Snowball-Personal Narrative

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.

Nate had threw the first pitch. Wackk. They had hit the ball right back to me and I ran touched first base. I threw the ball back to Nate to pitch it again and Crack They had hit a sky rocket and it can soring down like and eagle. Let me be honest I was actually kind of scared to catch that pop fly. 2 outs we just need one more to go hit and nate pitched it he hit it right to wyatt and he fielded it and threw it to me all I feltwas the dirt come off my glove and hit me in the face.

I smacked the ball over the right fielder but it seemed as that time slowed down, I felt as the ball was lost in space. As i realized it was gonna be a hit I turned on the wheels and sprinted off. Once I got to first I knew I had a easy triple so i rounded 2 and head for third. When I was running to third I looked at coach and he was telling me to go home. I could not believe what I was seeing, I knew it was gonna be close so I ran as hard as I could. As I got closer to home plate I saw the catcher preparing to catch the ball so I slid head first. Then there was silence then the umpire shouted “safe”.

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.

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

“Right guy, right time!” My dad blurts out, as I dig my left foot into the batter’s box. The count is now 2-2, a pitcher’s count, knowing that I need to be extremely cautious on the next pitch, because if I miss read the ball, I would let everyone down. By the time the pitcher starts his motion I couldn’t be more excited, but nervous at the same time. I’m able to quickly tell that the pitch was a fastball right down the pipe, I put everything I had into that swing, a rip the ball into deep right-center field. The ball takes one bounce and hits the fence. So I take off, like I was being chased by some lions in the African safari. I swing out wide, as my first base coach orders me to go two. As I approach second base I look to see where the ball

Running back and forth on and off the field, trying to score as many runs as each side could when batting. Then when it came to defense, we tried our best to not let the Braves score any runs. Around the top of the fourth inning is when it all started. I was up to bat. The first pitch came in, I swung the bat and the ball escalated into the air, landing out by the fence in the right center gap. I was running as fast as I could to at least get to second base. I slid into the bag and the umpire yelled, “Safe!” I was super excited and my adrenaline was pumping like no other. I was so anxious to score it was unreal. Now there was one out, I’m still on second base. Cora Blume is up to bat, and kills a line drive into the left center gap. When a line drive is hit usually you get off halfway or at least enough where if they drop the ball you can make it to the next base, or you can get back if they catch it. Next thing I know the girl makes an

I told myself, "come on Lina you can do it," next thing I knew it was two strikes and three balls. it's now or never Lina strike three the ball was over the fence and into the street but it was as if it turned around and headed right for me I put my glove up and felt something hard hit my hand I caught the ball but it was already too late the girl already hit a grand slam(she got four people in including herself)my eyes started burning I tried to hold them back some very strange back but I felt something sliding down my cheek I ran into the dugout and I could not stop my feet. I got to my mom I held her like there was no going back, all I felt was a warm body hugging me. I slowly looked up and cried "I don't want to play I disappointed my hole team."

Some people just think softball is as simple as someone swinging a stick, hitting a ball, and trying to get back to where they started. They don’t see what softball really means to someone like me. Someone who has dedicated their life just to be able to play on that field at a certain level. Someone who wants to go to college and play the sport that they love. Well, I play softball because of the love I have for the sport.

The glare is no longer in my eyes and I can finally see and I look at the pitcher, I get in my stance, take a deep breath and then I don't hear anything. I hear no cheering, no chants, no yelling. All I can hear is the slap of the glove, all I can see is the dirty green softball coming fast down the line. My eyes narrow in, I shift my weight and swing. "CRACK!" was the noise from the ball making perfect contact with the ball I start running around the bases and so do my teammates. I don't even pay attention to where the ball is I just keep running. Rounding second base I look up at my coach and he is jumping up and down yelling for me to slide into home so down I go knocking the catcher down with me. I get up to my teammates running out and tackling me back down to the ground with

I’ve played baseball for as long as I can remember I was an average baseball player not one that would get a hit every time I stepped up to the plate. I remember stepping up to the plate sweat dripping off my helmet and the palms of my hands were sweating. As I got ready for the pitch I thought to myself why am I overthinking this. I swung and missed at the first pitch. I could feel my heart pounding and my stomach was starting to hurt. I swung and missed again I heard strike two. For a second I thought I got this. The next pitch I hit far but it was just foul. I could hear my teammates screaming go Alex. Then I swung and missed strike three and I walked with my head down back to the dugout. For the rest of the day I didn’t want to talk to

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

I was on the mound, looking at the catcher’s mitt, while the hitter got into the box and took his stance. The home plate umpire yelled, “Play ball!” I started my windup, left leg back, turn the right foot parallel to the mound, lift the front leg, and drive. I released the ball, and I watched it travel through the air towards the plate. You could hear the ball smacked the catcher’s glove, and the umpire yelled, “Sttrriiikkkee one!”

I could hear the players out in the field for red and the players on the bench yelling, encouraging the pitcher. The blue team dugout was very quiet. The pitcher started his delivery and the pitch came in. I took a hack, and just got a piece of it. I’m still alive, I thought. The next pitch came in, again I took a swing, and it was a good one. I watched the ball fly over the

As I stepped up to the plate in the final inning of the baseball game, my primary focus was finding a way to score the runner on second base for the game-winning run. Second base is only 120 short feet away from home plate, so I thought this would be easy. To do it, I would have to hit the ball into the outfield and have it land on the ground without it being caught by a defender. I had already gotten two hits in three at bats earlier in the game, and I knew that nothing would be sweeter than to finish it off with a game-winning hit. The biggest, baddest, and fastest-throwing pitcher around was on the mound for the rival team; I knew he would give me everything he had to get me back from the last at bat. The intensity of the moment had my heart beating like a drum. The first pitch missed outside; the second pitch missed inside. As I went up 2—0 in the count, I could see the frustration on the pitcher’s face. They called him “Big Red”, and that overgrown eighth grader gave me a look as if he wanted to kill me. I found this hilarious, which fueled his fire. My baseball knowledge helped me to determine that I would be watching the next pitch go by, ball or strike. Then, it happened. “Crack!” The third pitch, delivered at 75 mph, came inside on me and shattered the backside of my right hand. The alarming noise took the air out of the crowd (especially my mom) as I fell to the ground. As I laid on the ground, the crowd was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.