How To Love Baseball

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

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,

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

This passage is important because Michael is ineligible to play because he doesn’t have a birth certificate so he coaches 3rd base. That reflects the theme because he finds a way to stick with baseball, even though he is not allowed to play. It might not seem like it, but this play won the game. The bottom of the lineup was up and everyone thought they would lose the game. The head coach told Bobby to just hit, but Michael gave him a different sign, he told him to bunt down the third base line. Everybody thought the game was over and the chances of going to Williamsport ( Little League World Series) was over. Bobby missed the first two times. Cory Allen, the pitcher thought he couldn’t touch the ball so he lobbed it in as soft as he could. Now instead of bunting Bobby was swinging as hard as he could. The ball didn’t even get past the infield, but he still had a chance. Bobby was running faster than he ever has when the shortstop threw the ball it was wild and it went over the first basebmen, which ment Bobby was

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,

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.

first person about his struggles in the beginning of his baseball career, and how he miraculously turns his

Only being the bat boy, Stanton had to bring his equipment to the ballpark everyday and go hit in the batting cages before the team showed up. Stanton thought to himself, “Why is coach asking me to swing in batting practice today? He has never done that once since I became the bat boy.” Stanton walked back onto the field and stepped into the batter’s box. Before Stanton even took a swing, he looked at the beautiful Marlins Park. Straight ahead was the bright, colorful outfield walls that were painted green. Stanton soaked in the atmosphere. While the batting practice pitcher went to throw the first pitch to Stanton, Johnny Field, the Marlins seventh round draft pick said, “Come on coach! You’re giving the bat boy a couple swings? Ha-ha that’s funny.” Just as Field finished his sentence, Scotty Stanton crushed the first pitch he saw into the left-center field gap, landing at an estimate four hundred feet. Coach Mattingly said, “Sit your ass down Field, we should have drafted this kid over you!” Stanton gave Mattingly a smile. Stanton continued to punish balls, smashing them all over Marlins Park. To others, it was just batting practice, but to Stanton, it meant more. It felt as if he had the game of baseball back in his life. When Stanton’s round was over, the Marlins players were impressed, besides the envious Johnny Field. One Marlins player even told Mattingly that this kid needs to be in the lineup. Mattingly

Chris Givens was a middle school boy and he loved to play baseball. Chris lived and breathed baseball. He would watch every game he could. Also, the only sport he played was baseball so he was the best at it. However, there was one problem for Chris. He was not one the most popular kids. Only the most popular kids were picked onto the school's baseball team. Chris had tried to act cool and even hang out with cool kids, but it never worked out. Even though Chris was not like everyone on the baseball team he is determined to be the first kid to make the baseball who wasn’t popular.

Lights blaring into my eyes, the crack of the bat, the shouting of the overly-devoted parents, the salty aroma arising off of the freshly roasted peanuts, all came together to create the overwhelming presence of a little league baseball game. This was a place where I spent most of my time on week day afternoons, in the spring, watching my brother succeed at America’s pastime. He was really quite good at this sport called baseball; he had just been granted the position of starting pitcher for the team. Sometimes things that have occurred in my life, and stuff I have received, that I may not have necessarily deserve, can be taken for granted. However, after what was about to take place my eyes are given a new perspective.

It was a hot summer day, and Jackson was at his house getting ready for his baseball game. He was very anxious because if his team won the game they would be able to qualify for a tournament, that a lot of teams from other states would be participating in. But, before all of that came they needed to win this game. Jackson got his hat and went to the car, where his dad was waiting for him. On the way to the field his dad encouraged him to try his best and help his team. An hour later after they warmed up, the game started. Then, two hours later, the game ended and Jackson's team won four to two.

The sun has risen and a young boy jumps out of bed with excitement, as he knows today he gets to go to his first professional baseball game. His father had bought him the tickets for his birthday months ago, and the boy had been counting down the days ever since. He put on his favorite ‘Cleveland Indians’ shirt, and ran downstairs to eat his yogurt and waffles for breakfast. As he ate, his mother saw him happily drawing Jacob’s Field, using his brown crayon to put the finishing touches on the base paths. The boy had a penchant attitude for baseball, as it was the first game his father ever taught him to play, and because of that, he would play whenever he could; with rocks and a stick, with his friends in the yard, and in his head when he

At the end of the eighth inning we pick up the game with Kansas City leading the Minnesota Twins one to zero. Steve, sitting on the bench in the corner with a towel over his head in the Kansas City Royals dugout as his team is batting in the eighth inning, has thoughts that go back to his Little League days when his father Joe Ballard would say. “Don’t worry about the batter, play pitch and catch with the catcher. That’s how to win a game from the pitcher’s mound.”

The second championship game began much like the first. By the seventh inning the score was seven to one in favor of Waterloo Valley. Being the home team, we had one more chance for survival in the bottom of the inning. The inning started with one hit after another, raising the team’s spirits with each one. The hits just kept coming until we finally found ourselves only down by only one run. The excitement in the dugout was soaring, and so, with a runner on third base and two outs, Coach Sullivan put in Jakob Crampton for what could be the final at bat of the season. After strike one the anxiety became overwhelming. With the second pitch on its way, Crampton swang the bat, and the dugout exploded into cheering as the ball found its way between the third baseman

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.