The team is inspired by the shocking death of a Princeton softball player.
Khristin Kyllo accessorized her rainbow of bangles and Silly Bandz with two watches. One for style. One for practicality. She was never on time, even then. She was either half an hour early or ten minutes late. Whatever. She simply practiced longer or pushed herself harder to catch up. For her, it was never about the hours of practice that were necessary. It has to do with the present. the opportunity to engage in her favorite sport.
That child on the tee-ball team would have been Khristin. While the others picked grass in the outfield, he made every play from third base to first base. She was simply too energetic to be restricted to one role. Even shortstop wasn’t always enough for her. There was always more she wanted to do.
Khristin disregarded restrictions with an unmatched fervor. In her senior year of high school, she forced herself to move over the unanticipated seizures and concussions that happened in class. beyond the hospital stay of three weeks following yet another inexplicable seizure. In addition to losing a large portion of her short-term memory. Doctor after doctor who failed to provide answers to a lot of queries. Beyond the mountain of homework that accumulated as graduation day drew nearer. beyond one seizure followed by another. Past all inexplicable complications. All in order to eventually arrive at her ideal location: Princeton University’s Class of 1895 Softball Field.
We were her teammates, but we had no idea how dangerous and crippling Khristin’s disease was. The impact of that agonizing Thursday morning last month was heightened by this. She never even alluded to how challenging it was. She would be in the weight room that afternoon after having a seizure in the morning. She once lost her temper during a lecture on philosophy. After a day, she resumed her studies of philosophical theory and plowed through batting practice. She even experienced a mini-seizure while traveling home in a van from an away game during our fall season. Until she brought it up in the locker room, nobody was aware.
Reading past articles online has given us additional information about her health. Searching for “Khristin Kyllo” on Google to see what new stories or challenges the internet has to offer has become nearly obsessive. We do it in an effort to comprehend what transpired. in order to comprehend the inexplicable. To feel connected to her, we use the Internet. We look at old team photos as we browse Facebook. We looked at her goprincetontigers.com softball profile page. We gaze at her name on the roster of our team. We even alter our Facebook statuses in an attempt to communicate emotions we aren’t even sure how to articulate. We can’t think of anything else to do, even if it seems so trivial.
The hours are indistinguishable without her. The days are hazy. Her watches are necessary for us to know the time. to let us know when it’s time to go on and get on with our day, even if we seldom ever have the strength to part ways. Everything seems so… inconsequential, even if we should be studying for finals. We lounge around telling Khristin stories instead of studying. There are moments when we can genuinely chuckle. notwithstanding everything that took place. Khristin continues to make us chuckle despite her absence. Naturally, she wanted to sleep in her outfit. For seventy-two hours, bond with it. She even inquired as to whether she could use the athletic laundry facilities or wash it in her own building. “Just don’t lose it,” Coach Salcido said, acknowledging and appreciating her enthusiasm. Khristin then gave her an insane expression. She was never going to lose it. She desired to wear it indefinitely.
She will also always wear it. Khristin Kyllo, at eighteen, was laid to rest in her Princeton softball uniform on January 22, 2011. Size small, no. 2. Cleats and all. It still feels so surreal. As she warms up for weightlifting tomorrow morning, it seems as though we will see her unmatched socks with pastel and festive patterns once more. However, we won’t. Reminding each other of the socks and the eccentric girl who wore them is the best we can do.
We work together as a team. We are a we. However, it might be difficult to avoid feeling like a we minus one at times. It seems as though there is an endless emptiness. A small 5-foot-2 blonde girl is absent from the dining table. It was a squeaky voice that had never understood what “shy.” An unwavering leadoff hitter and a smooth-handed shortstop are absent from the uniform that hangs in the locker room. The harsh reminders of what might have been are these. Not what?
Leave a Reply