Sunday Afternoon Games : Creative Writing : Sunday Afternoon Games

One day, on the Bell School playground, as we usually did, gathered by the small, new blue bench with holes like an air vent in it, selecting teams. Then, Seth stood up on the bench waving his hands and shouting in that annoying, shrill voice. “Everyone listen up, listen up!” When the murmur

They didn’t respond. They moved up since they kneeled it and called ‘hike’. I was ready to intercept it. They did a hook pass and got a decent five or seven yards before my team tackled them.They marched across the yard and scored a touchdown. Finally, we can show them what we’re all about. We got the ball and I ran it in for a touchdown from the kick off.

“We are pleased to have the Raymond Park Middle School Rangers at our home turf!” the announcer bellowed as my team ran onto the field as ready as we would ever be to play our opponents.

Now all we had to do was wait for the coach to talk to us one by one letting us know if we made the team. All the sophomores went first, and when he got done talking to the sophomores it was time for the freshman to find out. Nobody knew who made it yet and who got cut because after he was done talking, you would go out through the locker room. So with all of us nervous we let Anthony go first because we thought if Anthony made it, we had some pretty high chances of making the team. After Anthony was done, he came up the stairs with a giant smile and a fist pump that got everyone excited. “Atta boy Berg,” we all shouted at once.

Tidewater Titans baseball team was at its highest peak and we had been unstoppable. Coach Derrick, Coach Tony, Coach Perry, and Coach Darren had all led the team to multiple championships that year. Ever since the beginning, there had always been a problem with Coach Derrick. He had always thought his kid, Grayson was better than the rest. Grayson had taken my position at shortstop in my batting position and the line up. I was left to second base the second less likely place the ball could get hit too.

Walking out onto the opponent’s brightly lit turf field setting up for the kickoff of the second half just gave me the feeling that everybody knows, my hair starts to stand up, butterflies began to flutter in my stomach, and everything seems to slow down. Looking into the stands and seeing that our hometown fans had traveled four hours in order to outdo the home crowd gave me a sense of comfort. Looking into East Jefferson’s stands and seeing that our fans, despite having to travel all the way down south, outnumbered their fans by at least 70 people. I found myself thinking that this meant just as much to our town as it did to our school and team. This feeling would be just the motivation we needed in order to finish this game

The next game was early in the morning against region 3 who is known to have some of the best players around nut after the end of the 2nd period we were tied 3-3. “Lets rush the the nat and try to score”, Matt our top scorer said. “No, let's just stay in our own zone and just play defence and not then them score. after we see a weakness we just rush ahead and attack!” said Joe, another player on the team. I didn’t think much of Joe and I voted for Matt’s idea. I shouldn't have. The nest period we got swept off our feet the the south in the dust bowl. We lost

“HONK!” The ref blew his whistle, “Get your spots on the field, we ain't got all day, we are wasting sunlight.”

We had traveled in the minivan for 5 hours, for a group of 13 year old boys this trip felt like eternity. However, our excitement kept us all jaunting to each other about silly middle school shenanigans, who can dougie better, and how we were all going to “murk” this tryout. Johnny Evans, Malik Chatman, Gavin Rose, Ronnie Fountain, and I were all selected to try-out for the 14u Team South football team. This team would represent all the best players in the southeast and clash them against other regions best athletes. This would be a 3 day try-out. After leaving Orlando, the van had finally reached its destination. Coach Rose jingled to the car “Atlanta is the place to be, with orange peaches and southern tea,” we all stared at Gavin as his face turned as red as a Crayola. We pulled into the lot of the hotel all participating athletes had been assigned right off of I-75. We all unloaded the van of our luggage proceeded to the check in, Coach got the keys for room 325 and 326. I was so tired of riding in back of the van that I did not really care how the room would look as long as I could put my bags down and fall right into the bed. Malik, Johnny and I entered our room 326 to the right was with a bathroom sink, a mirror, and shower. On the left, a mini kitchen with a stove, island table, and refrigerator. In front of us, there were two wooden dressers pinned together with a television on top. Near the window, there was a small table with a lamp as well as chair in the corner.

right here.” “The game is about to start. We got to go.” The announcer said,

I thought we were playing a good game. But Bartlett was catching us on the scoreboard. So we all played even harder. In the third quarter ‘I missed two layups and then got fouled and got two free throws.’I missed the first

His little legs churned as fast as they could driving him straight at his opponent. I sensed Matthew wasn’t too sure of himself since he had never expressed any confidence playing our football games or in practices; but this time, the young defender responsible for guarding him was smaller, and Matt had the advantage. He staccato stepped and faked running to the right just as we had planned. His opponent accepting the feigned shift, ran in the misdirection. Suddenly, Matt was all alone in the end-zone; and the football, a perfectly thrown pass designed for Matt, was spiraling toward his small opened hands. The ball hit his palms and bounced skyward, but Matt quickly reached up and grabbed the football securing his touchdown. The families in the stands cheered, and Matt returned to the sideline with a smile and a little more confidence. I coach Matt’s third grade 7 on 7 football team, and this is my third year of competitive football league coaching. Coaching is a luxury I afford myself with my limited free time, and it brings me a lot of satisfaction.

My last name was shouted from my left and my body immediately cascaded from the bench to the bright sideline. The man in the striped shirt waved me over from the other side of the elongated field. This was my chance, all the sweat and tears from preseason would finally pay off. My hand slapped my team mate that I subbed in for, everything became

Stepping out onto a baseball field, the smell of freshly cut grass, dirt, leather, and sweat swirl together to form a glorious smell, equivalent to the smell of freshly baked cookies to those who love the game as much as I do. “Here we go kiiiiiiid!” a faint voice exclaimed from the home dugout as our pitcher was struggling to get out of a jam. Our bench was known for being the rowdiest and most obnoxious in the conference. We chirped at pitchers, batters, fielders, coaches, anyone from the other team, trying to get in their heads. We “rattled” pitchers, questioned umpires, and frustrated batters. The only problem with this mental game that we played, is that it wasn’t just played between us and our opponent. It was also played between my teammates and I.

As the whole team walks towards the field, the crowd gets up and begins to clap. A rush of excitement lit up in our eyes. Our coach was waiting for us at our team bench. The coach’s eyebrows narrowed, and he had glaring eyes. He stood silent for a couple of seconds then turned to us. “Stretch!” our coach commanded us. The team captains walked towards the center of our group to lead the rest. The strong wind whistled in our ears as we stretched. The wind also made the grass move and stretch with us. We were told to run a lap, and so we did. The coach then blew his whistle, which