On an unseasonably warm day in the spring, several of my friends and I were outside enjoying a game of backyard baseball. We usually never had enough players for a full team and today was no exception. The eight of us were split into two teams of four. We had played this game many times before. On this particular day, I noticed a girl from my junior high-class as she rode by on her bicycle on the adjoining street. Her long sandy blonde hair was almost the full length of her back. It was gently blowing in the wind as she rode past us. She had dark blue cut-off jeans and a fluffy peasant blouse as white as the first winter snow. She rode past, but I noticed her looking my way as she went by. If only I could meet her was my first thought after …show more content…
She wasn't shy at all. In fact, I could hardly get a word out at all. She talked enough for both of us. I loved it. We were a match from the start. In just a few minutes, I knew where she lived, that she had an older sister and her mom's name was Birdie. Before she left, she even invited me over to her parents' house for our very first date. We were both fifteen, so dating was fairly new to both of us. We exchanged phone numbers before she left. A few hours later, I called Renee on the phone. We did not have cell phones when I was a teenager. I had to finish our game with my friends before I could go home to call. Renee had talked to her mother about our date. Her mother told her that we could go to church with her on Sunday. I could come to her house after church and eat lunch with her family. That would be our very first date. I agreed to go to church. They would pick me up at 8:30 a.m. Her sister would drive us all to church on Sunday. Well now, this should be an easy first date. A nice quiet morning sitting in church while singing hymns, listening to a sermon, and studying the Holy Bible. I was a little worried about meeting her dad. I just imagined hi sitting in his chair, cleaning his gun, looking at me, and saying, "What do you want with my daughter,
I love baseball. I love to play baseball and read baseball comics. I have read a lot of Japanese baseball comics, and almost all Japanese baseball comics’ heroes were fastball pitchers. This comic’s hero was a typical typed pitcher in Japanese baseball comics. He could throw the fastest fastball in his team, and became the ace pitcher of his team when he was a freshman.
During the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, Major League Baseball, much like the majority of other American institutions, was racially segregated. A color barrier was implemented during baseball’s infancy in order to separate people of different race to cater to the white American players. The color barrier was an unofficial “rule” that hindered those with dark skin from playing baseball for Major League teams. The color barrier was enforced by preventing any teams with a colored player from competing at the professional level. Many team owners, umpires, and players justified their opposition to allowing blacks to play by declaring that only whites could uphold the "gentlemanly character" of professional baseball. Others argued that excluding blacks would prevent future racial resentment between the ethnicities, as players of different races would be competing for the same job opportunities.
Several summers ago, I made my first All-Star baseball team for a local little league. When I heard that I was picked, I was overwhelmed with happiness. A lot of my friends and teammates in years past had made the team, but never me. I was finally selected by the head coach of the All-Star team, and considered it quite an honor.
As a kid, I was born and raised to love the great game of baseball. Many young kids have had dreams to become professional athletes, and achieve prestigious awards/ titles. Like many kids I’ve always dreamed of becoming a professional baseball player. As a younger kid with my head in the clouds, I never really knew what it was like to put my actual blood, sweat, and tears into something I loved, until my worst season I had ever played. This whole story starts in the beginning of my ninth grade baseball season. It started out different from every other year because, of course I was a freshman. This was the first year I had ever practiced with the varsity squad, it was much more difficult, but I still figured I was going to do great. After weeks
It all began one day when I was six years old. My dad and I were playing catch at my grandparents house in the yard. I decided that I wanted to pitch so I told my dad to crouch down like a catcher. As I began to pitch I would try to imitate my favorite pitcher at the time, Cardinal starter, Chris Carpenter. My grandpa would sit in a chair by the window and watch me throw. After throwing a few pitches my grandpa decided that he wanted to come outside. With his walker, he made his slow walk outside to get a closer look at me. “I think we’ve got something here” he said to my dad as I continued to pitch. From that moment on, I always wanted to pitch in front of him just to listen to what he would have to say about me.
The first time in which baseball was referred to as “the National Pastime” came from a New York newspaper titled the New York Mercury in 1856. But, this title for baseball came a bit early. Baseball during the time was a New York game played mostly by immigrants. People who were new to America adopted the game as their own, making new baseball clubs, while the Knickerbockers continued to thrive...
All throughout high school I played on the softball team. Proceeding the season before where we went undefeated with a district championship, my senior year we were supposed to be unstoppable. We received a few new players to add on to our army and the entire school was counting on our run to state. I was so excited to have an amazing end to my high school softball career, but unfortunately my dream was cut short when we lost in the first round of districts. I did not know that loss would change me the way it did.
For the past eight years of my life I have been playing softball. It all started when I was eight years old and my dad took me to my first softball practice. I was thrilled to be playing a sport. My dad grew up playing baseball and his sisters played softball so he was ecstatic when I was finally old enough to play. I loved softball for the first 4 years of playing when it was all fun and games. In middle school softball became harder and more competitive and I slowly started to lose interest in it. I thought high school softball would be different; I would love my teammates, make varsity, and all along have a great first season of highschool softball… I was wrong.
I have been playing softball since the age of six. From the time I could walk, my dad had me out in our yard teaching me how to swing a bat and throw a ball. Growing up, softball is all I have known. Both of my parents played softball and baseball growing up and in college. They both have taught me everything they know about the sport. Softball has taught me more than the physical aspect of the game. In softball a player can strike out seven out of ten times and still be considered a good hitter. Everyone has rough days, but I have realized that I just need to come back the next day and work harder. My parents have showed me that working hard at it will help me succeed. Whenever I have a bad game, instead of getting down, I take it as motivation to try harder the next time.
Many people don't understand the point in playing baseball. Why would someone swing a stick, hit a ball, and try to get back to where they started before the ball returns? What pleasure is there in that? Why not participate in a sport like wrestling or track where there is an obvious level of individual improvement and therefore pleasure. Well, I play baseball because of the love I have for the sport, and because of the feeling that overwhelms me every time I walk onto a baseball field. When I walk onto a field I am given the desire to better myself not only as an athlete, but also as a person. The thoughts and feelings I get drive me to work hard towards my goals and to be a better person. The most relevant example of these feelings is when I stepped on the field at Runyon Complex in Pueblo, Colorado during our high school state playoffs in 2003. This baseball field will always be an important place to me.
Softball was my main sport, but I did everything else until it was time to play softball. I fell in love with softball at an early age. I would play every summer or I was asked to play which helped me travel all over the place and meet new friends. Each year I played my love for the sport grew more and more. I played on multiple teams throughout the summer. Playing with one of my teams I gained the advantage to visit Santé Fe, New Mexico two years in a row to play softball. When I reached 8th grade I was excited about playing for the high school softball team until I figured out how it really was. Although I was not happy about having to sit on the bench, but I understood that I had to earn the privilege to play, and that the upperclassman were more seasoned.
Growing up, I have always had a passion for baseball. To me, it is much more than just a sport. There have been times when it has acted as an escape from many problems in my life, as I feel that when I am on the diamond, nothing can hurt me. I am aware that many people feel this way about the sport they love, but sadly their careers often come to an abrupt end due to injury. I have a personal connection to this experience. The summer before my fourth grade year I was attending a basketball camp at Davidson College, when in the final seconds of a scrimmage game, my ankle was kicked out from under me. I immediately fell to the ground in pain as my ankle rolled over on itself. Coaches aided me in limping off of the court and to the training room
A travel of over 3000 miles for some, a 210 mile drive for me, just to arrive at the biggest gathering of over 1,500 twelve year olds; all just to play baseball. The only place that would be suitable for such an event is Cooperstown Dream Parks, every baseball players heaven. Cars have come to Cooperstown from everywhere for this week long tournament. I met children my age from all over the United states. I became friends with kids from Ohio, Illinois, California, I even met a player from Puerto Rico who barely spoke any english. The windows of everyone 's car decorated with the names and numbers of teams and players. Excited baseball teams spill from their Barracks and hustle toward the already crowded seating area. Festive music played over
I was strolling down the hallway, trying to figure out where my class would be, when I bumped into a girl. “Oh goodness! I am so sorry. I wasn 't looking," she said and bent down to grab my file and books even before I could. I sighed and replied, “No, it 's fine." I wiped the sweat, which I had accumulated from walking all over the school, off my forehead. She stood up and handed me my books. I realized she was also a freshman by her orange colored uniform. She flipped her hair and said while grinning," Let me introduce myself. I 'm Natasha. I 'm from Canada so I don 't really know much about this town. How about you?" Even though I had never met her before, I could tell she seemed nice so I introduced myself. I had to make a judgment to decide whether to befriend the girl or not. Little did I know this stranger was
Happy: All right, boy. I’m gonna show you and everybody else that Willy Loman did not die in vain. He had a good dream. It’s the only dream you can have – to come out number-one man. He fought it out here, and this is where I’m gonna win it for him.