Descriptive Essay: Dropping A Ball

Imagine standing on a softball field expected to perform at the age of 5. Even though the butterflies in my stomach were starting a war, nothing was going to stop me from stepping on that field to play my first tee ball game as a Little Tiger. Fans cheered, but what I noticed most was a little boy in the outfield picking his nose. Standing in the box, I was terrified; the field looked huge. I had never seen anything like this before, but I knew that the little boy was the person I needed to hit the ball to, so I hit the ball as hard as I could. The ball went soaring through the air like a bird on fire. Dropping from the air, it rolled to the fence. At that time, I knew I had fallen in love with the game of softball. I was smiling from ear to ear, I couldn’t believe I had hit the ball that far! Both sides screamed, yelled, and shouted with excitement. Was all this commotion for me? I rounded first, but I couldn’t go to second because my teammate, Kylie Leach, didn’t run. I didn’t know what she was doing. Sadly, the batter after me hit a ground ball to the pitcher, and the other team threw him out at first.

This time, Mac rolled it right down the pike. A meatball. My foot connected and the ball soared off into the distance. It went over the infield and above the center fielder's head, bouncing off the blue bench where we had made teams, and into the bushes. It was a great kick, and a terrific way to start off a game. I ran, as fast as lightning, my legs a machine, pumping towards first base. Then, I slowed to a mild jog when I saw the outfielder just getting the ball. I was Coming around second and heading to third, when Matt Weed, the third baseman, stuck out his leg and tripped me, with a smirk on his face. The ball was passed into the cut off man, who ran over and tagged me. I was not worried. Surely, Seth had seen Matt trip me and would grant me an extra base. Then, common sense hit me; I was talking about

Traveling is one of my family’s favorite things to do. The family has visited numerous places throughout the United States, however, none are as memorable as Atlanta, Georgia. In Atlanta, there are many places to go and sights to see such as: Cola-cola factory, Cabbage Patch Kids Factory, Under Ground Mall, the Zoo, Atlanta Braves Stadium, Six Flags Over Georgia, Stone Mountain Park, and the Atlanta Aquarium, are all in or near the city of Atlanta. The three that we visit on every trip to Atlanta are Six Flags, Stone Mountain, and the Atlanta Aquarium.

All game I was comfortable batting until that moment. Right foot in, left foot out, staring at the pitcher, my arms shaking, heart pumping I get ready to bat. First pitch comes, ball outside what a relief. Second pitch, fastball blown right by my waist, buffet strike; I just looked at it. Anxiously wanting to hit the ball, next pitch I swing it goes deep down the foul line. One and one is the count, next pitch I swing and miss, still anxious, and now upset at myself. The common two strike pitch is a curveball. With the knowledge of that, I swing at a curveball in the dirt: "striiiiike three!" the umpire sits me down. I was so upset at myself, but the following batter wins the game for us with a hit right up the right foul line to bring the runner from first to home.

My breakfast started to creep back up my throat as game time got closer and closer. I walked across the patch of grass behind home plate and was towered over by the 30 foot backstop with a huge net suspended from it. My bulging bag of equipment was beginning to make my shoulder hang. I walked down the steps into the cement dugout and placed my bag under the bench that spanned the entire length of the dugout. I sat down, laced up my cleats, and put my warm-up jacket on in preparation for batting practice. I stepped onto the grass surrounding the dugout to get the feeling of how wet the grass was. I dug my cleats into the grass and began my usual routine of taking certain practice swings as I gazed upon the press box in the wake of the backstop. Preceding the burn in my forearms, caused from the practice swings, I marched behind the dugout to the rows of batting cages to wait my turn in line. Pacing back and forth I knew I had to keep my nervousness to a minimum. I popped in a wad of Big League Chew and continued to

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,

The pitcher tries to put me out of his mind, but he can’t because I’m 60 feet away. He may have the mound to his advantage, but nothing will stop me from achieving this goal. I assess the field. There are runners on all the bases, the outfielders are playing back to prevent any extra base hits, and we’re down by 2 runs. I smooth out the dirt where my foot land, I make it smooth and the perfect landing spot for my foot, and step into the box. Everything must be perfect. I take a deep breath. I must stay calm. In...out. I sway my bat towards him and back into my pre-pitch position. My hands are relaxed but ready to unleash the violence of a baseball swing.

“Next up the right fielder Auuuuusstin Meeeehhhhrrrr” belows out of the speakers at full blast as I approach the plate. Feeling loose I ease into the batter's box sinking my cleats deep into the soft dirt where I can get a solid stance. Stretching my bat across the plate showing the pitcher how much reach I have tempting him to throw one in the zone. Weight is on my back leg as I slowly bounce the bat in my hands anticipating the first pitch. The pitcher begins his windup and I stop moving the bat and focus on the ball.

As the pitcher scrutinizes the catcher’s signals, the angst of the moment can only escalate; a one way road with no ceasing in sight. He starts his motion, with a fierce confidence, knowing the game is controlled by him. I begin to perceive seconds as hours, realizing the risks that every millisecond emits. The baseball bat prepared above my shoulders gains a million pounds as the ball leaves the hand of my adversary. Thoughts of confusion, possibilities, and worry are quickly overwhelmed by speculation. “Is this traveling fast? Will it be in the strike zone? What if I miss my swing? Is it changing direction? Will it hit me? Can I dodge it?”. THWACK!

The first pitch came in. ¨Ball outside,’’ the umpire said as I stepped out of the box to take a breather. The second pitch came in as a Strike as I tried to get a hack at it but it broke across the plate. I stepped out of the box to regain my composure. Bases loaded 1 out. The third pitch came in and was a fastball that was traveling across the plate at 72 miles per hour, but I got my bat on it at the right time and the ball was in the outfield in a matter of seconds. The ball rolled passed the outfielder as I ran the bases as fast as I could. The outfielder struggled to get the ball in and threw to the cutoff man. By the time he got it in I was already at third for a straight up triple to score three runs to tie it up . “ Timeout,” I called as I took off my helmet and got ready to pitch.Jose took my place to pinch run for me as I needed to start warming up to pitch.

The first pitch that the coach threw to me seared the hair right off my head since it was going so fast. “Strike one!” called the ump. Alright, I needed to believe in my abilities. The next pitched was hurled right in line with my face! When I opened my eyes, I saw that the baseball was a perfect pitch and the catcher hadn’t moved his glove. The coach was making a fool out of me with his famous curve ball. “Strike two!” the umpire proclaimed. The next pitch was the one that I would make my mark on. The pitcher wound up and thrust the ball toward the catcher’s glove. I loaded and fiercely swung as hard as I could. After what seemed like forever, I looked into the catcher’s glove, and there was the ball. I felt dreadful. “Strike three!” I heard in the background. As I walked back to the dugout, I wondered what did I do wrong, what could I have changed, and what does the coach think of

My teammate runs over from first base to second, as I hear my name called out. I get out of the dugout, as I walk out my coach urgently talks to me. He yells at me: “Just focus. Focus only on the ball.” My heart beating, crowd watching, and my bat up high, I see the pitcher starting to take off. “My only option”, I say to myself. I see the ball coming right toward the middle. I take a swing, the ball tips my bat, as I stood there like it was about to end. I take one of my biggest decisions in my life, as the pitcher makes a fastball up high. All of the sudden, the fear goes away. I have confidence. All I hear is the sound that the bat makes when it hits the ball. The moment I open my eyes, I see the ball going high up into right field. The ball hits the ground, as my vision gets blurred by my tears.

Some people just think softball is as simple as someone swinging a stick, hitting a ball, and trying to get back to where they started. They don’t see what softball really means to someone like me. Someone who has dedicated their life just to be able to play on that field at a certain level. Someone who wants to go to college and play the sport that they love. Well, I play softball because of the love I have for the sport.

I step out of the batters box to gather myself. I take a couple of check swings. I tell myself now you are ready. I Step back into the batter’s box and prepare myself for the next pitch. In my mind, I am thing if he pitches a fast ball I am going to swing for the heavens. The pitcher throws a fast ball. I can see the ball moving towards me as if it was moving in slow motion. My eyes zoom in on the ball like a pair of binoculars. I swing it is a hit into the outfield over the centerfielders head. I run with

I was getting very nervous, because all three of us were hitless today. Okay, we need base runners, and we need them now. Don’t try to do too much, just get a hit. I thought. The first pitch was a fastball right down the middle of the plate, a perfect pitch to hit. My eyes got big, and my mind said swing, but before I could react, the ball was past me.