Baseball Memoir Essay

As soon as I made my very first varsity baseball appearance, I knew that I had to be the very best I could be or there was never going to be a chance of ever putting on that white and maroon crisp cleaned dri-fit Russel number 18 jersey. My heart was beating beyond faster than it should be at my first at bat because I had always heard “Just wait you haven't seen nothing yet, wait till you face them varsity pitchers.” Players older than me had constantly been saying that throughout my freshman season and it kept repeating over and over in my head like a broken record. Although I had studied the pitcher and had seen with my very own eyes, he wasn’t as good as everyone talked him up to be. I was still overawed and very nervous about messing up.

This inning was the spark of our lead, for we scored a couple more runs, but the game was not even close to over. For they could easily make a comeback.. Their team was breaking down both physically and mentally. However one baseball game would not exhaust me, for I practiced hours of pitching, batting, and baserunning. With the game , and it’s natural whizzing by, I was actually startled while taking the mound in the bottom of the sixth inning, but then again, my hard work paid off, feeling as fresh and as controlled as the beginning. I was facing the top of the lineup, which means the best players on the other team. The first batter I struck out with a breeze. The second, not so much. I had to bust out my wicked curveball on a full count to make him take a seat on the bench. Next up was their best player. I reared back and fired the ball as hard as I could. “Strike one!” called the ump, the sound muffled by the sound of the glove. The next pitch, a curve was thrown, him chasing the ball which leads to strike two. The next pitch, I knew I had to give everything I had, and upon firing the ball at a high rate of fire, the glorious glove came in contact with the ball, ending the game then and there. After the ceremony we partied, using water instead of champagne. The whole team went to a burger restaurant, and laughed and ate

The long series of events started when I was seven years old and my parents signed me up for Bobby Sox softball. I soon grew to love the sport and came back to the organization every year until I turned ten. I stopped playing for the league and tried out for a local travel ball team and made it. I soon had a career out of playing travel ball, it was my whole life. I had been on many teams and created many memories. As I got older, I didn’t enjoy playing softball as much as I did before. I was scared to tell this my dad this because he had high hopes that I would play in college. When I told my dad that I wanted to quit softball, I learned that I need to do what makes me happy even if it disappoints people.

(swing bat) Well, there's my 60 th home run. I am babe Ruth, if you didn't already know. And I want to talk about my life. I was born February 6, 1895 and I was one of 8 children in my family. With my parents working long hours I was a troublemaker, since there no one was to watch me. At age 7 my parents sent me to St. Mary’s Industrial School for Boys. I skipped school a lot and caused a lot of fights around my neighborhood. That's when my parents realized I needed a more strict environment. At school I started to fall in love with baseball. At age 19, my mentor Brother Matthias invited Jack Dunn, the owner of the Baltimore Orioles, to watch me play baseball. Jack Dunn was so impressed that

I’ve taken part in baseball since I was 3 years old, it is by far my favorite sport. It truly holds something very special to me, because I look forward to it each year. When the season ends I enjoy it for about 2 weeks off, but then realize I’m not going to have another team practice til next year. My 9th grade year of sports took a turn of events when I tore my meniscus during football season. I had surgery March 8th of 2017. I couldn’t play that season and I was pretty depressed seeing all my buddies play. I remember hobbling over to meet Coach Boom and introducing myself saying I could help out doing stats for him. I tried to keep myself involved but it was hard not playing and just sitting on bench watching my family

I have always been passionate about baseball, whenever I have a chance I watch baseball highlights or I watch a game because it is just a very interesting sport. I’ve been playing baseball since I was about eight years old it is a very big passion of mine, and the way I keep with this passion is by practicing everyday by myself at home or with the school, I just try my best to accomplish getting better everyday, without this sport I really don’t think that I would be the person I am because baseball certainly has had a gargantuan impact on me. The place where I grew up was a very good place to live in, because there wasn’t any robberies or any weed being smoked, but as I grew up some robberies happen, but some people on my street smoke weed, and I feel like If I didn’t really care about baseball at all then I probably could’ve been one of those people that smoke or take

Playing baseball has been my passion for my whole life. It all started with my father influencing the game to me when I was 6 due to a family tradition of playing baseball. Baseball brought a different life to my dad, as my dad grew up in a very poor and dangerous neighborhood where he was exposed to gangs,drugs,shootings and even killings. Everyday was a hustle for him having to constantly look behind his back. As my father was in a family of 7, being the second youngest of the 7.

I step up to the plate. The hot lights of the Mets stadium hit my face. Clayton Kershaw was pitching. He is the best pitcher in the MLB. The pitch comes. It was a slow hanging curveball right over the middle. I swing will all my might. I hear the crack of the bat and I see the ball fly over the fence. I trot around the bases and I am approaching home plate. I step on home then I wake up.

it's a hot Texas Sun beat down upon my neck a fast ball whizzed past my bat and into the catcher's glove after you had another strikeout. I trudged back to the dugout thoughts of failure filled my mind of my confidence slowly vanishing. I wasn't accustomed to anything less than success before high school. I prospered in youth athletics while living in South Dakota. I had a phenomenal baseball coach to transform my robbed potential into success on the baseball diamond. Unfortunately, my father's Air Force career demanded that we move before my baseball season. Without me my team went on to win the city state championships advancing all the way to the Little League World. When I was younger my family moved to not affect my athletic performance the difficulties began I was torn from my tight-knit community in Northern Virginia and forced to adjust to life in West Texas prior to the start of my freshman year. I struggled to regain the close friends and relationships I left behind for the first time in my life.

I love the smell of fresh cut grass on a beautiful baseball field. The look of it is amazing, but the smell brings back so many past memories. All through my life I've played baseball for travel teams and such. Playing on the best fields in the nation, and the fields always getting looked after. So whenever I step on a Baseball field now, I'm taken back to my times as a kid playing baseball with my friends over the summer going to all types of places.

As I put off opportunities to improve my skills, and my character, the toll only became harsher and more difficult to overcome. In turn, my status among the other athletes began to deteriorate. Witnessing my peers expedite their game as I still struggled did not phase me so much at the time. In fact, I was sure that my role on the team would remain the same. This was obviously false, as within the matter of weeks I was pushed back further in the batting lineup, and committing more errors in the field than ever before. It was during our playoff run that I had realized the resulting detriment, when each player was counted on more than ever before. We ended up making it to the championship, only being one run short of winning. Although our team was able to accomplish that much, I felt short handed when it came to the successful

I have loved baseball for years, but by the time I was a freshman at Laurel High School, I had precious little experience. The chances of me playing baseball in most high schools were slim, but this was Laurel. America’s favorite pastime was treated there as a vestige of years long forgotten. The athletic director ignored us, the students didn’t support us, and the school funded us just enough to say that they had a baseball program. Tucked away in a forgotten corner of the campus in the gloomy shadows of the tower from which football games were announced, the baseball diamond was the school’s disgrace. The dugouts were dismal cinder block bunkers with peeling paint and a propensity to flood. Grass was scarce where it was supposed to be and

Thus is the nature of baseball, a fickle game wrought with tradition, the foremost of which is the iron clad law mandating that the game is cruel and will take away as freely as it gives. My father always told me, “Baseball is a game of errors - the best hitters fail seven out of ten times - the key to success is knowing how to deal with the failure.” It is this aspect of the game, its want to frustrate and demoralize the player, that I think has driven most of my

It had been an unbelievable season so far, we were going into the championship game of junior league with only two losses. Of course, the only other team with a better record than us was the black team. We gave them their only loss on the second game of the regular season. Now, after defeating the better of the Mosinee teams in the semi finals, my dad, who was also the coach of our blue team, had stopped to watch the rest of the game between black and red.

However, I did not like sports. My father would always badger me to watch the football game. I was never interested. When I was around six years old, my father signed me up for baseball. The only reason he did it is because he played baseball as a kid and he thinks that I would like it. Unfortunately, he was terribly wrong. According to my parents, I would complain about going to baseball practices. I also remember not being the best catcher or hitter. I remember one encounter when a kid on the team called me a bad baseball player. For example, I was up at bat one time. The coach threw me the ball and I hit it. I hit it right up in the air. Then, the ball hit me right on my head and my glasses knocked off my face. I picked up my glasses and heard snickering from the kids on the other team. I would also define myself as a little brat. For instance, the coach would give us catching exercises to help improve our catching. I was unable to catch the ball. I began to cry. I was exasperated to the point where I grabbed a ball and threw it at the fence so hard, it made a huge