My home baseball team didn’t win the world series in a 108 years. I said to myself this is the year it’s all going to go down. The Chicago cubs made it so far in the season this year and worked so hard they finally made it into the world series. I watched all the games in the series that each had their ups and downs, but not one of them was as big of a nail biter as this one. It had all come down to this game.
I stared in awe as I saw the glistening field. The sun was shining bright and there was a fresh breeze that filled me with all the hope a six year old could have. It was a perfect day, the kind of day that would have made Picasso paint. In my situation, this day gave me confidence, I wanted to learn more about this rollercoaster ride of emotion by the name of baseball. The sign up, the practice, the boys, the fail.
The Boston Red Sox were three games down. The Red Sox had to win the next four games to advance. Fans were worried. Boston had not won a World Series since 1918. No team had ever come back in the playoffs from a three-game deficit.
The count was 2-1, I was up to bat. The score was 5 to 4, in the bottom of the 9th inning. The pitcher lifts up one leg and twirls his body, releasing the baseball. I ponder my next move, as I see the ball accelerated towards me. I get in position, swing, and let it rip.
The Ballpark was filled with tons and tons of hungry and enthusiastic children. The aroma of cotton candy roared like lions and made their mouths water like an open spring. Paying for a bag of cotton candy is like highway robbery, but is especially pleasing as it melts like a burning candle pleading for water. Children impatiently beg for more and more food and demand a fan favorite dessert known as Dippin Dots!
Summative assessment Task: Creative writing Title: The Last Pitch Word count: 634 Statement of intent: I am going to write a creative piece of writing to try and develop a memory into a new sense of environment and create a new feeling for this particular memory. I will use language features to help and re-create this memory.
I have dreamed the same dream for as long as I can remember. I can picture it, clear as day. I am at the ballpark, standing in the owner's box in late October. I am, like the other team executives around me, on my feet with bated breath. We watch as the team we spent years building records the final out to clinch a World Series Championship.
Leading off of first base, heart racing, twiddling my fingers and off I go. Long quick strides getting closer to my 23rd stolen base. But suddenly, tumbling down I go halfway to second base. Screaming from the gruesome pain on my knee, off the field to the disabled list I went. A “torn meniscus “were the words that led me to put me belief into practice once again in my life.
Blood, Sweat, and Tears The crowd is screaming, two teams chanting, my heart is beating so fast as I squat behind home plate, and then I hear the umpire yell, “Play ball!” from behind me. Lone Grove has, once again, made it to the Class 4A Fastpitch Regional Tournament.