger than my stat line.
Beyond Softball
Off the field, I’m building the next chapter.
I’m a business finance major at UNO, planning to stay for grad school to get my MBA with a focus in business analytics. This summer I’m starting an internship with Union Pacific, and I’m curious to see who I become in that environment.
But in a weird way, softball already teaches you how to work. Time management. Discipline. Showing up when you’re tired. I want to bring those same traits into what comes next.
I also care about women’s sports deeply. Back in high school, I was part of a Title IX effort with my family and two other girls to push for a proper softball field. It came with ups and downs, but I’m proud of it.
Investing in women’s sports matters. I’m proud to have used my voice when it counted.
As for softball after this? I’m satisfied. I’ll stay connected by watching, probably giving hitting lessons, maybe playing some slow pitch. Once you love the game, you don’t really stop.
If I finish this season the right way, it won’t be because of a number on a stat sheet. I’ll feel proud if I have a really fun year by staying grateful, appreciating each day, and getting to do it here.
At home, with the same competitors who’ve been in my life since the very beginning.