Personal Narrative-The Most Dangerous Game

Bam, the runner hit the ball. She dropped the bat and ran to first base. Safe, she kept on running to second. As I watched her run I realize she wasn’t stopping at second, or third. Rounding third base, she sprinted to home plate. But just as she had rounded the base, the ball came sailing in to me. I caught the ball and stood my ground in front of home plate, blocking her path. She charged forward, and slid through the dirt, trying to avoid the tag, but I still got her.

“Out!” the umpire yelled to the crowd.

My team cheered and ran into the dugout after that third out. I was the second person up to bat. The score was 0-2 we were down but we are to hyped up and ready to win this game. The championship.

After the pitcher had her five warm

Then it was my turn to bat. I was so nervous. I had to have a great hit to be able to get on base.

“Come on, you got it.”

“Hit your pitch.” Various members of my team cheered me on.

That was encouragement, enough. I was still nervous but it was lessening. I hate batting after two outs. It made me feel as if I was letting my team down if I got out. The pitcher looked like she was ready to fight. I was too, stepping into the batter 's box and moving the dirt around with the bottom of my cleat. I could smell the food the concession stands were selling. I could hear the sound of people cheering for different teams all around, and I was ready.

I tapped the bat on my heel. The bat struck the dirt, harshly knocking the dirt out of place (personification). I looked back to the pitcher, she was waiting for the catcher give her a sign. Two outs, and no one on. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to turn this game around but I was sure going to try.

The pitcher wound up and released the ball, I didn’t swing.

“Ball!” the umpire shouted loudly.

“Good eye, way to

I stepped in and was immediately ready, I watched the pitch as it left her hand, it was going to be a strike so I swung at it. I missed; I swung too high. I looked out to my coach who was giving me a sign, ‘don’t swing’. The ball was a streak of lightning flying by (metaphor); I didn’t swing, the umpire called it a strike.

“One ball; two strikes,” the umpire said gruffly. He seemed to be getting excited about this game. After all it was the championship game.

I did get out that inning but we still had time on the clock, 5 minutes left. It wasn’t much, but even if we lost, we were going to go down fighting. The first girl to bat was a big muscular girl that had a powerful swing. She didn’t like the outside low pitches, though. That’s where the first one was thrown. Strike, it was a good pitch, right to my glove like a hammer hitting the nail head on (simile). The girl hadn’t swung because she favored higher balls. Two strikes later and a new batter came. She swung, and sent the ball sailing through the air like a bird (simile). It landed between center field and second, she got on base. Next was another larger girl; she was one of their best batters. I didn’t know what she favored or didn’t like, I had to guess based on her body language. I guessed two pitches high inside, one low outside. She was out. Two outs, one runner on base, and half a minute left. We weren’t going to win but it