"Front and Center" - By Hannah Cady

Front and Center

That's where I always sat in the film room.

Not because anyone told me to. But because that’s where I wanted to be.

I've always loved softball, and then at Northwestern, I started to really study the game of softball.

Everybody watches film, and you kind of see most of the same things. But then I started to see more. Hey, this pitcher throws this pitch on this count. Or like, even when we were trying to pick pitches, you start to see they do this certain thing. This player gives us a clue. And what was unique is that our team was all doing this together. Like bouncing ideas off of people and then understanding the bigger picture of what the other team’s goals are and what they’re trying to do in the grand scheme of things. Like Indiana, we knew they just love to run and they’re just gonna keep running, they’re gonna try to take the extra base, and we were prepared for that and stopped it before it happened.

It wasn't enough for me to know what I was supposed to do, all the scenarios. I wanted to know what our pitcher was setting up. What the shortstop was seeing. What the hitter was trying to accomplish. I would ask, "What if this happened instead?" or "Why do we do it this way?"

I probably asked too many questions.

The funny thing is ... Northwestern never made me feel like I asked too many.

Someone would just pull up another clip.

Someone would explain the "why." Or ask me what I thought.

Looking back, I think that was my first glimpse of what championship culture really looks like.

We were really good, but championship teams aren’t built by talent alone.

We won a lot of games, but championship teams aren't born on game day.

They’re built in the film room. And they grow during conversations.

They start when everyone in the program is curious enough to keep learning and humble enough to know that none of us have all the answers on our own. We found the answers together.

That's what made Northwestern feel like my home before I ever realized it.

When I arrived on campus, I was one of only two freshmen.

It was the COVID year, so nothing about college was normal. But even going into the fall, I was like “Holy crap! Like, we’re together a lot." Like you’re with these people at least five hours every day. And that’s different, obviously, from any kind of team you’ve played with before. There really wasn't an option not to get to know one another.

Practice. Lifts. Meetings. Film. Training room. Meals. Travel.

At first, I wondered what it would be like being one of the youngest players on the team.

Would I have to earn my place before the team accepted me?

But the older players welcomed me from day one. There wasn't some big speech.

It was simply, "You're here now. You're one of us."

Looking back, I don't think they realized how much confidence that gave me.

They trusted me before I had earned it.

And that made me want to become someone worthy of that trust.

That's something I've realized about Northwestern: People believe in you first.

Then they challenge you to become the person they already see in you.

We won three straight Big Ten titles.

People always ask what made those Northwestern teams so successful. And the easy answer is to talk about championships.

The magic of the ASU Super Regionals my sophomore year. Standing at third base in the Women's College World Series. Historic wins over top rated teams.

We were so good. We never gave up.

But none of those things are the reason we won.

We won because we all filled the roles that needed to be filled. We all had our part.

I grew up being a catcher. I caught all through high school and even was a catcher coming into Northwestern. But at the end of my freshman year, Coach Kate asked me about third base.

I'd never played third base before. Maybe for like one inning in my entire life.

But that’s what the team needed. So I'm like, you know what? Screw it. Like I'm just gonna go take 10,000 ground balls at third base this summer, and we'll see how that plays out next year. And I think, you know, just accepting it and being like, this is what I’m going to do. And everyone else had that same kind of mentality going into 2022. I mean, obviously not in the same kind of scenario, but we all did what the team needed.

Some players threw every meaningful pitch.

Some made the diving plays.

Some hit the home runs.

Some came off the bench for that one at-bat that changes a game.

Every role mattered.

And when everyone believes that, something special happens.

You stop playing for yourself. And you start playing for the person next to you.

Our dugout was so loud, we were pretty ridiculous, because we genuinely loved watching each other succeed.

And I never once dreaded going to practice. Seriously. Not once.

Were there hard days? Absolutely.

Did conditioning hurt? It did.

But I never woke up wishing I didn't have to be there.

Because I wasn't just showing up for softball.

I was showing up for people I loved. My family. It was fun.

People still ask me about Arizona State and the Super Regional.

Of course I remember the home runs. Game one. Game three. They called me the Equalizer.

Those moments will stay with me forever.

But when I think about that weekend, I remember how calm we were. These were big games. The biggest. But nobody panicked. Nobody thought we were out of it.

And we all knew we could win.

We had spent months building that trust.

I remember looking at Danielle in the circle thinking she looked like she could throw another 200 pitches.

I remember Maeve saying little things, keeping me from getting stuck in my own head.

I remember Skyler running around centerfield like it was just another Tuesday.

That confidence spread. It became contagious.

But people still make the mistake of underestimating Northwestern all the time.

Maybe it’s because we’re a small school and weren't supposed to compete with the traditional softball powers.

Maybe it’s because people assumed you couldn't be elite academically and athletically.

And I'd be lying if I said we didn't love proving them wrong.

But the opinions outside our locker room never mattered. Sure we might send a tweet in the group chat just to get everyone fired up.

But we already knew who we were. And we knew that we could beat any team.

By my senior year, so many of our team’s leaders had graduated. We had won back-to-back Big Ten Championships. And people were already speculating that we wouldn’t be as good.

And suddenly it was my turn to help shape our culture.

I was never one to give dramatic speeches. My leadership was less loud.

But after one kind of rough practice, our motto became “Be Better."

It was kind of a joke at first, like, “This isn’t us, guys. We can be better.” But it stuck.

We were at Illinois my junior year for the Big Ten tournament. And we had some free time so we planned this walk around campus just to, like, get our legs moving. And we found this giant stick. More like a tree limb. Like 50 pounds. Huge.

We take it back to our bus and I have this bright idea. I’m like, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna make a flag with this thing. So I get a pillowcase and some ribbon and a Sharpie and I make this huge flag with the tree limb that says “Be Better.” It was kind of funny and I just started carrying it with the team everywhere. In the dugouts.

But then we won the Big Ten tournament again that year. So I’m like, well, now we have to take this with us no matter where we go.

And we did.

You don’t just choose Northwestern. It chooses you, if you’re lucky.

Years after I committed to Northwestern, Coach Caryl told me about the sticky note that was on her computer ever since our first meeting.

It had one word written on it.

Hannah.

She told me she looked at it every day because she wanted me to come to Northwestern.

I laughed when she told me that. But it meant more to me than the coaches probably realized. And I still think about it.

Because every recruit spends so much time wondering if they're making the right decision.

You're trying to choose a school.

You're wondering where you'll fit, where you’ll play.

Whether you'll belong.

What I didn't realize back then was that Northwestern was choosing me, too.

Not because I was perfect.

Not because they knew exactly what kind of player I'd become.

They chose me because they believed in who I already was.

A kid who loved the game.

A kid who was quiet. Would never give a big speech. But still a leader.

A kid who wanted to become a doctor someday.

A kid who cared about making the people around her better.

They never asked me to become someone else.

They just helped me become the best version of myself.

When I told the coaches I wanted to go to medical school someday, they didn't tell me to choose an easier path.

They figured out how to make it work.

They worked around my labs. My exams. Around everything that came with chasing another dream.

And today, as I'm in medical school, I realize just how much Northwestern prepared me. Not just for softball. Not just for big games. But for my whole life after it.

People ask me now if medical school is as hard as I thought it was going to be. And my answer is No. I was ready for it. I was ready because of Northwestern. Because of softball. Because of the coaches. And because of the person I am now.