ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ To be given the chance to play little league was one of the greatest times of my life. Since I was young I always had to have a new glove and ball for my birthday and for Christmas all I could dream about was the newest bat on the market. My parents assumed I possessed a need for sports. That sport was America's Greatest pastime, Baseball. The countless numbers of baseball cards and library of books of all the great players filled my room. It started by learning how to throw the heat, moved onto how to move my feet. Tee-ball was first and then coach pitch, I was well beyond my years in the sport and was moved up a year to play with the guys two years older. My excitement for the positioning far exceeded my nerve to play with guys older than myself.
ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ The story didn't end there, one more highlight, my best friend made it too.
My best friend Adam and I played on every regular season team and every all-star team together, since we were five. The final game of our career was unforgettable.
ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ ÃÂÃ It had been 4 years of great enjoyment with my best friend, Adam, I knew him as Meral, an old nickname. Together we could never find out the reason for the name, but it stuck. We always clowned around in practice, stuffing as much big league chew in our mouths as we could. The coach could get mad, but when the game would start we had a high intensity. We would practice at his house after school every day; we convinced his parents that we needed a batting cage. This cage was huge, and we took advantage. We would practice hitting until dark, and even after dark we found a...