Personal Narrative: The Yellow Ball

It was the first game of Baseball season, and I was ready to represent my school on the field. It was the second inning and we were down by one, and it was my turn to bat. I slowly trudged out of the dugout with my team giving words of support as I approached the batter’s box. My head was spinning, for this was my first time to bat in a real game. I turn my head to my coach for some advice, but all I get is the signal to have at it. I enter staring down the pitcher

“4!” I yelled to my outfielder as the runner was running home. The runner was running fast and he was almost at home plate. The outfielder threw the baseball in and hoped the batter would be out as it was the last out of the inning.

When I was younger, I always wanted to be someone famous like a singer, an actress, or even an astronaut. But one day I came across a sport, but this was not just any boring sport to me, it was a sport that I knew I wanted to do for a career or even until I grew old. It might just be a ball and bat to some people but to me it felt more than a sport. It felt like an endless vacation from everything going bad in my life. That sport is softball. But I knew something that felt so wonderful has to have some challenges.

As days pass, the pain begins to subside, the tournament slowly approaching. I tried to imply that I still wanted to play, but they weren 't getting the message. My family and I decided to have a big discussion about whether I would attend the tournament or not. Headstrong, I told them I was playing. “You’re doing WHAT..?” my mother yelled. I attempted to explain how I wasn’t going to let down my team because of one injury. “Baseball is my whole life, mom. Tomorrow is the first tournament game,” I explained, “I will find a way to play.” Me being the stubborn kid I am, I talked them into letting me play. Luckily, the break was on my catching arm, not my throwing arm. After talking to my coach, we came to a compromise. They let me pitch for the start of the games in the tournament, and even bat if my hand was feeling alright! I show up at the tournament fully clothed in my baseball pants and jersey. The smell of stadium hot dogs and sweat filled my mind. My team, unaware of my decision of playing, is in awe. I warm up my pitching arm, throwing to my coach while my team does warm ups. I, tolerantly, practice my batting with my team. Luckily, my hand doesn’t hurt. The expression on my face was much like a child on Christmas

It was the last inning in our all-star game, and we were losing 10 to 8. Our team had 2 outs and we couldn’t get the third. Our pitcher was doing bad, throwing all balls, while all of us in the field were tired, ready to fall asleep at any moment. There goes another walk. They score again. Great! I was thinking. At this point in the game I thought for sure that I would die right there in center field. However, baseball is baseball and things can change rather rapidly.

I was in the hospital. It was June 12, 2017 at Genisys Hospital. My grandma was dead lying in the hospital bed. I was crying for hours and hours. I could not sleep thinking my grandma was dead. The very next day I had a baseball game. It was at Liberty Shores in Linden at around 6:00. I was just shocked I made it to the game and was able to play in it. But I was the first on there because I was really excited and nervous for this game. I was so nervous that I just wanted to play amazing for my grandma.

I was sitting on the bench in the last inning of our fourth game wondering if I was ever going to get to play when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see my coach gazing down at me. He gave me a sly grin and said, "get a helmet, you 're on deck." I had to swallow my shock. I jumped up and hurried over to the on deck circle. I could barely contain myself. This was it, I was finally going to prove that I deserved to be in the lineup. When my turn came, I made my way to the plate with gusto, and stood in the batter 's box, anxiously awaiting the first pitch. The pitcher started his windup and delivered what appeared to be a fastball. I watched the pitch, vacillating on whether or not to swing. "Is that too far inside?...Is that a strike?...Can I hit that hard?" By the time I decided to swing it was almost too late. I nicked the ball with the end of my bat and the ball dribbled out softly to the shortstop. Drat, I missed my pitch. But I was not deterred. I had to beat out the throw. I sprinted towards first base with everything I had. As I ran, I took a quick peek over and noticed the fielder had bobbled the ball. I was going to make it! And then

So, the second inning was just another carbon copy of the first. I am still pitching, hooray, I guess. This inning was different though I threw more strikes, but they hit every single one of them. They scored four whole runs in that inning. I didn’t get off with that inning very easily. My dad chewed my tail up. I was mad, the score was now eight to four, and I am third up to bat. The two people before me got on. I am now up to bat. I am thinking to myself swing at everything as hard as you can. First pitch “Strike one!” Next pitch “Strike two!” I had lost all confidence, so I see the next pitch is in the dirt and hold back. Now the count is one and two. My legs are shaking, but I remembered that I am mad. So the next pitch I swing as hard as I can and I hit the ball to left field. I know that it was at least a double, but I did not look up. I sprinted around the bases as fast as I could. I rounded third, and saw my team at home. I had just hit a homerun! My dad said as I passed by him, “Nice hit.”I didn’t stop running though it didn’t faze me until I had got in the dugout. Everyone had congratulated me on my

Swallowing the anxiety I circled the class that had the power to ruin an entire year of school. Thinking back to those memories and thoughts a laugh rises up. It has been hard to succeed in this class but not the worst. The crack of another ball making contact with a bat brings my attention back up to the baseball game. It would soon be my turn to take another swing at the ball flying towards my face. Baseball isn't favorite sport, mainly because I don't have the coordination to swing at a ball coming towards my face. My name is yelled, meaning that it is now my turn to take a swing. Slowly rising the bench I shuffle out of the dug-out, passing all of my classmates who believe I will miss. Lifting the wooden bat up, I square away my feet and stare down the pitcher. He windups, I feel the ball swoosh by. Strike one is called. The catcher snatches up the ball and sends it sailing back to the pitcher. Again the pitcher windups. I slowly roll my hands around the bat, breathing slowly. The ball is thrown to home plate, I swing the bat. The bat and ball don't connect, my heart

The ball went flying through the air as if it was taken by the wind. I watched it and then was then yelled at to RUN! It was my first ever baseball hit. I Lined up inside the box itching to get my first hit. The pitcher got the signals from his coach. He set up on the mound and delivered a fastball. I swung with all my might and made contact with what they call the fat part of the bat. I watched the ball as it flew through the air. I then dropped my bat stepped out of the box and sprinted towards first base. I got to first base and then was told to run to second. I ran to second just and made it just as the ball made it there. I stood there dusted of pants and looked at my mom as she was standing there cheering at the top of her lungs. This

We had to whatever it took to win this game. With one single crack of the bat, I was off! The ball made it right over the head of the third basemen and the left fielder completely misjudged it, he gave me 10 extra feet! The crowd was boisterous! Screaming my name and cheering me on. “I can do this!” I thought to myself. “I realized it was going to happen, I was going get to at least third with that hit but I wanted to run home. The coach was on the third base line waiting for me, giving me signals for me to keep going. He did not want me to slack off on the base running and get caught in the path of a fielder. Somehow, the left fielder got a hold of the ball and was throwing it into third. “No! This can't be happening” I thought to myself as I realized that I was nowhere close to third and I was going to have to slide in to make it. I’ve missed every sliding practice due to family matters and I do not even know the proper technique, but I have to do it for my team; I have to slide. Maybe I will break my ankle for trying to slide the wrong

Looking back at my childhood I realized that some of the fondest memories I have was playing baseball. Like the time I had my first homerun when I was 10 years old, or our first district championship in over 20 years. Not only is it the memories that stick with you along the way, but the friendships as well. I can truly say some of the closest friends I have made, I met playing baseball. For instance my best friend and I met playing t-ball at the age of four, we have been friends ever since and now continue to play college baseball on the same team. I love this sport because it connects so many different types of people. In the Major Leagues for instance, there is multiple different races in this sport. It doesn’t matter if you are an American,

The touch on the brim of the hat and a slide across the waist. The call for a bunt my dad had used every year when he coached me in baseball. This year was my first year of kid pitch during the fall ball season. My team was oakland athletics and we were playing the Kansas city royals. I would soon learn a life lesson that I still use till this day. Even if you fail in life, if you learn from your mistakes you can prevent the chances of failure.

Then it was my turn to hit i walked up to the plate.There were two people already on the base with my heart pounding and my knees shaking. I was getting so nervous, anxious and i wanted to hit the ball as hard as i could. As i'm watching the pitcher put her arm back my heart started pounding. I saw the ball and swung at the flash of green going threw the air. I heard the ball hit the bat, but sadly it was a foul ball. With one strike on me now, I look at my coach for the signal, he told me to hit away. I saw the ball flying toward me has fast as lightning and I swung. I heard the ball hit the catcher's glove and the umpire yelled strike. She pitches the next pitch and i saw the ball coming at me, I swung with all my power. I heard the crack of the ball and I ran full speed until I reached home plate

Bang! Smack! The ball shoots back at me like a lightning bolt. It strikes my knee, and I fall to the ground with a thud. I gather all my strength, and I launch the ball to first. It soars through the air and plops in the first baseman’s old, dark brown glove.