I could feel the pitcher’s stress from 200 feet away in the dugout. We were up five at the top of the eighth, but the win was not secure. I could tell the pitcher was struggling to keep his composure. Suddenly, the coach calls me to warm up in the bullpen. I was excited and nervous to enter the game; I knew my warming up would add pressure to the pitcher and this was the Legion Sub-State Semifinal game, which determined our chance to advance to state. By the time I got to the mound, the bases were loaded with two outs. I noticed the packed stadium, felt the sweltering 90 degrees, and sensed the crowd’s tension. I had never pitched against this team, so I relied on communicating with the catcher. I threw a knee high fastball--STRIKE ONE. Next, I threw low and away curveball--STRIKE TWO. The catcher signaled a high fastball, knowing the batter was expecting another curveball. The batter chased the ball--STRIKE THREE. We won the game and moved on to finals. Two hours in the dug out, five minutes in the bullpen, and thirty seconds on the mound--not to mention fifteen hours a week, ten months a year for fifteen years--all culminated in a few seconds to advance …show more content…
A pitcher is either glorified or criticized, depending on the game’s outcome. The more I played, the more I learned to ignore noise, doubt, and the past to focus on the immediate. To pitch well, I live in the moment while simultaneously knowing what is happening behind me. I developed a keen sense of intuition in order to quickly stop a player from stealing second base or bunt. Learning to trust my intuition has assisted me in other areas of my life: by paying attention to the study guide, I get a sense of the upcoming test, assessing how my brother closes the door when he comes home, helps me determine his mood, trusting my first answer choice during tests, has improved my
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.
From the young age of five, through the eleven years full of learning curves and numerous injuries, I was shaped by my self motivation and peers. Softball was a profound component in my daily life. When I was younger I would have never thought softball would have such an incredible impact on my character. Today, my past experiences shape me into an individual who can be seen as not only a leader, but as someone who can work as a team to achieve goals and standards. I remember learning to pitch for the first time.
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.
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,
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
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.
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.
Blood, sweat and tears. All for one sport you love. Going to the fields, putting my cleats on and batting.(Cumulative) From the time I stepped on the diamond, I knew softball was going to be something I was good at. Usually most people start off playing t-ball and work their way up to the big leagues. Not me. I started my third grade year. Of course I was hesitant (nervous), but I got over that fast enough. I played every position possible. I was a strong hitter (usually making it on base every time). But that’s 10 u. Over the years, I became exceptionally good at softball. I had many compliments on how good I was. Parents were telling my parents how good I was. But that was only the beginning.
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.
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.
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.
I always consider myself to play Major League baseball; as I grew up; I realized that I would need a backup plan. By the seventh grade I noticed that I liked to do hands on activities and problem solve difficult tasks. I displayed all the interests of an electrical engineer. I believe that the interest really may have started at an even younger age. My father has been a maintenance technician for almost 25 years. In say that, I enjoyed watching my dad fix things which sparked my interest in fixing things, or at least look into the engineering field.
did things people asked me to, but nothing more than what was expected. I faced very few setbacks. School was great and I put little effort into it, and still earned decent grades. Within softball I was working at an acceptable pace. Every now and then I wondered what I could achieve with a little effort. I had a pretty good attitude towards life and was proud of who I was. I lived up until 7th grade with thinking I was doing fine. It became an issue when I would want to be better at things, but I did not want to try hard.
I am a baseball player who loves to play baseball and very good at it,
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.