Eric Skipper
19 November 2012
Ms. Harmon
Pre-AP English 10
The Diamond
It’s a blistering hot summer day. I am dirty and sweaty from running and sliding. My breathing slows as I calm myself and slowly walk up to the dirty home plate. I keep one foot in, looking for a sign, but I don’t get one. I look calmly into the pitcher’s eyes as he gets set. He winds up and throws the ball hard, putting all of his effort behind it. It doesn’t matter, because I see it, and I see it well. It’s inside, over the plate, my favorite spot. I swing as hard as I can. Ping. It comes off the bat hard, I barely notice I hit it. Looking over to see where the ball is going, I see it sailing over the left field wall. With the power of God, I try to look professional by not grinning and laughing while I am rounding the bases, the way I was taught. I did it, I just hit my first home run. My teammates jump on me as I am touching home plate, my coach is grinning, telling me what a good hit that was.
It’s a warm day, not exactly hot. I am sitting in one of the many green seats at the bottom row. I am pretty comfortable. I’m sitting down at this baseball game for once, not playing it, because it is a Redbirds game. It’s not as fun to watch other players get to play my favorite sport, and have fun, while I am forced to sit and be jealous. They get to play this sport, and even get paid to do it. They are living the life. I really do not like being in places this big, people are everywhere. There are vendors, yelling out what they are selling, in a funny voice in an attempt to get more customers. You know what? I am kind of getting hungry. I ask my dad if he will go get me some food, of course he says I can go up there myself. I go to a stand with a nice, red counter. The fresh smell of hot dogs in the air. I look to see what the stand has on the red sign, and I see a lot of stuff. There are things like nachos, hot dogs, and even hamburgers. Or, I could choose to just buy a candy bar. But I see something I have never seen before. Barbecue Nachos? I will have to try some. If I don’t like them I will just let dad eat them. He will eat anything. I buy a Mountain Dew and some barbecue nachos. I go back to my seat to try them. These are amazing. Little do I know, I will hardly ever get to eat these in my life, even though I love them.
Flash back to a few years before this, I am five years old. My dad and I are at another Redbirds game. With the hopes of catching a foul ball, my dad has gotten us seats right by the foul line. I ask why he thinks we will get a foul ball in these seats “Because righties will pull a lot of balls down the line, towards us” he says. I trust him, because he knows everything. I brought my new baseball glove! It still smells like new leather, my favorite smell ever. I have never been in such a large place with so many people. I don’t like a lot of people being around me. We are at the 6th inning and still nothing. Dad keeps reassuring my impatient, five year old mind that I will get a foul ball hit to me. I am starting to doubt him. I am getting distracted really easily by all the people. I am getting up so I can go to the bathroom. As soon as I stand up. Crack, I hear the ball hit the bat, and my dad says “Here it comes, Eric!” I lean over, because the ball is not coming right at me, and I reach my glove out, and feel a violent jerk on my hand as the ball pounds it. But, I look in my glove, and I have it. My dad says “Good job! We can get it autographed after the game.” I don’t know what that means. Now the game is over, and I am walking up the bleachers, my dad says “Where are you going? We are getting it autographed.” So dad takes me down beside the dugout, where there are a lot of players and some coaches with pens in their hands, signing baseballs, baseball bats, and pictures. I hand my ball to one of the coaches, and he signs it for me, and I do the same with 3 more players. This is one of the first memories I have of baseball.
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