Mone Davis - Mone Davis: Remember My Name: My Story from First Pitch to Game Changer

To inner-city kids who need opportunities

MY NAME IS MONE DAVIS. SOME PEOPLE KNOW ME AS THE first girl to throw a shutout in the Little League Baseball World Series. I am only the fourth American girl and the eighteenth girl from anywhere in the entire world to ever get to participate. Other people know that I was the first Little Leaguer and the youngest athlete to be on the cover of Sports Illustrated magazine. I was named SportsKid of the Year by Sports Illustrated Kids, too. And still others know me as the girl who read Twas the Night Before Christmas with the First Lady of the United States.

My teammates, who Ive played with since I was seven, know more about me than almost anyone in the world. They know that I always try to make people feel good and cheer them up when theyre mad or upset. They know that I tell a lot of cheesy jokes. And even though Im a good athlete, sometimes Im goofy and clumsy. My catcher, Scott, still cracks up about the time that I walked into a pole.

Opposing batters? Well, they know that I throw a nasty curve, a seventy-miles-per-hour fastball, and that I bring new meaning to the saying You throw like a girl.

The summer of 2014, when I turned thirteen, I played in the Little League World Series and had the best time Ive ever had in my young life. Me and some of my teammates from my Philadelphia neighborhood baseball team, the Anderson Monarchs, also played on the Taney Dragons, our communitys Little League all-star team. The Dragons first won our district tournament, then the sectionals, then states, then the regional tournament, and then we achieved every Little League players dream: we went to the Little League World Series!

One hot August night that summer, I, Monea girl who loves Disney movies, is afraid of the dark, and keeps change in her baseball pants pocket for good luckstood on the pitchers mound in front of 34,950 people and five million people from around the world who were watching on TV.

Even with all those eyes on our team, I didnt freak out. I just tuned out the crowd (I couldnt even hear my mom, who yells super loud!), stared straight into Scotts eyes, and fired strike after strike into his glove. Pop!

I gave up two infield hits and threw eight strikeouts against South Nashville that night. The Taney Dragons had shut out the second team in a row.

The fact that I was so calm under pressure and struck out so many boys amazed a lot of adults. It made people see girls who play sports in a different light, and turned me into a role model overnight. All of a sudden people started to recognize me, want my autograph, and remember my name.

YOUVE REALLY GOT A NICE ARM THERE, THE MAN SAID TO ME.

I was kind of surprised that anyone had been watching me, and I didnt know the man, so I just said, Thanks, and looked away.

It was late October 2008, and I was playing catch with a football with my cousin Mark and some friends on the outfield at Marian Anderson, the neighborhood recreation center. Mark had just finished playing a baseball game and we were hanging out on the grass.

Its okay, Mo, Coach Steve is my coach, Mark said. Mark is two years older than me.

Im sorry, I didnt mean to scare you, the man said. Thats your name, Mo?

My name is Mone, I answered, catching the ball. I aimed at the top of the silver skyscraper pointing into the blue sky over the tops of the trees, and threw the football back to Mark.

Anderson was just a few blocks from my house, but the field, it was like my backyard. It is this green oasis the size of a city block. A fence, parked cars, and, across the street, three-story redbrick row homes run all around it.

Oh, Mo-NAY, he said, pronouncing my name carefully. Nice to meet you, Im Coach Steve.

Hi, I said. Coach Steves dark blue sweats had the word Monarchs in white across the chest. A yellow pencil balanced behind his ear. For a split second I wondered if it ever fell off.

How old are you?

Seven.

Youve got a really strong arm. Most boys your age cant throw as far as you can, he said. Im starting a Monarchs team for seven-year-olds. Its a boys team, but you can play if you want. Why dont you think about coming out to basketball practice?

Okay, I said, looking him in the eye for the first time. He looked kind. Lots of kids played for the Monarchs. And I liked basketball. A lot.

Then he took the pencil and wrote on a scrap of paper he pulled out of his pocket.

Will you give this to your mother and ask her to call me?

Okay. I smiled at him, and carefully put the paper in my front pocket.

Later on, after I rode my bike home, I uncrumpled the paper and handed it to my mom.

Whats this? she asked me. She was roasting a chicken, baking macaroni and cheese, and mashing sweet potatoesmy all-time favorite dinnerand the house smelled really good. My little brother, Maurice, who is four years younger than me, was watching cartoons on the couch.

This man wants you to call him, I told her.

Who is he? You shouldnt just be talking to strangers.

He isnt a stranger, hes Marks baseball coach, I said. He wants to invite me to play on a basketball team.

Oh, okay, Ill call him, she said as she sprinkled some cinnamon into the sweet potato pot. Yum!

I hoped my mom would pick up the phone while she cooked. But she didnt. She didnt pick it up then, or when she washed the dishes, or when we were watching TV later on that night.

Mom, you gotta call that man, I reminded her the next morning when I put on my uniform for school.

Okay, I will.

When I got home after school, I asked her again.

Did you call that man yet?

Not yet.

When are you going to call him?

Soon.

It turns out that my mom wasnt exactly thrilled about me playing what she saw as an aggressive sport. When I was a baby, she thought that I would become a girlie girlthe kind who would like dressing up, and getting her hair braided and curled, and playing with dolls. But I wasnt that girl. My mom says whenever she would buy me a doll, I would just look at her like she was crazy. Id rather run around with a football or basketball and try to keep up with my brother Quran, who is four years older than me.

I was a big Allen Iverson fan, says Quran. So I started playing basketball, and she saw me dribbling and found it attractive, and started doing the same thing.

People say I look just like Quran. You could say he is the boy version of me.

The next day, I tried with my mother again.

Mom, you gotta call that man.

All right, Mone, Im gonna call.

When I came home from school, she picked up the phone and started dialing Coach Steve.

My daughter, Mone, gave me a piece of paper with your name and number on it and said that you wanted me to call you, she said as she sat in a kitchen chair.

I leaned up against her so I could listen.

Oh, yeah, hi, my name is Steve Bandura. I coach the Anderson Monarchs. I was watching your daughter play football the other day.

Football! Mones playing football? My mother frowned. My mom, shes the kind of person who sometimes fusses a lot, but even when shes yelling, you can do something funny and make her laugh.

She was just throwing the ball around with her cousin Mark, who I coach on the Monarchs, and some of their friends, Coach Steve said.

Oh, okay. My mother relaxed.

Ive never seen anyone throw like that at her ageboy or girland Ive been coaching kids for a long time.

I didnt even know Mone could throw a football, she said, raising one eyebrow and giving me a side-eye.