“We’re here,” my dad says and I know i’m in for the week of my life. It’s july 4th and we get to play baseball. We have finally arrived in cooperstown New York for a week long tournament. You play 6 pool play games then come the playoffs. You don’t sleep in a hotel though you stay with your team in cabins. Pool play started the next day. Our team was pumped for this tournament and in pool play we ended up 5-1. That put us in 5th overall of 106 teams. Then came the playoffs. In the playoffs we made it to the semis. We played the best team, they’re from California. We ended up losing 5-2 so we went to the 3rd vs 4th game. The team and I, won that game 1-0. It felt good to come all the way from New Jersey and take 3rd out of 106 teams. We ended
up staying for the finals just to watch and then stay over that night. When we woke up we played wiffle ball on the fields because we didn’t have to check out until 6 P.M. I wish I could go back there more than anything.
The warm summer evening. The butterflies in the stomach. The determination and desire to win. This is a moment that many young men experience - Little League Baseball. But, unfortunately, schools lacking funding are looking to cut costs by getting rid of youth sports. That is when Dick’s Sporting Goods, a company with resources to bring attention to this problem, steps up to bat. Their message is effective through the emotional and ethical tie it creates in the audience through the story of a young man who overcomes tragedy through succeeding on the baseball diamond. Relying heavily on pathos and ethos, this message touches the hearts of the audience, calling them to step up as well.
America, and the world love sport; there are hundreds of types, but the one thing that links them all together is the emotion. For players and fans alike, the emotional involvement with the game is what draws them to it; and for Americans, there is one sport in particular that ignites their passion – baseball. Baseball has been called “America’s pastime” for a reason; the suspense, drama, and pride wrapped up in this game have captivated generations. The poem, “Casey at the Bat” effectively captures the emotion tied into the sport of baseball. “Casey at the Bat” is a poem about the last inning of a Mudville baseball game. The team is down two points, and the first two of their batters had already been sent back to the dugout. However, luck seemed to be on their side, the next two batters reached base, and the best hitter on the team was up to bat; Casey. The confident-cocky Casey let the first two balls go by; both were strikes. Then the last pitch came, the crowed held their breath as Casey took a swing; and to quote the poem, “but there is no joy in Mudville -- mighty Casey has struck out.” There are two distinct psychological personalities present in this poem; these emotional beings are the audience and Casey. The actions and words of both shed light on each others personality and mental state during that final, historical inning.
As I lay on my bed, that night I could still hear the umpire calling “ballgame” and solidifying victory and our mark on Mountain Grove Softball history. The adrenaline and excitement of the moment were still running through my veins as my mind started to drift. I soon found myself thinking of
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 we had to do was beat a team we had beat numerous times before and then we would be in the finals. Easy right? So we thought. Going into that game I did not expect to feel the heartbreak that I did when it ended. Finally, game day had arrived; in the first inning, things seemed to be going as planned, we were up five or six runs. By the fourth inning, we were down nine to five and it only went downhill from there. My heart started to ache and the feeling of frustration flew through my body. As the ninth inning rolled around we were still losing and we could not get it
It was the summer of 1983. Enthusiastic children from all walks of life gathered together at the baseball diamonds to be split up into different little league teams. "This was it", I thought as I patiently waited for my name to be called. I scanned the competition, keeping an eye out for anyone who shared the same love for the game as I did. Upon completing a thorough investigation, I determined that there were only a select few who would challenge my "self-imposed" all star credentials. The majority of the kids, it seemed, were only there because their parents couldn't afford summer camp.Then the moment arrived. "David Ramos, you'll be playing for Tobers this year", the lead organizer called out. I stuck my...
I looked in their faces and knew mine mirrored theirs. I didn’t want it to, but it did. Just ten minutes ago, we all were so jubilant. We were so sure we were going to win. We had all wanted it for so long, but we finally felt is as our destiny just a few moments ago. But as our opponent threw the ball in the air, I knew she was just about to serve another ace. However, when the ball landed three feet in front of our best passer, something snapped inside of me.
So after coming out with a win in the semi final game we went out to eat as a whole team and that's what we do as american culture. Also our championship game did not start for a couple hours later and also we got to go out to eat a lot because we are american and that's what we do as american culture. Some of my teammates names are named Juan Alonso, Jackson Williams, Nick Lancaster, Preston Harrison, Tristan Taylor, Connor Pennycook, Cole Person, Alex Tan, Jordan Stutzman, and Dj Berliner. So in warmups before the championship game our star player Juan Alonso got injured and did not play the championship game because he had rolled his ankle. So as we warmed up we had to put our backup shortstop in named Jackson
Sports play a very important role in my life ever since I could walk. My interests in playing sports began at the age of three as my parents signed me up for soccer, flag football, basketball, and lacrosse. First grade started my competitive edge as I began to play for travel teams in various sport tournaments. This competitive edge transferred from the sports field to the classroom having teachers and coaches helping me be the best I can be. Sports have continually well-shaped and defined my character by teaching me how to accept a win from working hard, also how a loss is an opportunity to learn and fix mistakes.
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’ve played football for nine years now, and participated in over 85 games. I’ll openly admit that practices got to be the most dreaded part of my day by the time my senior year rolled around, nonetheless gameday’s never became wearisome. The miserable as well as submissive game day nerves can keep you from eating, thinking straight, and also make relaxing an unattainable task. Yet, as I sit here pondering back on football season, I’d treasure the displeasure of those nerves just one final time.
On sun hot sweaty summer afternoon school Bats gloves gum sunflower seeds are packed in the bag for a ready victor game on the field of cold hard dust. When I walk to dugout I see my victor team in the dugout.When I first walk up to the cold dirt and dust home plate.As pictch warms up on pictching at the catch.As is done I walk up to home plate.Woshe!clunk! As I make a pop up.On the grizzlies they almost caught my pop up but they drop it on the ground. Cluk!Cluk!Cluk!Cluk!Cluk!As I run fast on my high knees and I slid to the first base.As my team mates chear for me. Jack is up to bat for my team.My other team is watching Jack in side of the dugout Jack hits a home run in the dirt of the parking lot.When me and Jack trotted to dugout the team
I looked forward to games, since I had played about every inning from Little League through sophomore year, and that became the status quo. So, in my junior year, at the start of the varsity season, with the snow from the long New England winter finally melted, I was ready. There was a senior who was already a skilled first baseman, but the cleats were on, my glove was ready. I had worked hard in the off-season, done well in practice and intra-squad scrimmages and looked forward to showing off my skills. On Opening Day, I sat. Then the next game, I sat. And so it began, the out-of-my-control waiting. Glancing over to first base, a range of unfamiliar emotions washed over me. Watching my team struggle defensively and offensively, with seemingly every ball going into the opposing mitt, while bright yellow numbers ticked up onto the visitor’s part of the scoreboard. I could only wait. Emotions of confusion, bitterness, and anxiety consumed me. The season wore on: another bus ride, another game, another
Boarding the bus to school it was another hot, sticky humid, August day. Without being able to sleep at all the night before from being very anxious and excited I was all but energized. Throughout the day class had drug on, nearly falling asleep first period, my teacher yells, ‘Logan are you with us today?’. Picking my head up off the desk I replied and quickly got back onto the task at hand. I had never really been able to follow along in math too well. However today was a different kind of day, today was my very first middle school football game. Throughout the halls you would have saw all the football players wearing their white jerseys and jeans. Our coach being a strict, military style coach, admired the fact that all players must match on game day on
Since I came to ETSU last year I was dying to go the first football game of the season. So I couldn’t wait to get my ticket to the first home game of the year. Monday morning I was outside getting my ticket. I waited in line, sitting in the morning cold outside of the Culp Center for about 30 minutes just to get my tickets. My friends walked by me in line asking what I was doing. I said with glee in my voice, “getting my ticket!”