Alex Sobczak is one of the top players from the Class of 2015 and it was announced on Monday that she will be one of 10 standouts attending the Louisville Slugger Hit Club from August 1-3 in Huntington Beach, Calif.

The Univ. of Michigan signee was a FloSoftball 1^st Team All-American and was honored as her state’s “Miss Softball.”

This summer she’s hitting .540 with a .760 on-base percentage for her Finesse club team coached by Donny Dreher who candidly says that Alex is the greatest player he’s ever coached.

But the relationship hasn’t always been smooth, he admits, and in this first person article he talks about the shaky start with his now-star player and how the two of them grew to understand and appreciate each other and develop a bonding relationship that the coach says he’ll soon miss…

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I met Alex when she was just a little girl, big smile with bright, beautiful blue eyes giggling for no reason.

But on the field she was scared and unsure of herself. Alex questioned her ability and lacked confidence. Many times she would cry when she didn’t perform well. She would tell me she is not very good—but she really was.

I brought her up to play with the older girls. I knew it would challenge her, but I also knew it would eventually make her a better player. In games, she often felt that she was not performing well enough.

Alex would hang her head after a mistake, forgetting that she had succeeded many times before. She had to be reassured constantly, but it never seemed to work. She listened respectfully, always did what she was asked, but, oh, did she worry!

A year later she seemed more confident. You could see a spark of maturity, and then she would giggle … reminding me she was still that little girl.

I benched her once during a game, and lectured her after the game and told her to find a new coach. She was upset and she wouldn’t talk to me for a day or two. It hurt me to do that, but I knew someday she would understand why… but, just not now.

Alex would still hang her head when she didn’t perform up to her expectations, even though she was assured that she had improved 100 percent. Sometimes she felt that she alone cost the team a victory.

There were times when Alex told her mom she thought of quitting.

Each season seemed to overlap the one before, and all of a sudden it was her last. I look at her now, a senior. Her skills have improved dramatically. She is not intimidated anymore, and she will never miss an opportunity to poke fun at me or what I’m wearing. Alex is comfortable around me, the shyness is gone and her face glows with confidence.

I intentionally pick on her in practice. I want her to set an example—to show the younger players how to take criticism. She grimaces when I continue to rip on her, but she uses her anger to play with more intensity. Later on, she will laugh with me or, more often, at me, but it will only be her way of telling me that she knows I care about her and I’m only trying to make the team better and her a better player.

I look at Alex now and feel proud. She doesn’t need my reassurances anymore. I struggled for years to help her gain confidence and now, suddenly, I miss her total dependence on me for a positive comment.

At camps I see her helping a younger player. She is patient. I hear her saying the same things I once said to her. The younger player is thrilled to have the senior and future college star helping her.

When she sees I am in pain or having a bad day, she will bring me cookies or energy bars. She often will text me or come over and talk to me, asking if I’m okay. She reassures me and lets me know that my efforts are appreciated.

I look hard for the “little girl” I once knew, but she is gone.

Instead, I find a confident young woman, thinking of others before herself. She doesn’t know that she has done more for me than I ever did for her. When the season is over, her life will just be beginning and the reality is I will seldom see her again.

I know I can look forward to a text now and then asking if she can hit with me, and that will make my day but I realize our special relationship will be gone.

For now, though, her last game with me is barely behind and I already miss her. I just get too attached. I really wonder whether it’s worth going through this kind of thing anymore.

Then someone introduces me to a new young player, and tells her I might be her coach next year. The little girl smiles, but doesn’t speak. I ask her if she is excited about playing. She tells me she is not very good—and giggles.

Maybe I’ll coach one more year…

–Donny Dreher