Wiffleball Monologue

Buttercup experiences a realization on page 171. She has just been captured by three men who plan to kill her. Than a fourth man comes to her rescue. As he runs away with her she gets suspicious, so she pushes him down the ravine. As he is lying there he takes off his mask revealing his true self. This is where Buttercup realizes her true love has come for her, so she jumps down the ravine to be with him. This shows us something about Buttercup’s character; she will go to the extreme for her true love. Buttercup no longer has to marry the prince, so she can follow her heart and marry Westley.

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

Hi im john, i like to golf and like dogs. I'm from the U.S. i’m gonna golf at the Olympics. I feel nervous but confident about my event. My competitions names are Joe, Thomas, Ryan,David,William,my friend Jack,and Jeff.they had a good run against other people now they have to go against each other. Their practicing their swings and teeing off. I am gonna try to get a lot of pars some birdies and gonna try for an eagle. Maybe a hole in one. We start and I start off incredible by getting a birdie on the first hole. Then it gets intense on the 5th hole. Goes back and forth and my position right now, I’m in 4th place so i have to put up some competition for my competitors i make a comeback at the 10th hole. Hopefully i get to 2nd place at least.

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

The pitcher tries to put me out of his mind, but he can’t because I’m 60 feet away. He may have the mound to his advantage, but nothing will stop me from achieving this goal. I assess the field. There are runners on all the bases, the outfielders are playing back to prevent any extra base hits, and we’re down by 2 runs. I smooth out the dirt where my foot land, I make it smooth and the perfect landing spot for my foot, and step into the box. Everything must be perfect. I take a deep breath. I must stay calm. In...out. I sway my bat towards him and back into my pre-pitch position. My hands are relaxed but ready to unleash the violence of a baseball swing.

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,

“I knew he had to throw me a good pitch with a 3-1 count.” Ashline said, “I got my pitch and wanted to put it in play, because I knew he could score if it reached the outfield.

Only being the bat boy, Stanton had to bring his equipment to the ballpark everyday and go hit in the batting cages before the team showed up. Stanton thought to himself, “Why is coach asking me to swing in batting practice today? He has never done that once since I became the bat boy.” Stanton walked back onto the field and stepped into the batter’s box. Before Stanton even took a swing, he looked at the beautiful Marlins Park. Straight ahead was the bright, colorful outfield walls that were painted green. Stanton soaked in the atmosphere. While the batting practice pitcher went to throw the first pitch to Stanton, Johnny Field, the Marlins seventh round draft pick said, “Come on coach! You’re giving the bat boy a couple swings? Ha-ha that’s funny.” Just as Field finished his sentence, Scotty Stanton crushed the first pitch he saw into the left-center field gap, landing at an estimate four hundred feet. Coach Mattingly said, “Sit your ass down Field, we should have drafted this kid over you!” Stanton gave Mattingly a smile. Stanton continued to punish balls, smashing them all over Marlins Park. To others, it was just batting practice, but to Stanton, it meant more. It felt as if he had the game of baseball back in his life. When Stanton’s round was over, the Marlins players were impressed, besides the envious Johnny Field. One Marlins player even told Mattingly that this kid needs to be in the lineup. Mattingly

At the end of the eighth inning we pick up the game with Kansas City leading the Minnesota Twins one to zero. Steve, sitting on the bench in the corner with a towel over his head in the Kansas City Royals dugout as his team is batting in the eighth inning, has thoughts that go back to his Little League days when his father Joe Ballard would say. “Don’t worry about the batter, play pitch and catch with the catcher. That’s how to win a game from the pitcher’s mound.”

PAR1 was playing in a local softball tournament. He stepped up to bat and hit a single. As the next batter came up PAR1 took a generous lead off first base. The batter then hit the ball into the outfield and PAR1 took off like a rocket. PAR1 was nearing second base when the ball was overthrow allowing PAR1 to proceed to third. Just as PAR1 was halfway between third and second base the catcher picked up the ball and throw it to the third baseman. Instantly PAR1 made a b-line for the second base, and found himself in a pickle situation. While the third baseman threw to the second baseman PAR1 revered his direction and went back for his attempt at third. At the same time the second baseman threw to third baseman, just a little high making the

Now in the 1st inning, with 2 outs, he makes a diving stop to get the third out. End of the inning. He is up to bat in the bottom of the first inning with runners on 2nd and 3rd, one out. Here comes the pitch… BOOM! That ball hit him right in the small of the back. He is down and he’s not getting back up. The home team might have lost their star infielder in the 1st inning, but no, he gets up and walks to first base. Bases loaded, one out.

The author also briefly puts in the story of the New York Yankees' second baseman Chuck Knoblauch, who developed sports "shocking" while playing in front of thousands of fans, Knoblauch had trouble throwing the ball to first base, while stressing Knoblauch found himself reverting to explicit mode, throwing like a Little Leaguer again", as the author said in pg. 267 (last paragraph)

I was getting very nervous, because all three of us were hitless today. Okay, we need base runners, and we need them now. Don’t try to do too much, just get a hit. I thought. The first pitch was a fastball right down the middle of the plate, a perfect pitch to hit. My eyes got big, and my mind said swing, but before I could react, the ball was past me.