Reflection Paper

Imagine standing on a softball field expected to perform at the age of 5. Even though the butterflies in my stomach were starting a war, nothing was going to stop me from stepping on that field to play my first tee ball game as a Little Tiger. Fans cheered, but what I noticed most was a little boy in the outfield picking his nose. Standing in the box, I was terrified; the field looked huge. I had never seen anything like this before, but I knew that the little boy was the person I needed to hit the ball to, so I hit the ball as hard as I could. The ball went soaring through the air like a bird on fire. Dropping from the air, it rolled to the fence. At that time, I knew I had fallen in love with the game of softball. I was smiling from ear to ear, I couldn’t believe I had hit the ball that far! Both sides screamed, yelled, and shouted with excitement. Was all this commotion for me? I rounded first, but I couldn’t go to second because my teammate, Kylie Leach, didn’t run. I didn’t know what she was doing. Sadly, the batter after me hit a ground ball to the pitcher, and the other team threw him out at first.

This time, Mac rolled it right down the pike. A meatball. My foot connected and the ball soared off into the distance. It went over the infield and above the center fielder's head, bouncing off the blue bench where we had made teams, and into the bushes. It was a great kick, and a terrific way to start off a game. I ran, as fast as lightning, my legs a machine, pumping towards first base. Then, I slowed to a mild jog when I saw the outfielder just getting the ball. I was Coming around second and heading to third, when Matt Weed, the third baseman, stuck out his leg and tripped me, with a smirk on his face. The ball was passed into the cut off man, who ran over and tagged me. I was not worried. Surely, Seth had seen Matt trip me and would grant me an extra base. Then, common sense hit me; I was talking about

It was a hot summer day in Hammond, Louisiana and I was pouring down sweat like I had just jumped in a pool. The game was just about to begin, me and my team was eagle eyeing the bomb squad. It was so quiet that you could hear your own sweat hitting the bench. The umpire broke up everyone’s concentration by saying, “play ball”! The defense had ran out on the field and I started rolling ground balls from 2nd to short-stop to third base. They had all made good throws back to me and then I threw the ball into the dug-out because the game had begun.

All game I was comfortable batting until that moment. Right foot in, left foot out, staring at the pitcher, my arms shaking, heart pumping I get ready to bat. First pitch comes, ball outside what a relief. Second pitch, fastball blown right by my waist, buffet strike; I just looked at it. Anxiously wanting to hit the ball, next pitch I swing it goes deep down the foul line. One and one is the count, next pitch I swing and miss, still anxious, and now upset at myself. The common two strike pitch is a curveball. With the knowledge of that, I swing at a curveball in the dirt: "striiiiike three!" the umpire sits me down. I was so upset at myself, but the following batter wins the game for us with a hit right up the right foul line to bring the runner from first to home.

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

As an individual I love staying active, socializing with others, being dependable, and keeping busy. Playing Basketball for Flour Bluff ISD, since the seventh grade, has granted me the opportunity to achieve all of these goals. For some peculiar reason I have consistently felt that I lacked experience of which my peers had, and that I would never be able to acquire it. Soon after I started playing I became intimidated of my fellow teammates and worried about the time I felt I lost, due to beginning so late in my childhood. Without fail, I always feel a sense of accomplishment after making it through tryouts every year and as I approach my final season, it has become clear just how much of my life was devoted to Basketball, that I truly love it and how I am thankful to be a part of something much more than just a team.

I was playing center field waiting for those flying balls to come straight at me so I could catch them to get the players out. The girl that was batting hit the ball so hard that it sounded like she broke the bat. The ball was about thirty feet in the air and I shuffled backwards to see if it was going behind me sure enough it was. I sped up my speed to keep in sync with the ball, I put my glove out in front of my face and with a lot of force the ball landed right in the glove. The crowds started to cheer, and so did my team mates. I threw the ball to second base and got the runner out on a double play. The crowds cheered and roared with excitement. The game passed quickly, and we were in the last inning. Our team was the last to bat. The bases were fully loaded. The crowd cheered for a beautiful hit. It was now my turn to bat. My chance to show everyone that I improved. As I was walking my team mate shouted, “You got this, Andre!”. Then all of a sudden everyone started to chant and scream my nick name. This brought tears to my eyes because they all believed in

In the bottom of the inning, with the chance to win, I would make the first plate appearance of the inning with hopes to start it off with a hit. Before our at-bats, Coach Sullivan talked to the team saying, “This is the moment you have all worked for. This is where all that extra work will finally pay off. This is a moment you will remember for the rest of your lives. Now GO GET ‘EM!” So I ran in the dugout, grabbed my helmet and bat, and began getting ready for my at-bat. As I was preparing Coach Sullivan came over and gathered up the next few batters, including myself, and said, “Right now! This is your time! Go do your best and good things will happen!” I was as prepared as ever when I finally stepped up to the plate to start the inning. As the pitch came towards me I swung the bat and felt a POP. I looked up to see the ball soar into the outfield and land as a base hit. The next batter was Ben Beis who, on the first pitch, watched a ball in the dirt which got past the catcher allowing me to advance to second base. Ben then did a sacrifice bunt moving me from second base to third

For basketball, I played AAU through the YMCA for three years, and for soccer I played futsal to receive more touches during the off-season. This meant some nights I had three practices to go to before I could go home and relax. I learned the more time and effort I put into anything, the more likely I would succeed. My hard work paid off when I received honorable mention all-conference for basketball my junior year. Along with the hard work I have put into these sports, I have left behind traits of my good character.

Softball ruled over my life from the time I was five years of age until I was fourteen. According to the people who had watched one of my games, I played first base phenomenally and had some wonderful at bats when I focused on centering my power to hit the ball with all the force I could muster. Unfortunately and fortunately, my father coached every team I played on from T-ball to fast-pitch. At every game, he observed my mechanics and hand-eye coordination, and this pulled memories of watching my brother hit numerous home runs and make game-winning outs from his mind. On nearly all of the car rides home, he would tell me “You remind me so much of Dusty. I see him the way you throw, in the way you hit the ball, and the way you present

The first pitch came in. ¨Ball outside,’’ the umpire said as I stepped out of the box to take a breather. The second pitch came in as a Strike as I tried to get a hack at it but it broke across the plate. I stepped out of the box to regain my composure. Bases loaded 1 out. The third pitch came in and was a fastball that was traveling across the plate at 72 miles per hour, but I got my bat on it at the right time and the ball was in the outfield in a matter of seconds. The ball rolled passed the outfielder as I ran the bases as fast as I could. The outfielder struggled to get the ball in and threw to the cutoff man. By the time he got it in I was already at third for a straight up triple to score three runs to tie it up . “ Timeout,” I called as I took off my helmet and got ready to pitch.Jose took my place to pinch run for me as I needed to start warming up to pitch.

Toward the beginning of the game, one of the other team’s best hitter was up. I was playing outfield and the first hit came. Pow! I went over all of our heads, but luckily it was a foul ball. On the second hit, it

I thought they thoroughly perceived me only in light of the fact that our bats were ablaze. We worked our way up to score three keeps running in that inning and we led the pack. Unfortunately, they got an opportunity to bat. I was still in the diversion and I had tossed around one hundred and thirty pitches which is a considerable measure for a pitcher. Traditionally mentors take out their pitchers when they hit the one hundred pitch stamp. I was now ready to ambulate out of the hole and onto the field when Coach halted me.

Coach had put me in charge of helping Jeremy learn the basics of baseball. Having never played before, it was very strenuous trying to show what to do in certain situations. The first thing I asked him was if he was a lefty or a righty. Simple baseball terms for a left-handed batter or a right-handed batter. We figured out he was a lefty, I placed him on the right side of plate and I stood back as coach pitched him the first ball and he missed.

Since the beginning of the semester, my writing has changed and evolved to accommodate and sustain longer essays. With longer essays, there is more room for in-depth analysis. Further analyzing a topic has led me to findings that I did not know existed. As I continue to write, I uncover addition and superior methods to approach my writing to the benefit of me and therefore, my audience. Throughout the semester, I have incorporated techniques to further my narrative throughout my writing.