Modern Baseball Narrative

About three weeks ago, the Packer Varsity baseball team beat Berkeley Carroll school for the first time in twelve years and in glorious fashion. Tears streamed down my face as our winning run crossed the plate in extra innings, dust flying up as my teammates and I mobbed each other at the plate. Yet a few short days later, our team was blindsided by the news that St. Ann’s had pulled off back to back upsets to squeak their way into the playoffs ahead of us - just as our season seemed to be looking up, it was over.

“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.

I grew up in a family of baseball players. My grandpa was the first to really get into then it passed on from my dad to me. Growing up I was always practicing or playing baseball. My father and grandfather taught me the basics and it was almost a new way of socialization. Having to learn baseball was like learning a new language. Playing baseball when I was young started as just fun. Starting at the age of 5 I never did much playing. I more so stood in the field and kicked dirt around.

I gave up. I was not good enough. Pressure got to me. I was a failure. Key word, was.

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 am reading ,The end of Baseball by, Peter Schilling Jr. The book is about what would people do with out baseball.

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.

The start of the game of baseball is unknown, but some people believe they know when it started. The game of baseball believes to start in England. The start of baseball was around 1760, the game was called Rounder. Rounder had the same rules as baseball today, but it had its difference. The biggest difference was that a fielder had to throw the ball at the runner to get them out. The game changed in 1845. A group of people got together to talk about the game. They wanted to make the game safer. They changed the rules of the fielder. He would not throw at the baserunner anymore; they must tag the baserunner with the ball. The equipment changed as well when they made the rule change. They started to use a harder ball.

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.

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.

We were in the streets of the neighborhood, Ann Elizabeth to be exact. We had just began to play a game of baseball with my brothers new metal bat. Mom had already left for work and my dad was getting ready to leave as well. He was running sort of late. My brother and I were about to start the game, we check around us to make sure no one was near us to play a safe game. We saw our little sister and brother at the front doors neighbor's house playing with their daughter last time we checked. As my brother threw the baseball, I was getting ready to swing then bam! Before I knew it the bat had already crashed into my little brother's head. Let me remind you that this was a metal bat. A metal bat had ran cross my little brother's head. I was so terrified. My little brother was only 4 at that time. I did not know what to do. I held him in my arms. He was still conscious. I was holding my hand over his open wound. He bled a lot. My other brother had ran to let my dad know. My dad came rushing outside,

November 24TH, 1887, football fans used boxing gloves and broomsticks to play the very first, official, game of softball. Just a little over four decades earlier, Alexander Cartwright, the “father of baseball” formalized the rules, or codes, of “townball”. What is “townball”? Who exactly is Alexander Cartwright? Moreover, what on earth does this have to do with fast-pitch softball? These are all valid questions you may or, may not have right now.

One day baseball season was starting, and James and Adam wanted to join, so they asked their parents.