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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.
Baseball was always something my grandpa and I bonded over. Every day after school I would go to my grandparents house to wait for my dad to come pick me up from work. I was so eager to
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get off the bus. A huge smile would rush across my face as I ran inside. My grandma would make me a snack but my main focus was running over to my grandpa to watch and talk about baseball. Each day I went there was the same, my grandpa and I sitting on the couch watching baseball. A different game was on each day and even if it was a replay of an old game, I was excited to watch and learn something new. While we watched I would learn about the game because my grandpa was always explaining what was going on. And sometimes when I asked too many questions he would interrupt me and say “hey you, be quiet and listen”. He taught me that just listening to the announcers could teach me a lot as well. Watching baseball with my grandpa was one of my favorite things to do. We would always watch it at his house and sometimes we would even go to Busch Stadium to watch the Cardinals play live. On the way to the seats we could smell the burnt hot dogs from a mile away and we always had to make the stop. It was a must. During every game it seemed like he believed he was the manager of the Cardinals. He always told me what they should do in certain situations, who he would play, and why one player was better than another. Sometimes a player would hit a weak ground ball and get called out and my grandpa would say “get em outta here, he’s no good!” It was amusing to listen to him critique every little thing that the Cardinals did. As I got older and more competitive in baseball my grandpa would try to come to as many of my games as he could.
My face was full of excitement when seeing him slowly make his way to the field to watch me. Every time he came I felt like I had to play the best game of my life, I loved it and it was a huge motivation. Whether it was me trying to strike everyone out when I was pitching or trying to hit a homerun every time I was batting, I wanted to show off my skills to my grandpa. My dad was the coach of my baseball team so I would always beg him to let me pitch when I knew that my grandpa was coming. Sometimes before I threw a pitch, I would glance over at the stands to make sure he was watching me, and he always was. His focus was on me the entire game. Every time I looked over at him he was in the same position, hunched over with a serious look on his face almost as if he was a scout that came to see me play. I loved when he could watch me pitch and my favorite part of the game was when it was over and he would tell me “great game!” (even if it wasn’t that
great). On October 4th 2007, just 20 days before my birthday, my grandpa passed away at 92 years old. I was devastated. It was ironic that he died on October 4th because I remember my grandpa would never say goodbye to anyone. He would always say “10-4” from the old saying “10-4 good buddy” that he used to say in the military when he understood an order. I cried and cried for as long as I could remember. I had lost one of my best friends and my favorite person on the planet. While playing today I like to keep him with me out on the field. It's a different feeling without seeing him there. I wish so badly that he could still come watch me today, but I know even though I can’t see him, he’s watching. Every time I pitch, before the inning starts, I drag my finger through the dirt on the mound and write his initials, “BD” (Ben Dicker) and I underline it. With a glance and a smile at his initials I whisper “let's do this” and I continue to pitch.
when I was ten years old I lost my grandpa, it was a very bad experience for me but it made me stronger. I remember when he taught me how to catch a baseball, ride a bike, mow the lawn and a lot of other things that I will forever cherish in my heart. the memory I will never forget though is when he taught me everything I needed to know about baseball. we would always go outside together and he would do certain agilities with me to build my stamina, teach me how to catch a pop-fly and he would work on pitching with me which is actually one of my main position that I play today. baseball was a big part of my grandpas life and he always wanted me to play In the major leagues. once he passed away my motives for playing in the major leagues increased.
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.
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.
I started playing baseball right after I moved to Virginia, coming from California. At first I wasn’t that good, because I was only six years old at that time, but it was okay, because the other six-year old were not much better than me. It was the first time I was to play a sport, and it turned out to be my only sport later in
As soon as I started high school, my goal was to play college baseball. I played baseball for a very competitive select club that traveled out of town every week from Thursday through Sun as well as practicing every Tuesday and Wednesday. All through high school, I sacrificed my free time in the summer to prepare myself for college baseball. After receiving offers from four year universities as well as junior colleges, I decided that a junior college would provide me the best opportunity to continue to develop as a player. Even though I decided I wanted to play at a junior college, I wanted the experience of going away to college and living in a dorm so I decided to attend a junior college in Iowa where they had dorms for student athletes. Being ecstatic to be able to go off to college and play baseball was short lived. During the first month of baseball practice, I injured my arm, spent two months in physical therapy with no improvement, and then finally receiving the bad news that I would need surgery to improve. Surgery was performed over Thanksgiving break, but I was now faced with months of physical therapy, which meant
If you have ever met me, or know me, you would know that I love sports, and you would know my favorite sport of all time is baseball, and that my favorite sports team is Boston Red Sox. I am what you call a die-hard Red Sox fan; you can compare me as Red Sox fan to actor Jimmy Fallon’s character in the movie, Fever Pitch. My strong love for the Red Sox comes from my step-dad Phil. Phil has always been like a second father to me since he and my mom got together, back in early 2000s. Phil is always trying to teach and help me learn from my mistakes, and I have made my share of them. Nevertheless, I also cherish the moments I spend with him at Red Sox games. The experiences I have at Red Sox games are moments in my life, I will never forget, that I will always remember, One game in particular I most remember is my first Red Sox game at Fenway Park.
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 baseball as long as I can remember. My dream ever since I was little was to win a State Championship in high school. Baseball is the only sport that I could literally play every day and not get tired of it. I told myself that I would never give up my dream of playing baseball as long as I live.
The announcer began announcing our team to start the introduction for the game. Since I was the lead-off batter, my name was echoed over the park first. It was at this time that the feeling elevated; the feeling that makes every baseball field so special. As my teammates yelled for me, while I ran to the nearest baseline and faced the crowd, the feeling gave me goose bumps and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. The feeling is so amazing that it will keep me playing baseball for as long as possible because it makes my love for the sport that much more. I can't even begin to explain the complex feeling I get when I walk on a baseball field, but that feeling will always be cherished and hopefully when I pass on my love of baseball to others, they will too understand what that special diamond makes me feel like.
It’s the biggest game of the year. If the Tampa Bay Rays win they make the playoffs, if they lose they go home and watch the playoffs from their couch. You couldn’t help but feel the unsettling butterflies in your stomach like your world can come crashing and burning at any moment. I remember the day I was told that my grandfather was in the hospital. I wasn’t sure what he was in there for and my family didn’t know how serious his condition was. I was nervous. I didn’t like the fact that my grandfather was cooped up in a small and repulsive room with none of us knowing what was going on. We soon found out that he developed lung cancer.
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.
With seconds to spare I arrived at batting practice and began to prepare for my game. I hear coach call out my name and as I he acknowledged that I was there he told me I was pitching. My brain shifted and went into a whole new mode, I was more focused and more determined than I have ever been. This was the biggest baseball game of my career and I 'm starting on the mound. Honestly it couldn 't have turned out any better, the fate of the pin and my team lied in my hands and I loved the pressure. The pressure made me thrive and before I knew it our team was marching onto the field for the national anthem. During the singing of the national anthem I peeked into the crowd and first row down the first base side was the little boy I met on the cart and his dad sitting right next to him. This game was for that little boy, I needed to impress him. I pitched six strong innings and my team ended up winning the game. It was the most exciting game of my career and the best part was being greeted with the best pin in the tournament after such a spectacular win. The little boy ran out into the middle of the field where we shook our opponents hands and in front of everyone in the stadium handed me the only thing I cared about besides winning. I was in the best mood for the rest of the day and I rewarded myself with a nice long sleep. I could only image what the next day had to
One day, a ninja named Chase was training at the ninja academy. Master Rowan called Chase for a meeting. Rowan said, “The prophecy says you are the next gold ball master.”
When I turned six years old I was old enough to play on a Little League team, and my father volunteered to be the coach. He worked long hours but always found enough time to dedicate to the team. At first our team was not very good, but that would soon change. My father practiced us hard every week and by the end of the season we made the playoffs. Even though we did not win the Championship that year, our team had reason to be proud. We won a few games, and we had a lot of fun, thanks to my dad. I played baseball for a total of ten years, and he was my coach for at least half of them.