Personal Narrative-Play Ball

Clouds mugged the sun of light as the day progressed. Dusk filled the air on the baseball diamond where I would leave my legacy. Forth, was the championship game to be played, and the pressure of the starting pitcher, was not fazing me. In the zone, we said the Little League pledge. Jolts of excitement filled my muscles as I recited the piece that I know all too well. Warming up, I was controlled, and was ready to bring it. The game began with a bang. Strikeout after strikeout I fired, giving my all every single pitch. ‘BOOM’ went the glove after every pitch, whizzed right by the petrified batter. However, this was not much different for our team. Just two hits filled the board, I and my teammate Ian Keth. Scoring off of this was efficient,

The major league World Series has come. The games that KC Royals, Lopez’s team, have won are 3 games. The opponent team, San Francisco, have won one. One more win and the Royals are the champs… again.

The day started out with some introductions and then went right into fielding drills. The players paired up and warmed their arms with some long-toss catch.

“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.

“There’s no crying in baseball.” That is something my dad always says to me. What made me think of that? Oh yeah, I have a baseball tournament this weekend! I couldn’t wait to smell the rubber glove, feel the speed of the pitcher, and feel the turf. I wanted to get back to see my teammates and my coaches. At 5:30 it was time to head to Lenz Field!

The first pitch that the coach threw to me seared the hair right off my head since it was going so fast. “Strike one!” called the ump. Alright, I needed to believe in my abilities. The next pitched was hurled right in line with my face! When I opened my eyes, I saw that the baseball was a perfect pitch and the catcher hadn’t moved his glove. The coach was making a fool out of me with his famous curve ball. “Strike two!” the umpire proclaimed. The next pitch was the one that I would make my mark on. The pitcher wound up and thrust the ball toward the catcher’s glove. I loaded and fiercely swung as hard as I could. After what seemed like forever, I looked into the catcher’s glove, and there was the ball. I felt dreadful. “Strike three!” I heard in the background. As I walked back to the dugout, I wondered what did I do wrong, what could I have changed, and what does the coach think of

“Sometimes you've got to respect what the other team can do, too,” Francona said. “Sometimes they beat you. I didn't think we beat ourselves. I thought they beat us.

It was the top of the seventh, and the Freeburg Rebels had a 1 run lead. After one of my teammates made the last out, I headed to the mound for the bottom of the last inning. While warming up, I could feel the scorching heat piercing my skin. As the first batter walked up to the plate, the umpire yelled out “Play Ball”! Despite this being one of the most important moments in my baseball career, I wasn’t nervous. I was locked in. On the first pitch, the catcher held up a 1, signaling for a fastball. I started my windup and continued to throw the pitch. The batter swung out of his shoes like he was trying to take one over the Green Monster at Fenway Park. Channeling my inner Bob Gibson, I threw the 2 filthiest breaking balls I’ve ever thrown

As coach listened he was also preparing of the biggest speech of the season. He said “We as coaches can only do so much as it is to teaching you guys what to do, you have to do the rest on the field. You have to try harder than you have ever tried before, you have to dig deep and show them what you got, now let’s go do this. TEAM on three, one-two-three.”

The team lines up putting their right hand on their hearts, and their left hand on the shoulder in front of them. This moment is so powerful, one that will stay with you forever. After this you get in a hudle and yell “tigers on three”! Before the game starts you wait for the announcer to announce your name, and throughout the game. When you are up to bat, your teammates chant cheers and sing the traditional songs, since the kindergarten league. While they are singing the songs and cheering it makes yourself feel confident and knowing you have support from your team. The sound only yourself can hear, your heart racing, beating rapidly waiting for the pitch in the batter’s box. I have intense nerves waiting for the ball to come over home plate as I watch the ball make contact with the bat. When running from base to base my metal cleats clashing into the sand sounding as you’re crushing the sand under your cleats. It is a terrifying sound when the sound of metal cleats are scratching in the concrete dugout producing rough goose bumps on my

I walk to the base. Sand kicks up as I pound my feet in place. I stare at the pitcher, staring at me. Swing. I swing my bat hard. I miss it badly. “Strike One!” I hear as i try to focus. Only hit it if it’s perfect. I think to myself, taking a couple of practice swings. I step back up to the base and ready my feet again. A pound of sand puffs up. I look behind me at the crowd, there eyes staring at me. I look to my team, their eyes looking at me saying, We’re counting on you! I look back to the pitcher. I nod, the pitcher gets in position. You got this… BANG! I hit the ball so hard it goes flying across the field. “Run! Run!” I hear everyone in the crowd, and in the dugout, yell. I run as fast as I can. Dirt kicks up underneath my feet. First

Throughout my life, I have been apart of America’s pastime--baseball. My career started in the dog days of the ‘03 season and I have not stopped playing since. Looking back, I can see the horrid field where I first started playing, and if I shift gears and look forward, I can see the shimmering astro turf I will be playing on in college. The steps taken to learn the skills, positions, and history it takes to play the game of baseball have been stored in the very core of my being, but I was launched into this learning process. I never got to play teeball like most young players do, so I did not learn the game in the same manner as most ball players have before me. The speedy progression would discourage most from ever playing again, but I fed on the opportunity and thrived. Time and time again, the game of baseball has tried to knock me out with an array of assailants, but it has not succeeded to this point, for I have gotten back up each time stronger than before. One could say baseball was the mold that made me into who I am today.

The catcher put two figures down; he called a 12-6 curveball. I nodded up and down as I began my wind-up for the third time. The ball was traveling towards the plate, and I could see the forward spin of the ball. As it got closer and closer to the plate, I could see the batter loading up to swing at it. The batter started his swing, and the ball dove right underneath his bat, thanks to the forward spin of the ball. The ball landed at the base of home plate. The catcher was able to block the ball and tag the batter out before even leaving the batter’s box. I could now just have fun with the rest of the game.

Baseball is the most popular spring sport in the United States. Something I once participated in and now watch. Just weeks before the busy season, Dad and I were working on the beautiful field. We had been impatient, working on the field for weeks now. We worked through the slush, the mud, and now the sandy dirt. Practices started and though I do not play I am at every practice. The ding of the ball colliding with the bat, the smack of the ball hitting the glove, and the players yelling, “nice job!”

“Batter up,” the umpire hollered. I took a deep breath and walked up to the batter’s box. I placed my hand in the air towards the umpire, indicating time, so that I could get myself into the correct position. I took one last look at home plate and took another deep breath. This was it; my time to shine.