“Ryan! Get over here,” my coach, Bill, deafly yelled at me.
Bill was a monstrous man; to an eleven year old child no taller than four feet, ten inches. He was as big as an elephant, and as tall as a giraffe. He had shamrock green eyes, and short straight hair that was as dark as the night sky. “I need you to win one for the team,” Bill told me, “You are after Jim, who is on deck, so get ready.”
I went over to the bat rack, to grab my bat. My bat was long, slender, black, and as shiny as a brand new car. As I grabbed the bat, I knew that I was going to win the game for my team. I looked out onto the freshly cut field, that had dew drops dripping from the short blades of grass, and I saw my teammate, Sean, who was up to bat; hit the ball into deep left field, and then he ran around the bases until he slid into third. With all the cries of joy in the dugout; it got as loud as a F14 Tomcat’s jet engines. We were only down by one run in the championship game, and we only had one measly out. I saw Sean get up from the slide; his red and white Philly’s uniform was now dirt brown. My teammate Jim went up to bat and I went on deck.
I put the shiny red, yet muddy, weights onto my bat and I started to take a few light swings. I stared at the umpire while I was swinging my bat. He was a short and plump man with a scowl on his face that could scare the dead. I guess he really didn’t like watching a bunch of eleven year old children play baseball. I turned around and looked at Jim just in time to see him strike out.
I was walking up to home plate, but as I came close to Jim I saw him holding back tears so I gave him a pat on the shoulder. He only said, “Thanks,” and then he kept on walking.
After that I walked up to home plate, which was covered in mud, and you could scarcely see it now. The plump umpire walked up to home plate, and dusted the plate off. Then he went back to where he was standing, and proclaimed to everyone sitting or playing, “Play ball!”
I took a few more swings, and then stepped into the batter’s box. I looked at the other team’s pitcher. He had on a green and white uniform, since he was on the Athletics team. He was staring at me intently; to where it almost looked like he would kill me just to win the game. He began his windup and then the ball left his hand, so it could not have been more than a second, and then I swung. “Strike one!” yelled the umpire.
I stepped out of the batter’s box, and took a few more practice swings. Then I stepped into the batter’s box once more, and I struck my bat onto the plate. I looked at the pitcher again, and he was still eyeballing me. He took a deep breath, and then he threw the ball as hard and as fast as he could. I reacted instantly and swung the bat. I had felt contact with the ball so I ran as fast as I could. I made it to first when the umpire yelled, “Foul ball.”
I was very depressed as I started to walk back to home plate. The ball had just been to the right of the line by about an inch. I stayed out of the batter’s box and took a few more swings. I looked over at Sean, who was still at third, and he mouthed to me, “You can do it!”
I stepped up to home plate, and looked at pitcher again. He still looked like he hated my guts. Then the catcher for the other team started chanting, “Hey batter batter … swing.”
I tried to ignore him, and I looked at the pitcher once more. He took another deep breath, and he hummed the ball towards home plate. I swung the bat with all my might, and then the umpire uttered those famous baseball words.