This feeling in my nose tickles throughout. I let out a loud sneeze. I would be lying to you if I did not tell you it was a clean dry sneeze. The dirt from the ground tingled in my nose again and I let out another sneeze. The air was warm but dry the kind of weather that did not know if it wanted to be a warm winter day or a cold spring afternoon. When the wind blew, even just a little bit, it was like an orange dirt tornado out of the movie, The Wizard of Oz going everywhere. I closed my eyelids so tight I start to see textures in neon colours in the inside of my lids. Tighter and tighter, I shut them to assure I would not get dirt in them.
When I felt the wind stop blowing, I opened my eyes slowly and saw I was not in Kansas but defiantly not in Oz. I could see that this problem was affecting everyone but for the most part me the worst. In front of me was my friend, Amy, in all of her equipment crouched on the ground waiting for me to see what her plan of attack was. She raised her catching mitt and I knew exactly what I was going to throw.
In my hand was the red stitched, yellow softball made of leather, which I have always had a major problem with. I actually was so annoyed by this ball being made of leather that I had done some investigating to look for vegan friendly options. To get my hopes up, I found out that only leather softballs were used and could be used to play. I adjusted this brightly colored cowhide sphere in my hands so the red stitching would line up correctly.
I placed my foot on the thin chipped ivory coloured mound which is cheaply painted white for all the games and began doing the thoughtless motion I have done hundreds and hundreds of times before. Although I was only pitching during a practice with...
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...ying to learn new tricks.
At the end of every practice our team made a circle and the two captains entered the centre beginning to lead stretches. This was all the same to me, I just remember the grass. The grass was always so green. It was bold, thick, it wanted to say something. No, it wanted to scream. How the grass contrasted with the cotton candy blue sky. The pure colours of the world around me right then and there always amazed me. The rich green grass versus the orange brown dirt of the field. The orange brown dirt of the field verses the delicate blue sky. Together they felt hand in hand.
I realized everyone was gathering their belongings and I was left standing in the negative space of the circle. I started walking over to the shiny silver metallic bench to gather my possessions. Picked them up and simply walked away staring at the colours of the world.
With pitching there are a number of rules that need to be followed so that no foul balls are pitched. Stepping: when releasing the ball, a step needs to take (using the non-pivot foot) place at the same time as the ball is released. The step needs to be in the momentum of the pitching movement. (as the ball is being pitched you need to step). The pitcher however may not step more than +/- 60cm (24 inches) forward (it has to be within the pitchers plate).
I spend six days per week for twelve months straight practicing catching, throwing, and hitting a softball. My friends call me crazy when I have to leave their house at ten o’clock on a Friday night to go play in a midnight madness softball tournament. They think I am insane for travelling to away, out-of-state tournaments each weekend. However, ten years of competitive, travel softball and nearly nine hundred games have molded me into the person I am today. Many people do not understand why I spend the majority of my time playing competitive softball, and they fail to recognize that my entire identity is a result of this sport. However, I am aware that I would not be who I am without it.
I had played softball in P.E. enough to know the basics…or so I thought. I stood there leaning against my bat listening to Coach McGownd talk. As he talked I began absorbing everything he said. Gone were the days of simply stepping up to the plate to hit. Now, each at bat had a purpose and guidelines to follow in order to maximize the batters chance of successfully hitting the ball. There was so much information—proper stance, proper mechanics, how to set up in the batters box based on what you wanted to do (i.e. bunt, pull the ball, hit opposite, slap hit), and so much more. When Coach McGownd finished giving us our instructions, we shuffled off to our assigned station and began doing our assigned drills. I happily watched as the older, more experienced players took their swings. The sweet pinging of the metal bats against the balls and laughter blanketed the field. I patiently waited as the older players took their turns. When my turn came I picked up my bat, stepped up to the tee and followed along as my brain got its clipboard out and started checking off each step I had just learned. I took my swing and was awarded with a nice popping sound as I made contact with the ball. I knew then, that this sound of the bat making contact with a ball would become one of my favorite sounds. I continued to rotate through the drills enjoying the repetitiveness of the task. Time passed by quickly as I got lost in the
The game of baseball has several elements of motion to it – throwing, catching, hitting, running – but I’ve chosen to focus on the physics involved in hitting a baseball. To a spectator, the exchange is simple: the pitcher throws the baseball, an opposing batter tries to hit the ball. Even to an athlete, the process is not one of thought, but of instinct and action. However, in actuality, the laws of physics dictate everything that will occur from the moment the baseball leaves the pitcher’s hand. Even the very familiar equipment o...
Baseball was my life for fifteen years; learning values and tracing favorite memories back to my baseball journey make me grateful for these experiences. However, after a year of playing baseball in college while battling an injury, I decided to alter my goals; ultimately choosing to leave baseball behind. Finishing out the school year and anticipating what I might expect in the future left me feeling lighter; I believed I made the right choice. While on summer break, reflecting on my decision and thinking about my next journey, I became uncomfortable: I was no longer athletically active; I was no longer dedicated to a team, and I did not anticipate the search to find myself would leave me feeling uneasy. My fresh start began by transferring
"Understanding the Mechanics of Throwing a Baseball May Help Protect the Shoulder and Elbow ." Baseball Pitching. Web. 30 Apr. 2014. .
After many hours of practice I had mastered catching and throwing, which is needed to be successful in softball. At this point I was able to catch and throw a softball voluntarily and efficiently. Also, I was able to adequately perform various tasks subconsciously. For example, when I played on third base, if the ball came to me I was able to determine where to throw it next without having to put much thought into it. In addition, I could also adapt to various changes. For example, I knew how to adjust my performance when playing on a flat field vs. a hilly field. On a hilly field, I would make sure to examine where the bumps were so that when I ran to catch the ball I wouldn't trip and miss it. As I achieved skillfulness I become more consistent with my catches and throws. When I first started playing softball, on average, I would catch about 60% of the balls thrown at me. When I reached this age I was catching about 95% of the
There I was walking to see who made the softball team. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, worried that I would not make the team. As I looked at the names nervously, I could feel goosebumps appearing on my arms. To my surprise my name was on the list and I could not have been happier.
Along the rocky road that is my softball career, my team and I have learned quite a few lessons. Not only did we get to know each other and the game of softball, we were also taught about life. We learned that to get where we wanted to be, we had to push ourselves, constantly practicing and working hard. Our team also had to overcome our many obstacles through perseverance. Another thing we had to learn was how to believe in ourselves and each other. As a player on that team, these things that the game has taught us- working hard, persevering, and believing- have become my laws of life.
I encountered a “bump in the road” at a young age. I began playing softball at age six when Kylie, my elementary school friend, came to show and tell with her first place T-ball trophy. At the time, I had only played soccer, but the thought of swinging a bat as hard as I could and having people in the stands cheer for me, inspired me to ask my mother to register me for the local recreational league. Before I knew it, I was lacing up last year’s soccer cleats and stepping up to bat in my first coach-pitch softball game. My father, being the coach, stood on the mound and lobbed in the fattest meatball every hitter dreams of. With the ding of my second-hand garage sale bat, the ball sailed over the shortstop. Some may have called it beginner's luck, but I called it a sign.
Mine and Jackie’s barrier are pretty similar, well it involves the small five ounce, nine inch in circumference, little red seamed and white ball. Ever since I was little I was always fascinated with it, and the environment. On those sunny saturdays, with the cool breeze of the air brushing against my arm, to the stormy sundays when the frigid moist lies on my lips and my legs in tight knots, I’ve always enjoyed the game called baseball. Since my first grand slam (tee ball) I realized that I’m a pretty good baseball player and I could be if I kept working on it. Then it hit me, literally. While I was jogging to first base, I had this sudden moment of realization that hurt worse than the baseball. Could I make the high school baseball team?
It’s fair to say that a good baseball game can lie in the hands of the pitcher. According to an article by the American Journal of Sports Medicine, 50 percent of professional baseball pitchers experience elbow or shoulder pain due to the way they throw the ball. Because not much research has been done on professional baseball athletes, the purpose of this publication was to find at what point in the pitcher’s technique does most of the damage occur. The study began by taking 40 pro-baseball pitchers, all ranging from the age of 23-33 years old with relatively the same height and weight. Also, thirty-two of the 40 selected are right-hand dominant. Then they placed 3 cameras in different parts of the field. These cameras would take still frames of the pitchers and their technique when throwing the ball. They found that at the point where there is maximum rotation (aka the cocking phase) the distraction force was low.
The announcer began announcing our team to start the introduction for the game. Since I was the lead-off batter, my name was echoed over the park first. It was at this time that the feeling elevated; the feeling that makes every baseball field so special. As my teammates yelled for me, while I ran to the nearest baseline and faced the crowd, the feeling gave me goose bumps and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. The feeling is so amazing that it will keep me playing baseball for as long as possible because it makes my love for the sport that much more. I can't even begin to explain the complex feeling I get when I walk on a baseball field, but that feeling will always be cherished and hopefully when I pass on my love of baseball to others, they will too understand what that special diamond makes me feel like.
It was two days until the first game of my last high school football season. My team and I were going to play Bayfield, a battle we had persistently prepared for since the last game of our junior year. The sun was beating on my pads, radiating the heat to make practice seem even worse. I was exhausted and looking forward to the end of my last sweat poring practice for the week. Our team was repetitively executing plays to make sure they were like second nature to us on Friday.
I was able to feel each cold strand as they tickled my fingers. I must be a ghost! What else could I be. I thought to myself before standing back up. It was odd seeing myself do everything. I couldn't imagine people doing this everyday.