Baseball Autobiography

I have loved baseball for years, but by the time I was a freshman at Laurel High School, I had precious little experience. The chances of me playing baseball in most high schools were slim, but this was Laurel. America’s favorite pastime was treated there as a vestige of years long forgotten. The athletic director ignored us, the students didn’t support us, and the school funded us just enough to say that they had a baseball program. Tucked away in a forgotten corner of the campus in the gloomy shadows of the tower from which football games were announced, the baseball diamond was the school’s disgrace. The dugouts were dismal cinder block bunkers with peeling paint and a propensity to flood. Grass was scarce where it was supposed to be and

“Every strike brings me closer to the next home run”(Babe Ruth). I was wondering how much baseball really affected my life and the choices I make. The answer is a lot, and it still continues to leave a mark on this life I love. Over the many years of my involvement in the game I have learned that life is full of ups and downs. Baseball teaches people to bounce back from negatives, this I believe.

Ever since I could remember, I have always had a great interest and love for the game of baseball. As a kid, I would spend countless hours in the backyard with my grandfather, or even by myself, tossing, hitting and fielding a baseball. When I wasn't in the yard pretending to be Nomar Garciaparra I would watch the Boston Red Sox games on TV with my Grandfather.  Even in my early adolescence, as impatient as most are, I had the patience to sit there and watch the Sox.With my eyes glued to the screen with a look of anticipation fixed on my face ready to mimic my grandfather with the excitement of a home run hit or the frustration of Mo-Vaughn striking out. Call me crazy, but I was addicted, even as a young boy, to Boston Red Sox baseball.

The life of a young baseball player is a very enjoyable one. Baseball has always been my favorite sport, it requires the highest amount of concentration and mental strength. Physical strength is also required to be able to hit and throw the ball; these are all skills required that apparently my freshman year of highschool I did not posses. I had always believed that I had the necessary skills to play baseball and play it well. However, tryouts my freshman year proved me wrong.

As soon as I made my very first varsity baseball appearance, I knew that I had to be the very best I could be or there was never going to be a chance of ever putting on that white and maroon crisp cleaned dri-fit Russel number 18 jersey. My heart was beating beyond faster than it should be at my first at bat because I had always heard “Just wait you haven't seen nothing yet, wait till you face them varsity pitchers.” Players older than me had constantly been saying that throughout my freshman season and it kept repeating over and over in my head like a broken record. Although I had studied the pitcher and had seen with my very own eyes, he wasn’t as good as everyone talked him up to be. I was still overawed and very nervous about messing up.

I step up to the plate. The hot lights of the Mets stadium hit my face. Clayton Kershaw was pitching. He is the best pitcher in the MLB. The pitch comes. It was a slow hanging curveball right over the middle. I swing will all my might. I hear the crack of the bat and I see the ball fly over the fence. I trot around the bases and I am approaching home plate. I step on home then I wake up.

Clouds mugged the sun of light as the day progressed. Dusk filled the air on the baseball diamond where I would leave my legacy. Forth, was the championship game to be played, and the pressure of the starting pitcher, was not fazing me. In the zone, we said the Little League pledge. Jolts of excitement filled my muscles as I recited the piece that I know all too well. Warming up, I was controlled, and was ready to bring it. The game began with a bang. Strikeout after strikeout I fired, giving my all every single pitch. ‘BOOM’ went the glove after every pitch, whizzed right by the petrified batter. However, this was not much different for our team. Just two hits filled the board, I and my teammate Ian Keth. Scoring off of this was efficient,

It was the last games of the baseball season. We had are worse pitcher pitching for our team. And they had an ok pitcher pitching. We got to the semi finals and our coach was going nuts. I was in the locker room getting ready for the game and my teammates Austin and Tevan were right next to me also getting ready they were one of the best players on the team.

I love the smell of fresh cut grass on a beautiful baseball field. The look of it is amazing, but the smell brings back so many past memories. All through my life I've played baseball for travel teams and such. Playing on the best fields in the nation, and the fields always getting looked after. So whenever I step on a Baseball field now, I'm taken back to my times as a kid playing baseball with my friends over the summer going to all types of places.

I could feel the pitcher’s stress from 200 feet away in the dugout. We were up five at the top of the eighth, but the win was not secure. I could tell the pitcher was struggling to keep his composure. Suddenly, the coach calls me to warm up in the bullpen. I was excited and nervous to enter the game; I knew my warming up would add pressure to the pitcher and this was the Legion Sub-State Semifinal game, which determined our chance to advance to state. By the time I got to the mound, the bases were loaded with two outs. I noticed the packed stadium, felt the sweltering 90 degrees, and sensed the crowd’s tension. I had never pitched against this team, so I relied on communicating with the catcher. I threw a knee high fastball--STRIKE ONE. Next, I threw low and away curveball--STRIKE TWO. The catcher signaled a high fastball, knowing the batter was expecting another curveball. The batter chased the ball--STRIKE THREE. We won the game and moved on to finals. Two hours in the dug out, five minutes in the bullpen, and thirty seconds on the mound--not to mention fifteen hours a week, ten months a year for fifteen years--all culminated in a few seconds to advance

When my coach put me in the game I looked at him and said are you sure you want me to do this coach he said yes get out here and play and have a good time while you’re out there. I ran out to left field and I had that feeling like please don’t hit the ball to me but that didn’t happen the next pitch the ball came straight out to left field and I made this play that I was really proud of myself for it was a huge part of my life to be able to go out there and making plays and not letting my team down and having are team play like a teams it was just a great time.

How to increase the velocity of your pitches like I was being forced to watch them or I would die. Baseball helped me to focus on my grades, so getting into the right college would be a dream come true. So forth baseball showed me that there’s a community that makes a baseball to be a succeed and that it takes a great leader and great followers to have a well oiled baseball team. This sport makes me think about how everything is going to play out and try to combat the errors, mishaps to win the game. Baseball started to show me that I could be a good

I always consider myself to play Major League baseball; as I grew up; I realized that I would need a backup plan. By the seventh grade I noticed that I liked to do hands on activities and problem solve difficult tasks. I displayed all the interests of an electrical engineer. I believe that the interest really may have started at an even younger age. My father has been a maintenance technician for almost 25 years. In say that, I enjoyed watching my dad fix things which sparked my interest in fixing things, or at least look into the engineering field.

My sport would probably be baseball,even though basketball is a very fun sport. I find baseball to be more of a passion than a hobby. Truly I want to make baseball my place or form of employment, because it makes me feel like even though growing up and maturing I can still go out onto the field, and feel like a young child again.

From the time I was able to walk I wanted to be a professional baseball player. I always fantasized it being game seven of the world series, with my team down three runs, the bases loaded with two outs, and I was up to bat. Of course every single time I fantasized about this, which was a lot I might add, I knocked a 400 foot home run in the left field bleachers to win the world series. I played in numerous amounts of wiffle ball games with my brother, sister, and my dad in backyard even when I was only two years old and would run the bases backwards. By the way, my family is super competitive, so there were some intense games in my backyard. Baseball has been my love since day one. The word “ball” was even my first word. I have played in probably a billion baseball games in my life and I have not regretted one second of it. I have had an amazing career playing and I am truly blessed for the ability I have been given, but I know I will never actually be able to