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Head & Shoulders: former McCracken star moves forward after softball

February 27, 2021
After hitting .294 with a .438 on-base percentage for the Murray State Racers in the spring of 2020, former McCracken County star Abby Shoulders was on pace to become one of the more consistent hitters in her final three years with the program. Instead, she made a tough choice.
Photo Courtesy: MURRAY STATE ATHLETICS

She was supposed to be happy. This was it.
Because in the spring of 2020, former McCracken County star softballer Abby Shoulders — after a 17-year grind — had finally become a consistent Division I starter as a sophomore, suiting up for longtime coach Kara Amundson and the home-team Murray State Racers.
A decade of travel ball had finally reaped benefits. Those long summers with no reprieve from ruthless pedigree and competition had mattered. All the hitting cages, practice swings and fielding drills were suddenly the base of a powerful personal pyramid.

In this tempestuous grind, Shoulders started nearly 1,000 innings for a Lady Mustangs team with annual KHSAA championship-or-bust expectations. It’s an enviable spot from the outside, but a crucible of emotion and expectation within it.
Her two loving parents, Jim and Julie, have long been ensconced in the west Kentucky softball world as coaches and mentors, with dad in the dugout at McCracken County, and mom always there after every game. That only changed slightly when Shoulders committed and went to MSU, as the family attended every Racer game they could in between their own obligations.
And there’s a little sister, too, in Ellie, who’s not-so-little anymore…trying to follow in big sister’s footsteps to be the next big thing for coach Tony Hayden and McCracken County.
It’s an incredible amount of pressure to perform, honestly, no matter its intent.
But after starting 21-of-22 games in a pandemic-shortened 2020 spring — in which Shoulders hit .294 with a .438 on-base percentage, good for second-best on the team — the 5-foot-3 longtime outfielder still wasn’t happy.
And, truth be told, hadn’t been for quite some time.
“Not a lot of people know this, but my senior year of high school, I kind of had some thoughts like: ‘Man, I don’t really know if this is what I want to do. I don’t really know if I want to continue to play softball,’” Shoulders said. “But I knew, in the back of my head: ‘You’re going to regret this if you don’t give it the opportunity and the chance.’ It’ll be something like: ‘Man, I wonder what that could’ve been like?’
“And so I thought, ‘Let’s just give it a year. Give it a year, and see how it goes. And then you can make your decision after that. You’re not letting anyone down. You’re not quitting. You’re just deciding on a different path, and you’re going to go separate ways with it.’
“And there’s nothing wrong with that.”


Freshman year of college typically goes one of two ways, and can aptly be surmised by Charles Dickens and his most famous quote from A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
Unfortunately for Shoulders, it was the latter. And all of the little things that could go wrong, did.
Being in a dorm room was, admittedly, a “weird dynamic” for her, but that was the least of concerns. An undisclosed illness — one she still isn’t sure what was — sapped energy and emotion. All she and her family knew was something physically and mentally wasn’t right, and she took this into fall ball with Amundson and the Racers.
As if change wasn’t coming fast enough for Shoulders, college softball requires college discipline and skill to keep a scholarship. There’s a different level of dedication just to cut it. And while everything she knew from high school and travel softball came with a kernel of truth, Shoulders had to get better.
Faster.
“With softball, everything I thought I knew really wasn’t the case,” Shoulders said. “They were changing some mechanics and different things. And I would say I was just overall uncomfortable, which I think everyone goes through to some degree when they enter their first year of college; whether it’s going to college or playing a sport.
“It was a huge growth period for me, and looking back now, I’m so grateful for that time. That was so hard, but I’m so thankful.”
In the spring of 2019, Shoulders would eventually push into the starting lineup as the Racers’ DP (designated player), and in 30 games (21 starts), she’d hit .236 with a .313 on-base percentage for an MSU squad that went 26-27 overall and 16-6 in the Ohio Valley Conference.
It was a starting point, at least, but still not where she wanted to be.
“I wasn’t really happy after the end of that year, but I hate to say ‘I didn’t really know what else I would do,’” Shoulders said. “But this is just what I do. And I loved the people. And it wasn’t the hard work or anything that was deterring me from playing. But it was that little pit in your stomach that’s like: ‘I just don’t really know if this is right.’
“But I decided to keep going because I loved the people. They are still some of my best friends today. I just loved being there. And then I thought, ‘If I can just start and play all the time, I’ll be happy. That’s what I’m looking for. That’s what’s going on.’”


Former Murray State softballer Abby Shoulders gives the “shoes up” sign and smiles at third base, in a game at Racer Field in Murray, Kentucky.
Photo Courtesy: MURRAY STATE ATHLETICS

Except, it wasn’t.
Starting for the Racers in 2020…being the sure-fire, go-to, get-on-base gal for Amundson, her team, her friends…wasn’t fulfilling. At least, not as fulfilling as Shoulders thought it would be.
So when COVID-19 brought a full-stop to a life she’d known for nearly two decades, she gave herself a break and re-evaluated life.

I started. I did everything that I thought would make me happy. And I’m still not happy. What is going on? You’ve been playing softball for a long time. And the longest break you’ve ever given yourself is a month off in 17 years. It’s like a blessing in disguise. Why don’t you give yourself a two-month break? You’ll still have time to get in shape, and just see if your mind and body needs a break?
“Because that kind of made sense to me.”

Abby Shoulders, an internal dialogue

Needing a little summer cash — and with hiring at an all-time low in west Kentucky due to the pandemic — Shoulders turned to what she knew best for work:
Hitting. Teaching it.
There was no way, after 17 years, she was going to leave her love of the diamond in the dust, and a spring bereft of high school softball served as a serious setback for those seeking sharpened skills.
So, Shoulders filled the gap with lessons…mostly younger kids and her sister, Ellie, at first, but McCracken County’s Addley Leidecker — as well as Calloway County’s Emerson Grogan and Adison Hicks — soon became part of the swatting mix.
And suddenly, her heart was filling again.
“I just started loving it,” Shoulders said. “I loved the ‘light-bulb’ moments that the kids would have, and the questions they’d ask, and the way they would get excited and would say ‘Ms. Abby, I understand what you’re talking about when I did this,’ or, ‘I did so good at my tournament this weekend.’ And I would be the first person that they wanted to tell about their success, or even about just the things that would happen in their life. They wanted to tell me.
“And I started questioning my major, and I wondered: ‘Maybe my calling is to teach.’ Because I love to teach. I’m patient. Maybe I can do that.”


Shoulders

By the fall of 2020, Shoulders had changed her major to elementary education. And just as she promised, she returned to the Racers for the start of her junior season. Refreshed. Ready.
It didn’t last.
So, after holding it in for so long…after truly giving it the “ol’ college try”…Shoulders called Amundson and her longtime assistant in Ashley Gilland.
They deserved to hear this news from her first.
“It’s just not fair to someone else, who’s working hard like I am, who wants to be on the field…for me to be there, when I have these feelings in the back of my mind where I don’t know if this makes me happy,” Shoulders told her coaches. “I can’t do that to my teammates, because we all work too hard.”
And with that — after thousands of swings, thousands of innings — she walked away from playing the only game she’s known.
And on her own terms.
“It definitely was one of the hardest decisions that I’ve ever had to make in my life,” Shoulders admitted. “Because for so many years, softball was my love and my passion. And I think it was killing me that it had turned into work a little bit. And I never thought that would happen.
“My parents have always said that when your passion turns into work, you need to stop doing it. Because it’s something that’s supposed to make you happy. The second it starts making you unhappy, you need to stop. And that was such a difficult decision for me.”
Perhaps more difficult than leaving the team, however, were the possible repercussions. The perception of being a quitter. The potential anger from a staff and team that had invested so much time in her development. The promise of signing a dotted line, only to eventually break it.
These are very real emotions feel when on the fringe of tough choices.
And with one group text message to the Racers, Amundson assuaged any anxiety in the matter.

She was a huge part of our Racer family, and she made us better. She was one of the hardest workers on the team, and we're truly going to miss her. But we want the very best for her. 

It’s not something Amundson had to do. College athletics — despite shaping the leaders of today and tomorrow — is a business. Winning, losing and the recruitment of players in between can be the difference between a championship and the chopping block for faculty and staff, and players leaving isn’t often up for deliberate discussion. It’s next man — or in this case, woman — up, with emotions often put to the side.
This was different.
“And that meant a lot to me,” Shoulders said. “Because I was afraid (I was) going to make them mad. They’re going to be upset with me for — I wouldn’t call it quitting — but yeah, it is. I quit softball, but it was more ‘step away.’ To me, quitting is more mid-season or something like that. But I had these fears where they’d be super upset with me, and it couldn’t’ve been more opposite…and I’m so thankful for that.”
In fact, it was “Gill” who sent Hicks her way for hitting lessons, and Amundson’s personal words from the ultimate phone call still stick with Shoulders today.
“At the end of the day, I want you to be happy,” Shoulders remembers. “But I want you to know how much you mean to the program, and how much we’re going to miss you.”


A year ago, Shoulders was on those long bus rides with the Racers — sharing stories, making friends, preparing for games.
Of course she misses it, the camaraderie and friendship.
But there’s a new challenge in front of her now. One she didn’t know was coming, but perhaps was always there lingering.
On Aug. 14, 2020, Shoulders was officially named the director of the Paducah Lady Storm — a group of stout travel teams comprised of 8U, 10U, 12U and 14U local and regional talent.
She’s not a full-time softball coach just yet, but it’s the next big step on a possible path for it…as she now helps oversee the inner-workings with one of west Kentucky’s year-round softball organizations.
“I’ve always loved coaching, and that’s always kind of the mindset I had,” Shoulders said. “Even when I played, I was always like: ‘This would’ve been a better strategy.’ ‘I should’ve done this.’ ‘This is how the other team is being coached.’ Things like that, kind of from a coach’s mentality. And I guess I kind of always thought I would end up that way, because softball has always been such a huge part of my life. I don’t think I could ever put it down completely.
“And this just happened to match perfectly what I was looking for right now.”

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