The Bottom Of The 9th

Decent Essays

Bottom of the 9th. Two outs. Crack! A shallow fly ball in the air a few feet behind me, I quickly turned around to sprint and catch the ball. I’m looking up as I attempted to track the ball in the blinding Saturday morning sun and bang! As I became encompassed in darkness, my seemingly lifeless body hit the ground. I blacked out for fifteen seconds. I was then helped up by a fellow teammate. The first words to leave my lips were “Did he catch it?” I looked up, but rather than seeing cheerful teammates and fans, I saw faces of dismay. Rather than celebrating or saying “Good game” to the opposing team, I see my coaches sprinting out to check on me. I was stumbling off the field being held up by two teammates as if I were a drunk teenager on New Year’s Eve. They sat me down on the cold metal bench so I could regain my balance. As I began to leave, I was approached by the trainer. “How you feeling sweetie?” “Fine,” I replied “Just a little dizzy.” She then began to test me for a concussion. She asked me to complete a set of tasks, basic concussion protocol, such as stand on one foot, remember these words, and walk in a straight line. I passed the test with flying colors. “Looks like you’re good to go, just a little bump,” she said. Little did she know it was more than just a “little bump.” This “little bump,” would change my life forever. We had another game later that day because we were in a tournament, so the team went back to school to order pizza and hang out for a

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