Personal Narrative: Home Run Derby

Softball isn’t all smiles and winning. Sometimes things could almost get sweet. For instance, we were the first team to ever beat Gladstone. I remember it was the second game of the season and we were playing at the dome. I remember Zeke punching the air, “Hell yeah! That’s what I want to see!” and telling us we didn’t have to clean up the equipment because we had won. We went home on a high, so incredibly proud to be on that team.

I was born in Independence, MO on November 14, 1999. I was born into a sports family. My great grandpa and grandpa started teaching me baseball as soon as I could hold one. My great grandma and grandpa babysat me while my Mom was at work. He would sit on the floor and roll the ball to me. When it got warmer, we would go outside and play on his deck. I have loved baseball ever since. Sports have always been my passion. I play baseball and basketball. I started playing basketball my freshman year of high school and started playing baseball as soon as I was ready. There was never a time in my life where I wanted to stop playing sports, never once. I have never had a coach that has made me want to quit playing. If I had a coach that hated me, I paid attention to myself and didn’t let him get to my head about playing the game. I am going to try so hard to go as far as possible with baseball. I want to play baseball for the rest of my life. It’s what I’ve wanted to do since I was in middle school. I’ve known what I wanted to do with my life for the longest time. Sports are “my everything” and

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 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.

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.

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's a hot Texas Sun beat down upon my neck a fast ball whizzed past my bat and into the catcher's glove after you had another strikeout. I trudged back to the dugout thoughts of failure filled my mind of my confidence slowly vanishing. I wasn't accustomed to anything less than success before high school. I prospered in youth athletics while living in South Dakota. I had a phenomenal baseball coach to transform my robbed potential into success on the baseball diamond. Unfortunately, my father's Air Force career demanded that we move before my baseball season. Without me my team went on to win the city state championships advancing all the way to the Little League World. When I was younger my family moved to not affect my athletic performance the difficulties began I was torn from my tight-knit community in Northern Virginia and forced to adjust to life in West Texas prior to the start of my freshman year. I struggled to regain the close friends and relationships I left behind for the first time in my life.

“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.

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.

At the beginning of the Softball season, I had a horrible pitch, now after a ton of practice, I can finally get a perfect pitch. I always wanted to be a pitcher because there were only two pitchers on my team. But it was me against my coach and my team. Would the coach approve my pitch? Would the team accept me as a pitcher? Read my story to find out.

lukas k//After school I hung around with my friends until baseball practice at 4:30. until baseball practice. At baseball practice we practice and fielding and hitting.after baseball practice me and my friend Max walked back to his house, after baseball practice me and my friend Max Walked back to his house, because it's only five blocks away.we hung out and rode bike for a couple hours until my dad pick me up. When my dad picked me up, he informed me that I could babysit. my dad picked me up, he informed me that I could babysit. After thinking about it, I said “yes”. He brought me to McDonald's, then to Shanes. The person I babysit for. After babysitting until 330. I went home, took a shower and went to bed. The next morning I got up at

Until I became a high schooler my dream was to grow up always playing softball. Softball was my all time favorite sport to play. My dream was to be a softball athlete my entire life. When I was younger I started playing as a little kid and I grew up playing until my sophomore year in high school. I played on and traveling team and started on the high school team practicing and playing with all my closest friends. I played for DeWitt and Maquoketa and I had fun both way. I always tried to stay active in it.