Deroc Stardford: A Short Story

In the spring of my seventh eighth grade year I decided to branch out and try a new sport. I signed up for our school’s softball team. A new coach was going to be taking on the difficult task of teaching the love of the game to a group of girls. The coach was going to be my English teacher. Mr. D taught the team to play softball well. He

Through my entire life I had been playing baseball. Baseball was the one thing that consumed my life. It was a job to me, not a passion. That was the first problem that resulted in a complete 360 in my life. When I started to play baseball, it was in a way satisfying and fun. It was something every little kid did over the weekend, as the family watched them sit on the ground pick flowers and play with the dust. Something so simple that made me feel so, existential. It gave me so much, it was great. As I began to realise the potential life this game could give me at around age 9, I began to become serious about baseball. I quickly began to feel like a superstar at the local Little League. “This is great!” I thought. Running circles around everyone, people would come to the field to see MaHall’s team play. As the years grew on, leading my teams to championship games years in a row, it would come crashing down. When I was 11, I was on the Dodgers, we were the best team in the league, and we knew it. Let’s go back in time for a bit. It’s the last inning and we are down by just one. Here I go up to bat with a man on first base. As I walk up to the plate I could hear the catcher say, “oh no.” He knew who I was, as everyone did. “I’ve hit many walk offs and clutch hits before, how was this different?” I remember thinking. Well past Jonnie, here’s how it’s different, it’s the championship game,

In between high season and travel ball season my dad has been trying to build up my confidence. Which back to the story in Alabama, something is tugging on my arm. It’s not going to well but I’m trying. New team, new coach, and new competition. Explosion are half way into the season, it’s July 16, 2016. The tournament was at Clearmont, IN. I get to the field and heard that we were playing the team that my friend from my high school team, Ellie Hulwager, a girl that is short with dirty blonde hair, with noticeable blue eyes. She plays for the Aftershock, a team that I tried out for that didn’t give me a second look, Ellie pitches for the team and also plays center field. It’s game time I get to the field, all the teams go out for the coin toss. Aftershock calls heads, it lands on heads, after conversation with the coach the player says,”We’ll take home.” The teams run back into their dugouts and we grab our helmets and bats. Looking at the lineup, I look for my spot, fourth. I sit on the bench and talk to my teammates, not paying attention to the game, I heard someone yell,”Katie, your up.” I shoot up and throw my gloves and helmet on and grab my black and red, thirty-three inch bat. I step in the batters box, I look around, bases loaded. I didn’t think anything of it. The pitcher isn’t Ellie, she winds up and the pitch comes, it’s low and out side, I hit the ball and I’m at a dead sprint to first. I looked at my

Ever since I was four, baseball constantly affected my life. When I was younger, I just played the sport because I always had energy and need to do something besides watch Spongebob. Before I knew it, I fell in love with the game. I nagged my dad to come to the park with me so we could practice. We would hit, run, play catch, and even watch baseball together. As I got older, my dad had become more serious when we practiced. He yelled nasty things if I didn’t perform at his expectations. I transferred to Mid Pacific as a new student, in the eighth grade, with no friends. The morning before the first day of school, I was excited. As I look at my sister drive off, I suddenly lost my confidence. The boy who was popular, likeable, funny, and even handsome had completely

Depending on the severity of the fighting and the swearing it may be necessary to refer the behaviour on to the Head teacher.

It’s a brisk fall morning, as I walk down the hill to the athletic center. The sun is just beginning to rise and there is dew on the cut grass. I am heading to a meeting with my coach, letting him know that I will be done playing collegiate baseball, my first love.

It was a very warm and tense place in the gymnasium of the Alpena High School. A group of freshman and sophomore baseball players were waiting for the words you wanted to hear which was “Congratulations” or the not so good news of “Sorry” from the coach deciding if you made the team. Personally, at the start of baseball tryouts I thought to myself it’s going to be a toss up to see if I would make the team having a 50/50 chance. I was nervous for the most part because there were an abundace of upperclassman also trying out for the team that were on it last year. There were twenty-seven people trying out for fifteen spots to play JV baseball.

A mistake, there must have been a mistake it's not real it can't be happening. I raised my head to look at one of my best friends shock on his face second only to mine. Coach apologized to those who hadn’t made the team and offered, if anyone wanted to know why they had been cut they could come speak to him and the assistant coach privately. What did I have to lose? So I went. It would have taken a real man to be able to look a coach in the face immediately after his dreams had been crushed, I am not embarrassed to admit that there were tears in my eyes as i conversed with the two of them. The news of being cut stung, but the reasons that followed pierced my soul; being told that with my skill level i should consider playing a different sport. Life stood still, i told them i would come back the next year and improve and prove myself to them; they had no idea that i had no intention on keeping this promise. Baseball was over, as i tried to gather up the last reserves of my pride i looked across the gym to my friends and lifted my hand in farewell but couldn't stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks. As I walked through the front door of my home i collapsed right in the doorway and finally felt safe enough to truly let my emotions show; I cried for a long time and only paused for a moment when my mother arrived home and looked at me expressing her sorrow through the way she looked at me. If I

Nothing beat the overwhelming emotion of stepping up on the pitcher’s mound and hearing the chant of my name, my heart clawing its way out of my chest. Before throwing the first warmup pitch, my mind raced through the entire season. How, as a team, we have made history winning all three major tournaments in the high school level. We had beaten many top competitors and lost plenty crushing defeats as well. My mind pondered, which situation will I be in today, glorious victory or destructive loss. This is the feeling I lived for during high school, it was my sole purpose. However, this was merely one minute of that fateful day in which I played prodigiously trying to win a baseball game.

The hooper redbirds were having the first game of the season. I wanted to sign up so bad but I wouldn’t do any good. It was at their first practice. I was watching them by the bleachers think that I want to be out there so bad. I kept thinking till I got interrupted by the team, they asked “why aren’t you playing Bryton?” I said “it would do your team any good for me to what, just sit on the bench and watch all of you guys play?” “No Bryton you would play everyone gets their chance” “I’ll think about it, okay?” “well you better not wait too long before the sign-ups end” “I won’t” “okay”

One day, I was walking to the New Jersey middle school with my best friend Alex Collins. We were super excited for baseball to start. It was coming up in a couple of days. “I can't wait for tryouts Alex” I said. “Yea, but I hope John Gordon doesn't tryout. He is so annoying.” When they got to school they saw the poster for baseball tryouts.

In total I had joined 6 baseball teams in my whole life (17 years). I don’t want this problem to ever happen again so I’m not planning on joining anymore teams for now, but I may join one during college. I still like baseball even after all these years. Baseball has always been a part of my life. It’s been something I’ve played, it's been something my grandfather has enjoyed, my aunt, and pretty much my whole family. But at the end of the day I think that it was one of the best decisions that I had ever made just because I have more time to do stuff and time to spend with my family members and friends from

It was a chilly Monday night as I finished putting on my baseball uniform. I was nervous because it was the championship game. We were playing our rival team, the Yankees. My close friend Tom was their pitcher, and he struck out a lot of people. Tonight, I was going to get a hit off of him. At least I hoped so. I heard a beep in the driveway and realized it was my mom who was ready to go. ¨ Coming Mom!¨ I shouted through the garage door. As I jogged to the car, I could not stop thinking about getting a hit off of Tom.

“There’s no crying in baseball.” That is something my dad always says to me. What made me think of that? Oh yeah, I have a baseball tournament this weekend! I couldn’t wait to smell the rubber glove, feel the speed of the pitcher, and feel the turf. I wanted to get back to see my teammates and my coaches. At 5:30 it was time to head to Lenz Field!

The varsity baseball team had just finished a long day of practicing base running, hitting and fielding. It was very hot out and the sun was making us even more tired. Sweat soaked my shirt and dripped off the brim of my hat. I had been up since 6:30, spent all day at school, and practiced baseball for 2 hours. I was so exhausted that I just wanted to go home, take a shower and go to bed. Then my coach called me over and said “Hey Kevin can you help me with the field?”, The last thing I wanted to do was stay after practice to hose down the field and fix the hole in the pitcher's mound.