Narrative Essay On Softball

2218 Words5 Pages

Highlighter yellow with firetruck red stitches looping diagonally on both sides. It measures to 12 inches in circumference and as opposed to its name, it’s not very soft at all. I’ve had many bruises that have proved so: many on my shin from where groundballs hit (sometimes I can still feel a slight indentation on my tibia), getting hit on my upper arms and sides when I got hit with a pitch, and I’ve even encountered a bloody nose or two when the ball came into contact with it. I only have one softball left from when I played. It’s dirty; the yellow has faded from the wear and tear over the years. There are smidges of brown from the field and one of the stitches has come loose. For thirteen years, softball was my life; when I was 18, I decided to stop playing. Most of my gear has been given away since I no longer have use for it. And yet somehow this softball has stood the test of time and sits in my closet, untouched. It was my favorite one; the one I used to practice with whenever I played catch with my mom in …show more content…

My mom had convinced me by saying that my grandma “would have wanted me to do it.” She had passed away the year before. I was apprehensive about playing in a harder, competitive league. I made the youngest team; most of the girls were in the 7th grade. The man in charge of Chi-Town, Coach Mike, had once told me “Cassie Shanks, now that is a softball name.” I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by it, but I took it as a compliment. Chi-Town kicked my butt in the beginning. They taught me how to throw and catch correctly (both hands!), how to turn my body to catch a fly ball, how to pick up a grounder and immediately turn to my side in order to throw it. They taught me discipline and how to work hard to get the results I wanted. It was like what Tom always told me, “practice doesn’t make perfect, it makes

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