Baseball, My Dad and Me

Essay by EssaySwap ContributorCollege, Undergraduate February 2008

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It's my seventh birthday and dad baught me a softball glove. I don't like softball, I like ballet. He tells me that my team would be called The Yankees, so I decide to give it a try because my dad likes The Yankees so I like them too. I'm not good at softball. I can't hit the ball, I can't throw the ball and I can't catch the ball. Practices used to be fun because I was with my friends but now they got good and play the infield. I play the outfield sometimes but most of the time I just sit on the bench. Sitting on the bench is embarassing and when I bat I strike out every time. I hope the pitcher will hit me with the ball or walk me so I can see what it is like to get on base. I just strike out every time.

Todays practice is for pitching. Pitching! Maybe that's what I can do. I'm sure that when it is my turn to pitch I'll blow everyone away with my awesome pitching and then they'll let me play. It's almost my turn because most of the girls have gone already. Now the parents are starting to show up which means practice is almost over. Mom will have to wait because I have to have my turn. Only two people in front of me, one person in front of me, and I'm excited because I can go home and tell dad how good I did and he can be proud of me. Then I hear the whistle. Practice is over, but I haven't had my turn yet. Coach, I didn't get to pitch yet. She say's I'm not ready to pitch and maybe I can try next year. I cant throw,