Ashley Stephenson Is the Face, Voice and Heart of Women's Baseball in Canada

After spending more than a decade slugging it out on the diamond, hitting curveballs and taking hard slides at the hot corner, Ashley Stephenson still gets asked the same question whenever she tells someone she's a baseball player.

"Do you mean softball?" is the inevitable query.

"No, baseball," she'll reply.

"So, overhand?" they'll ask for clarity, out of ignorance rather than malice.

That's the moment Stephenson, a 10-year veteran of Canada's national women's baseball team, politely chokes back a retort and switches gears from the fiery ballplayer known to some as the Brett Lawrie of women's baseball, to patient school teacher. It's a natural transition.

"I'd rather people ask and realize that we actually have a national baseball team than just assume I'm a softball player," says Stephenson, high school teacher and physical education department head by day, de facto face of women's baseball in Canada by night.

"I think most people aren't aware and so you don't get mad, but try to educate."

Stephenson, 32, has grown along with the sport since the program's inception in 2004. She's viewed as the elder stateswoman, or the "granny" of Canada's national team by teammates young enough to be her students.

"When are you retiring?" they often ask.

She might've already had women's baseball not been among the featured sports at the 2015 Pan Am Games in Toronto this July. It'll mark the first time the sport has been included at a major international sporting event, a milestone worthy enough to prevent Stephenson from hanging up her spikes.

Having won a silver medal and three bronzes at the Women's Baseball World Cup, a Pan Am gold would serve as a perfect crescendo on which to end a career that has hurdled obstacles of varying degree and frequency for more than a decade.

As one of only two members left from that original 2004 squad along with Kate Psota, Stephenson and her peers were on their own when they broke onto the scene. No one had come before them and they weren't entirely aware of the challenges ahead.

A decade in, the grind isn't any easier for the veterans. Some players juggle careers that pay the bills but afford them time to train and compete, while others are university students with commitments to the class and other sports. It's a balancing act not fully appreciated by your average sports fan.

Then there's the oft-heard 'softball' question, along with further misinformation they have to dispel about their sport. Consider that one an exercise in patience.

But what really irks Stephenson is when she and her teammates have to deal with verbal taunts from male opponents. The occasional barb she can handle, but it sporadically gets taken a step too far.

A male opponent once wrote his phone number on a baseball and flipped it to a girl on Stephenson's team, thinking it was flattering. Others have made comments on the club's physical appearance, and sometimes assert that because Stephenson and her teammates are women, they're less of a baseball team.

"It's disrespectful," says Stephenson. "I want you to treat me like a ballplayer, not check out my ass in my ball pants."

One of those rare run-ins occurred during Team Canada's selection camp last month, when a split squad lined up against a midget boys team. The boys were jawing from the opening pitch and the intense Stephenson wasn't handling the insults well.

The opposing team, though losing 6-0, was still running its collective mouth, taking big leads and encouraging teammates to lean into pitches because "it won't hurt." But the worst transgression was an unabashed attempt at stealing third base with two outs, a faux pas according to baseball code.

Tempted to engage, Stephenson came up against the same dilemma she always confronts in these types of situations: Engage in verbal jabs and give the other side the rise they're looking for, or remain silent and risk passing off their behavior as acceptable?

Stephenson tried a little of both. When the offending baserunner attempted to swipe third, she took the throw at the bag and laid down a stern tag, accompanied by some choice words.

She said her response was partly about pride and partly about looking out for the younger women of Team Canada, some of whom are as young as 17 years old.

By the time they've reached the age of 32, Stephenson hopes they won't have to suffer that kind of behavior. She hopes they won't be dogged by comparisons to softball or have to repeatedly assure people that, yes, they throw overhand and hit curveballs. And, yes, they are baseball players.