Jackson Barry Period 1 English October 18, 2013 Fictional Narrative

The Game of My Life Are you ready? Eli asks me with a nervous smile. Eli is one of my teammates, and he is our shortstop. I think so, I reply nervously shuffling around, looking for my blue uniform. We are in our cabin with the rest of the Bombers team. We are getting ready for our semi-final game in the town of Americas Baseball Hall of Fame, Cooperstown, New York. Oh no! I yelp. I cannot find my lucky sock. I wore that sock through all of our playoff games! I scramble around, looking everywhere in the cabin. My coach, Chris Rosenberry, tells me, Jackson, it is ok. We will be fine as long as we play our game. I hold my breath, but then I let it out. I trust my coach as I find my other pair of socks, looking at them as if they were my worst enemy. I then put my cleats on, grab my bag, and head with my team toward the batting cage. I step in the batting cage, look around, and listen to every sound from bats hitting balls to loud voices and to the morning insects. My coach pitches me the ball; I hit it hard at the side of the cage as the net ripples like the softest waves in the ocean. I hit my last ball as my coach yells, Next. I stroll to my next task over to the tee, thinking anxiously about the game. We are going up against one of the foremost teams in the country. We are here at this moment because we have beaten enough teams out of 100 to be considered the top 4. As I finish my last swings on the heavy balls, my coach tells us, It is time for warm-ups. Everyone sprints over to coach, including me, and we start our warmups. First, we jog to our coach and back to the line. Then we do our shuffle shuffle pickups. As we finish up our warm-ups, I hear the deep rasp of heaving breathing.

Bring it up boys, my coach says. Today, we are playing in the semi-finals. If we wi- When we win, one of my teammates corrects. Yes, when we win, we go the championship. We will be one of the best in the country. So lets go out there, have some fun, and kick some butt. Gabe Leary, our captain, said, Put your hands in. Bombers on me, Bombers on three, 1,2,3, BOMBERS! Everyone yelled. We walk to the field 3, one of the finest fields. We respectfully open the gate to the field, and my eyes fall in love with the landscape before me. The grass is perfectly trimmed like a Roger Maris crew cut, and the beautiful brownish red clay is perfectly unwrinkled like suede. It was like a real major league baseball field. I am so excited to play on this magnificent field. There is a buzz in the air. Everyone on my team is excited, ready for the battle. Adrenaline rushed through me. I am super nervous, but prepared for this game. I know it is going to be a very competitive game. My coach, noticing we are gazing into the future, wakes us and tells us to put our bags in the dugout and start throwing. The umpire announces, Play ball! My team gets to hit first, making us the away team. The first batter of the game, Isaac Friedenburg, grounds out to the right side. We instantly recognize the pitcher for the other team throws really hard. Our two-three hitters then strike out and fly out. This is going to be very tough. My team sprints out onto the field after the catch is made for the third out. James Mott is on the hill for our team. He throws hard and has a great curveball. I am playing third base, which is also known as the hot corner. In the bottom of the first inning, the other team sends up their first batter. He strikes out, and so does the next batter. There are two outs, but the third hitter steps into the box and looks very intimidating. He is a giant righty. He is ready for the next pitch. He takes a big hack and crack. He has just pummeled the ball to deep left field. I think it is gone over the wall as soon as I hear the crack of the bat. But I hear our center fielder call, Ball, ball, and he catches the baseball at the warning track. With

a sigh of relief, we run off the field. Going into the sixth inning, we have our 4,5,6 hitters up, which means I am up third in this inning. James Mott stepped into the box and is ready for his at bat. On the first pitch he crushes a ball to deep left center. The ball keeps carrying and carrying and the ball clears the fence by a good 30 feet. CJ, our 5 hitter, is now batting. I am on the ondeck circle pondering over what my plan should be against this hard throwing righty. CJ hits a bullet up the middle that nearly takes the pitchers head off. I hear the applause from the crowd after CJs hit as I step up to the plate. I step up to the plate nervously, but confidently. I take the first pitch for a ball. After the next few pitches, the count is 3-1. The next pitch is a heater right down the middle. I swing with all my might, but come up empty. The count, now 3-2, is not in my favor anymore. The pitcher gets set, pitches and it is a curveball in the dirt. I take it for ball 4. I get to go to first base freely. In that inning, we manage to score 5 more runs! We are up 6-0 in the bottom of the second! We have created a brick wall to start the game. The next inning is scoreless for both teams. It is now the top of the fourth, our bases loaded; two outs and James Mott steps to the plate. His eyes are fixed on the pitcher with a look of determination on his face. He lets the first two pitches right down the middle go by! The count is already 0-2 and he is in a huge a hole. James takes a deep breath and fixes his feet. The pitcher makes a huge mistake. He hangs a 0-2 breaking ball and James does not miss it. He hits a grand slam for his second homerun of the game and the score is now 10-0 in our favor. The crowd goes crazy chanting, James, James, James. YAY! The team slaps him on the back as he walks into the dugout. But our practical coach turns our focus to the future not the past and settles us down. But despite the calm, the momentum continues. CJ steps into the box and walks on four straight pitches. The coach for the other team notices his pitcher is rattled, and takes him out. I am due up next. During the pitching change, I talk to my coach about my plan, and as soon I step into the batters box, I know what I was going to do! The pitcher throws the pitch; it is

coming right down the middle, and crack. I crushed the ball deep into right. Going, going, foul! I mutter under my breath, Dang it. I just missed it. The next two pitches are balls inside. The count is now 2-1 and the bright light is on me like a searchlight on a boat in the fog. But the next pitch was a beautiful curveball, and I take a big swing and a miss. It is now a 3-2 count, 2 outs, man on first, 10-0 us. I ready myself for the pitch. I see the pitcher nod in agreement with his catcher. I watch his knee go up, and I watch his arm cock to tempt me to misjudge his pitch. The appearance of the ball tells me when to load. I see the red seams flip of the pitchers fingertips and the ball is hovering in front of me in a matter of milliseconds. I swing with all my might and I feel the power make the ball sail over the fence! I think to my self, ADIOS PELOTA! It is now 12-0 in the top of the 4th. The next batter, Dylan, grounds out to end the inning, but we are in good shape. In the bottom of the 4th, the bases are loaded and there are two outs for the opposing team. Their four hitter, a giant, comes up to the plate. He sends an invisible message that makes me shutter. The score, still 12-0, is being teased. The pitcher winds up, and the opposing enemy catches my eye. A shadow falls across our pitcher. Something does not feel the same. I hear it before it happens. The ball clears the fence by 50 feet! The score is all of a sudden 12-4 and we are still not out of the inning. The sky darkens. The next two hitters also hit homeruns, and our lead is now in jeopardy. We finally get out of the inning, but not before the damage was done. Going into the top of the 5th, it is 12-6 Bombers! As we run in our coach makes us look in his eyes and he gives us a pep talk. He tells us, Boys, we just need to play in the present and forget the past, and we will be just fine. Just keep fighting, and we will win this ballgame. We still have a 6 run lead. Nothing to worry about. After that talk, we score 5 more runs in the next inning! James Mott is not pitching anymore; his replacement is our usually dependable Eli Larson. He does not have the best outing of his life. He gives up eleven runs in the inning, including four homeruns. We are now officially in trouble.

We retrench for battle. Our hopes our now on Andrew Frame who is up 4th in the inning. Our 1-2 hitters both ground out to short on two pitches. I think to my self, This is not good. Then James Mott steps up to the plate and hit a shot right up the middle for a base hit. Luck is back on our side. Andrew Frame, who is not a big kid, has 15 homeruns already in this tournament, is up. He hits the first pitch he sees for a two run homer. We take the lead 19-17! CJ is next up and tries to do the same but ends up striking out on 3 pitches. The game is back and forth like a Warriors versus Kings game. In the bottom of the sixth, we are up 19-17 with their 8-9-1 hitters due up. Andrew Frame, a lefty, is now pitching. He has been the steady rock of our team. The first batter comes up to the plate and crushes a ball down the third base line. I dive and spear the ball. I then whip the ball to first to get the out. I slap the red clay off my pants. I had just made a great play and I just saved a double! Andrew strikes out the next batter with ease on 3 straight pitches. It is two outs, bottom sixth, we are up two. The storm clouds are darkening the sky. The one hitter for the other team walks on four straight pitches. All of a sudden, Andrew is out of whack like a broken clock. He then walks the two hitter on 5 pitches. He cannot through a strike, and the three hitter is coming up. He throws 3 straight balls to him. My coach finally calls time and talks to us on the mound and tells us You have done this a thousand times. Just do your thing. After he calms Andrew down, we are ready. Andrew comes back and throws a strike to the intimidating looking hitter. Andrew has found his arm slot again. But the next pitch is a hanging slider and the kid smiles, pounces on it like a leopard making a kill, and hits a 3 run bomb to win the game. We all struggle off the field looking very morose, but know we cannot hang our heads because we played our very hardest on one of the most authentic fields in America.