Personal Narrative-Play Ball

The major league World Series has come. The games that KC Royals, Lopez’s team, have won are 3 games. The opponent team, San Francisco, have won one. One more win and the Royals are the champs… again.

It was about 4:00, on game day against Courtland, when I told the team we should probably start our pregame warmups. This consisted of everything that a normal high school baseball team does before a game. We started off by taking a jog to the flagpole on the centerfield fence, which is also where we stretched . We followed that up with getting a light toss in just good enough to get our arms ready for a game. Courtland was then announced and right after that was my team, the Eastern View Cyclones. The national anthem was then played and directly after it ended the umpire called out, “Play

Moments after the home plate umpire called Brett out, Brett charged home plate looking as if he was going to run over the umpire, but before he got there another umpire intercepted Brett by the neck. During this commotion teammate Gaylord Perry was attempting to swipe the evidence of the bat and hide it in the dugout, but he failed at this attempt. The Royals lost this game and Brett was ejected. The Royals manager sent an appeal to the American League Commissioner and he decided the game would be finished on August 18th from the point of Brett’s home run. The Royals ended up winning the game 5-4, even without Brett.

The day started out with some introductions and then went right into fielding drills. The players paired up and warmed their arms with some long-toss catch.

The first pitch that the coach threw to me seared the hair right off my head since it was going so fast. “Strike one!” called the ump. Alright, I needed to believe in my abilities. The next pitched was hurled right in line with my face! When I opened my eyes, I saw that the baseball was a perfect pitch and the catcher hadn’t moved his glove. The coach was making a fool out of me with his famous curve ball. “Strike two!” the umpire proclaimed. The next pitch was the one that I would make my mark on. The pitcher wound up and thrust the ball toward the catcher’s glove. I loaded and fiercely swung as hard as I could. After what seemed like forever, I looked into the catcher’s glove, and there was the ball. I felt dreadful. “Strike three!” I heard in the background. As I walked back to the dugout, I wondered what did I do wrong, what could I have changed, and what does the coach think of

It was my turn up at bat. Even though I had weeks of practice I still couldn’t make contact with the ball. So I picked up my bat and helmet and said to my bat, “Bat, don’t fail me now.” Then I trotted to the plate. “Swoosh!” went the first ball.

“Sometimes you've got to respect what the other team can do, too,” Francona said. “Sometimes they beat you. I didn't think we beat ourselves. I thought they beat us.

As coach listened he was also preparing of the biggest speech of the season. He said “We as coaches can only do so much as it is to teaching you guys what to do, you have to do the rest on the field. You have to try harder than you have ever tried before, you have to dig deep and show them what you got, now let’s go do this. TEAM on three, one-two-three.”

“Next up the right fielder Auuuuusstin Meeeehhhhrrrr” belows out of the speakers at full blast as I approach the plate. Feeling loose I ease into the batter's box sinking my cleats deep into the soft dirt where I can get a solid stance. Stretching my bat across the plate showing the pitcher how much reach I have tempting him to throw one in the zone. Weight is on my back leg as I slowly bounce the bat in my hands anticipating the first pitch. The pitcher begins his windup and I stop moving the bat and focus on the ball.

We were in the hotel room Saturday morning before the game. I went down to eat the continental breakfast the hotel provided. As I got off the elevator I said to my coach. “Hey Coach, how is it going?”

“There’s no crying in baseball.” That is something my dad always says to me. What made me think of that? Oh yeah, I have a baseball tournament this weekend! I couldn’t wait to smell the rubber glove, feel the speed of the pitcher, and feel the turf. I wanted to get back to see my teammates and my coaches. At 5:30 it was time to head to Lenz Field!

The team lines up putting their right hand on their hearts, and their left hand on the shoulder in front of them. This moment is so powerful, one that will stay with you forever. After this you get in a hudle and yell “tigers on three”! Before the game starts you wait for the announcer to announce your name, and throughout the game. When you are up to bat, your teammates chant cheers and sing the traditional songs, since the kindergarten league. While they are singing the songs and cheering it makes yourself feel confident and knowing you have support from your team. The sound only yourself can hear, your heart racing, beating rapidly waiting for the pitch in the batter’s box. I have intense nerves waiting for the ball to come over home plate as I watch the ball make contact with the bat. When running from base to base my metal cleats clashing into the sand sounding as you’re crushing the sand under your cleats. It is a terrifying sound when the sound of metal cleats are scratching in the concrete dugout producing rough goose bumps on my

It was the top of the seventh, and the Freeburg Rebels had a 1 run lead. After one of my teammates made the last out, I headed to the mound for the bottom of the last inning. While warming up, I could feel the scorching heat piercing my skin. As the first batter walked up to the plate, the umpire yelled out “Play Ball”! Despite this being one of the most important moments in my baseball career, I wasn’t nervous. I was locked in. On the first pitch, the catcher held up a 1, signaling for a fastball. I started my windup and continued to throw the pitch. The batter swung out of his shoes like he was trying to take one over the Green Monster at Fenway Park. Channeling my inner Bob Gibson, I threw the 2 filthiest breaking balls I’ve ever thrown

I walk to the base. Sand kicks up as I pound my feet in place. I stare at the pitcher, staring at me. Swing. I swing my bat hard. I miss it badly. “Strike One!” I hear as i try to focus. Only hit it if it’s perfect. I think to myself, taking a couple of practice swings. I step back up to the base and ready my feet again. A pound of sand puffs up. I look behind me at the crowd, there eyes staring at me. I look to my team, their eyes looking at me saying, We’re counting on you! I look back to the pitcher. I nod, the pitcher gets in position. You got this… BANG! I hit the ball so hard it goes flying across the field. “Run! Run!” I hear everyone in the crowd, and in the dugout, yell. I run as fast as I can. Dirt kicks up underneath my feet. First

“Batter up,” the umpire hollered. I took a deep breath and walked up to the batter’s box. I placed my hand in the air towards the umpire, indicating time, so that I could get myself into the correct position. I took one last look at home plate and took another deep breath. This was it; my time to shine.