Personal Narrative Essay: Bounce's Game

It was a hot summer day in Hammond, Louisiana and I was pouring down sweat like I had just jumped in a pool. The game was just about to begin, me and my team was eagle eyeing the bomb squad. It was so quiet that you could hear your own sweat hitting the bench. The umpire broke up everyone’s concentration by saying, “play ball”! The defense had ran out on the field and I started rolling ground balls from 2nd to short-stop to third base. They had all made good throws back to me and then I threw the ball into the dug-out because the game had begun.

Lights blaring into my eyes, the crack of the bat, the shouting of the overly-devoted parents, the salty aroma arising off of the freshly roasted peanuts, all came together to create the overwhelming presence of a little league baseball game. This was a place where I spent most of my time on week day afternoons, in the spring, watching my brother succeed at America’s pastime. He was really quite good at this sport called baseball; he had just been granted the position of starting pitcher for the team. Sometimes things that have occurred in my life, and stuff I have received, that I may not have necessarily deserve, can be taken for granted. However, after what was about to take place my eyes are given a new perspective.

Could we get to the ball? If we don’t get the ball they well recover it. It was one of our first games in September. Our record was one, one and one. That means we won once, lost once, and tied once. It was at Unity Field (Home). We were started at 4:30.

The air was cold and eerie as my teammates and I got ready to take the field for baseball practice. Our coach called for a night practice in the middle of September following our devastating loss in the championship game a few weeks ago. “Let’s go! Start running laps around the field!” my coach shouted as players were still getting dressed and warming up. Most of my teammates still shattered by the championship loss weren’t feeling enthusiastic about practicing. We finished running our laps and moved on to the next portion of our practice which was long tossing. I wasn’t aware that such a routine practice would be the one to change my life.

It was a dark thursday night in April. The sky was clear enough to see the moon shining brightly along with many small circular diamonds. I’m in a dark blue Avalanche, being driven to a baseball diamond. I play for the MIlwaukee Brewers on a little league level. It’s my last game of the season, and I can’t wait for the umpire to say the words “Play Ball” (which states that the game has begun).

There he was sitting in the bleachers waiting for the game to be over hoping that it wouldn't be long. His little brother, Mike, was playing a lacrosse game, the hardest one of their season. Mike was pretty good, but not as good as the people on the other team. The score was 17-2, they were ranked number two in the state, but these guys were number one.

It just seems like it would be natural for me to begin playing organized basketball at an early age, but I did not other than the rough and tumble playground ball at recess. I began to yearn to play on a real team, and soon I would have my chance. It was the summer before the sixth grade, and I managed to talk my father into purchasing me a basketball and my mother into purchasing the rim. We put the rim up onto the shed and I began practicing.

We had just started the last summer break before our first year of high school starts before Michael started interfering with our relationship. Bradley is a lover of baseball and has baseball games every weekend, but I, Kelsey had either basketball or volleyball practice or a game every day of the week day. Considering we were both busy at different times it made it hard for us to see each other. We tried to go to each other's games as much as possible, but one baseball game changed it all.

We played at the Bartlett gym. It is a small metal gym with a tile floor. That is slick as glass and a big circular fan at one end of the court. It smelled like sweat and popcorn. And i heard the squeak of the shoes. It was are first game. They have played a few games before us we were a little nervous. I started on A team and we played hard. ‘I did get in foul trouble and had to sit a little’. ‘’ my first fouls was when I tried to stuff a kid and hit the kid’’.

It was just like a dream . It was the bottom of the 4th and I could not hit . Then Finally I got my hit , the perfect pitch finally came to me like it was the best pitch . So perfect straight over fence as i rounded 1st base .

I was third in line, sweating in the hot sun, I squinted so I could see better but the sun was to hot.

Some part of me, though, has always wanted to keep it all close to my heart,

I first started playing volleyball at a very young age. I was in the seventh grade when my volleyball career started. My sister started playing in the seventh grade and I just wanted to follow her footsteps. My seventh grade year was ok because I had just started out and really didn’t know the game. There was A team and a B team, where A team was better than the B team. I tried my best to be on the A-team, but guess where I ended up, on the B team.

It was the first day of tryouts in ninth grade and I was nervous out of my mind. I walked in the freshly lit gymnasium, with maroon bleachers and the roaring black panther mascot in the dead center of the court. The first game of tryouts and I stepped onto the court knowing that I should display my talent for scoring, passing, and defending. I made sure that talked on defense “Down Low, Cutter, I got two, One D, Baby J” and I made sure I said it enough where the coach heard me from the sidelines.

"Yeah, right!" said Coach half laughing. "Let's just continue to shoot around until the clock is running, OK girls." So I grabbed a ball out of the steel cage in the corner of the gym and started to fling it towards the hoop. "Jaclyn, would you come here for a minute?" asked Coach Moore in a serious tone.