Personal Narrative Essay On Baseball

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.

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.

It was not until the age of 10 where my career really started to kick in and I did not take baseball for granted. It was a sport that I always liked to play. I always played every summer in a youth baseball league. It was a recreational league, but it is where I made some of my best friends. This league made it feel like we had no responsibilities and the social environment was one that I will never forget because being able to talk to others that understand what you mean is nice to have. When first starting that league my dad started coaching me up until I was eleven. Then he started taking the game to heart. We were still too young to fully understand that and he made a few kids cry and so the league banned him from coaching. So, my next year my grandpa took my dad’s spot and coached the team. There was always one rivalry we had. It was a team with almost all the older and best players in the league. Every year they went undefeated, except one. It was the finals game and it was a double

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 click my cleats with my bat and dig a hole in the batter's box and stair at the pitcher. The pitch comes in slow almost in slow motion. I swing as hard as can. I hear the crack of the bat and I see the ball fly over the fence. I can't believe it. I never thought in a million years I would ever hit a homerun. I hear my teammates screaming. I round first, I'm almost at second when the shock wears off and I realize that I just won the game. A huge smile crosses my face as I round third and head for home. I get closer and closer to home. I stomp on home. Then before I know it the lights go out.

but in middle school I could not make the team in either of my two years that I was in middle school. It was 7th and 8th grade, but that did not stop me from ever playing baseball. Here is my story on how I never gave up on playing baseball even though I did not make the team two straight years in middle school.

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.

One summer day, me and my sister penelope received a call from my aunt. The call was to ask if we would go to a baseball game. Well of course we agreed, why would we not go to what would be our first game. The date was set, it was a day before Independence day. I was very excited I counted down on my cute marble print planner with a big blue sticker phrased “ seize today”. Finally I’m going to do something for the summer!

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.

I love it when the adrenaline pumps through my veins before every play. I just love sports, and I especially love playing rugby and baseball.

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.

As I sat and watched the college world series this weekend I began to wonder about baseball and several questions came to mind: where did we get the game of baseball? Who should we give credit to for the formation of the game we see today?

That when you do something in the past that you weren’t good at, then you try it again. When, you try it again you would know what to do but better. So, when I took a break from baseball and didn’t play for months and I came back better than I ever was. So, taking a break was a good thing for me cause i cleared my head and had a different mindset. And, they made me be better at what I do, and maybe even better than people that I couldn’t beat in the past. I once, saw a docomatary about a player (Derek Jeter) that took a break from playing sports and was a good thing for the Yankees. They won the World Series when he came back to play for them. Then i started to think to myself that if they took a break and