Personal Narrative: Baseball

My sister was really sick in her head, and she was a danger to herself and our family. I remember the cops being called sometimes when she got too out of hand. I can recall the threats she would shriek to my parents. She even spent over a year in a mental hospital. I had no idea how bad her condition was until I visited her in the hospital. It was a terrifying place with constant surveillance. Everyone looked depressed and trapped. The hospital looked like it was a prison. This really hit me like a wrecking ball, and I cried myself to sleep a lot of nights. In reality, I just lost some of my personality because of this experience. However, I always remember baseball being there for me. I loved getting on that field and freeing my mind from the current situation. That's when I realized that baseball helped me deal with adversity in real life as well as in the game. During eighth grade, I was back to my normal self. I was talking to friends and loving my life. From this experience, I am almost always exhilarated to be at the field playing baseball. This shows the possibilities of a bounce back in the game, but more importantly in real

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.

Baseball does many things for me. Baseball gives me the opportunity to get into college someday with cheaper tuition, the privilege to meet new people with the same passion for baseball, and it has gives me the

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.

More than just an interest, baseball is a feeling deep in your chest. Baseball is roasting in the afternoon sun at a Sunday game or the smell of fresh popcorn wafting up to the nosebleed seats right behind home base. It’s the feeling of the ball landing right into my mitt during

Many people don't understand the point in playing baseball. Why would someone swing a stick, hit a ball, and try to get back to where they started before the ball returns? What pleasure is there in that? Why not participate in a sport like wrestling or track where there is an obvious level of individual improvement and therefore pleasure. Well, I play baseball because of the love I have for the sport, and because of the feeling that overwhelms me every time I walk onto a baseball field. When I walk onto a field I am given the desire to better myself not only as an athlete, but also as a person. The thoughts and feelings I get drive me to work hard towards my goals and to be a better person. The most relevant

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.

Since I can remember, I was in love with game of baseball. I believe that when I was a kid, baseball taught me how to be passionate. I remember always impatiently waiting to play catch with my Dad or play wiffleball with my brother. I believe baseball has taught me more than just passion but it has also taught me a number of life lessons and has also shaped who I am as a person today.

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.

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,

As my Varsity baseball team suits up for practice we whip out our “Easton Mako Bats” and our “Evo-Shield arm sleeves.” Everyone prepares for the season as we break in our new 200-dollar gloves. As I Un-zip my “Demarani Bat Bag” I search for the stick of eye black that seems to add spice to my game as I smother it under my eye, to “reflect the sun” of course. Our accessories become a part of our game, and we begin to value them more than the game itself.

Baseball has been so much more than just a passion and sport for me. It has taught me life lessons and given me the determination to succeed in whatever I do in

I love baseball! My Mom told me that when I was 3 my Dad signed me up for peewee soccer. I hated soccer and cried at every game. After soccer ened my Mom said that I asked to play the game where there is the ball and the stick. I didn’t even know that the stick was called a bat. My parents signed me up for peewee baseball and I was hooked. I have been