I believe that hall of famers are gods at sports such as Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron and many more are gods at baseball but me I am no god. I only felt like that when I hit my first homerun when I was in fifth grade I was horrible at baseball. I remember my coach yelling at me because I was so bad he would always say “hit the ball Catch the ball you stink”. I tried blocking out the screaming and yelling he would say “do this, do that” I tried doing the things he told me but it didn’t work. I would always strike out or not play the field right. He would make me practice harder if I didn’t do well in a game which was always.
By the next year I got picked for a different team called the Cardinals. The coach picked me because I made a great catch against his team it was a rare diving catch. When I was on the field I was waiting for the pitcher to throw the ball once he did I made contact and found were the ball was going. At that time the batter hit the ball I saw the ball fly in the air it was coming toward me I got a little scared. I didn’t know if I was going to catch the ball. My coach would yell at me again if I didn’t catch it so while it was flying through the air I was thinking to my self this would be a really good catch if I caught it. All of a sudden the ball was getting lower and lower while the ball was getting lower I got more scared. I was running for the ball the ball kept getting lower and lower I dove while the grass slide up from my cleats and I fell hard to the ground I looked in my glove and there was the ball. There was excitement coming from both teams and both crowds I was so excited I felt like I was getting better.
The cardinals had a bunch of good kids on that team most of them were my best friends. Some of them were cousins. The coach for the cardinals is my cousin’s; dad he picked me because him and I get along really well. We are best friends till this day. Another reason is that I made that wonderful catch when I played for the Cardinals. I was a lot better than before, it felt like I was getting some sort of a gift. I was always hitting the ball. Occasionally I would strike out but it was alright if I hit the ball. That’s all I cared about.
By then I hit my first homerun. I was batting tenth and my best friend was batting first. The score was two to three they are winning. The inning was the bottom of the sixth I got up I was scared but I know if I hit the ball well I would be happy. So I was standing there it smelled like the hot dogs that were being cooked in the concession stand. It feel felt like the grip was ripping off the bat, so while I was waiting for the pitch I was thinking to my self this would be great if I hit a homerun. I looked in center field I saw my dad waiting there by the fence for me to hit a homerun. By then the ball was pitched. I gripped the bat as hard as I could I swung, I heard a hard hit. I looked up in the air and the ball was over the fence. I was running around the bases while everyone is screaming with excitement and my dad was so happy for me because when he was little he used to be a really good at baseball. He used to pitch so too I guess I carried his genes.
So the next person got up and the whole team was waiting for the pitch. The score was tied, the ball was pitched he swung and hit a home run. It was back to back homeruns’ we were screaming and yelling. We were so happy because that run won us the game we all jumped up in down because we were so happy. That run just ended the ball game.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.