As soon as I started high school, my goal was to play college baseball. I played baseball for a very competitive select club that traveled out of town every week from Thursday through Sun as well as practicing every Tuesday and Wednesday. All through high school, I sacrificed my free time in the summer to prepare myself for college baseball. After receiving offers from four year universities as well as junior colleges, I decided that a junior college would provide me the best opportunity to continue to develop as a player. Even though I decided I wanted to play at a junior college, I wanted the experience of going away to college and living in a dorm so I decided to attend a junior college in Iowa where they had dorms for student athletes. Being ecstatic to be able to go off to college and play baseball was short lived. During the first month of baseball practice, I injured my arm, spent two months in physical therapy with no improvement, and then finally receiving the bad news that I would need surgery to improve. Surgery was performed over Thanksgiving break, but I was now faced with months of physical therapy, which meant …show more content…
Being the only child still at home means I am at home with only my mom and dad who drive me crazy by bombarding me with questions every thirty minutes like “hey have you started your homework, hey have you finished it yet, you need to get back on your homework”. Not only does my parents micromanage me about my homework, they want to know where I am at all times, I no longer have the freedom to come and go as I please. After living on campus for a semester and making good grades while playing baseball, I think I have proved that I am responsible and capable of managing my time. No independence is tough, but I miss being in the dorm and hanging out with my
As a kid, I was born and raised to love the great game of baseball. Many young kids have had dreams to become professional athletes, and achieve prestigious awards/ titles. Like many kids I’ve always dreamed of becoming a professional baseball player. As a younger kid with my head in the clouds, I never really knew what it was like to put my actual blood, sweat, and tears into something I loved, until my worst season I had ever played. This whole story starts in the beginning of my ninth grade baseball season. It started out different from every other year because, of course I was a freshman. This was the first year I had ever practiced with the varsity squad, it was much more difficult, but I still figured I was going to do great. After weeks
Later we had our first football game and I was excited for my last first game in high school, I never would have known that it potentially could have been my last game played. Within the first quarter I had broken my foot completely and because of my adrenaline I shrugged it off as a minor injury and played the rest of the game. After to what seemed like I was fine I stood up and collapsed as soon as I did so. This was the first injury that I had ever sustained and I was still in denial thinking I had just sprained a muscle. After being told that I wouldn’t be able to play for the rest of the season I was heartbroken, along with this the college that I had hoped to attend the most being West GA dropped me as a recruit. Two games passed and I was feeling helpless for myself, I couldn’t drive, I couldn’t do anything without the help of others, I had crutches but being a 320 lb. man it was very difficult getting around. As Nancy Mairs said: “I’ve been limping along for ten years now” I was off of my feet for 2 weeks and to me it felt like an eternity. This was when I decided to let college aside and all I wanted to do was finish my senior season strong, my mother allowed me to get my cast taken off and have me put into a boot. For the remaining games I roughed it out and played with a broken foot. Even with
Upon arrival at the opening game of the season for the Whitecaps, I feel very self concious, as if I do not belong here. I glance at my companions and laugh, they probably feel the same way. We walk up the steps of the stadium and I smile, momentarily caught up in the sweet charm of a group of elderly men, playing 'Take Me Out To The Ballpark' in old fashioned brass style. This will be an interesting night at the very least.
I loved everything about the sport, knew everything about the sport, and simply wanted to be physically involved with the sport. I signed up for my local football organization and greatly anticipated the start of the season. My first season our team finished undefeated, winning each game with ease. I played offensive line and enjoyed every play, finally being a part of the sport I loved. My coach at the time admired my hard work and dedication, repeatedly telling my fellow teammates that we should all aspire to have a work ethic such as my own. At the end of the season, my coach suggested I practice to become a quarterback. A quarterback is usually one of the skinniest players on the team, a trait I certainly didn't have. If I were to be a quarterback, I would have to lose at least thirty pounds and practice almost every day until the next season. As crazy as the suggestion seemed to me at the time, I gladly accepted the challenge and almost instantly began to work to become the best quarterback I could
In your first year of college, the decision of living at home versus living in a dorm/apartment is a very hard one to make. The two are very different in how you take on responsibility. In a dorm or apartment, you have to break away from the chain of constantly having a parent/guardian be around to help you take on responsibility. You have to be in charge of getting up for class, keeping grades up, managing your sleep and social life, and how you take care of your surroundings. This can all be satisfying because you’re getting out of your comfort zone and preparing for the real world. However, living at home is another option. When you live at home, you c...
I have watched a lot of baseball matches in my life but the first time I went to see a baseball match will always be an important moment in my life. Since I was a kid I have been watching baseball matches on the TV but watching the game on TV it is nothing compared to witnessing an actual baseball game. It was on a cold night in the month of December; I was eight at that time and I had never been to an actual game so I was excited at that moment. As we approached the entrance of the stadium my excitement grew to the point that I could feel shivers running down my spine. At that moment, I was about to witness the event that was going to mark me for the rest of my life. Even today I can still remember the stadium, the atmosphere of the park,
I really have a passion for sports, softball in particular. I have had a passion for softball since I started playing in the seventh grade. I worked at every practice, so that I could be better than I was the day before. It has always been my dream to play college softball. After I lost my coach, I really wanted to give up softball. Ultimately, I didn’t give up because every time I didn’t try or said that I didn’t want to play anymore I thought of the words of encouragement I received from my coach at the beginning of every game. Her quote was “Never quit, always fight until the very end!” That’s something I will never forget. It will stick with me until I die. It’s one of the main reasons I am still playing softball till this day and why I
Looking into the sky, mesmerized by the sun, clouds, and birds flying above. Looking down at grass stained shoes containing aching feet. Feeling the unbearable heat from the sun angrily asking myself, “Why are we wearing long sleeves and pants in the middle of summer?” Then I hear it, the rare noise that contributes to the small percentage of action over the course of a few hours. The ding of a metal bat making contact with a highly elastic ball. The ball soars to left field. I watch the left fielder fumble with the ball and struggle to get it to second base. The runner is safe and the ball returns to the calloused hands of the only player who gets sufficient game interaction, the pitcher. I am back to staring at the sky, shoes, and grass, becoming frustrated with the heat and the inactivity of this national pastime called baseball. Along with most common ball sports, I had participated and enjoyed the social interactions yet they never clicked with me. They all appeared boring and inactive. Maybe it was my impatience or ADD. The only activities that grasped my attention and provided me with enough entertainment were
My first crush is and forever will be baseball. I have loved baseball since I first met the game. I started playing when I was in fourth grade. Baseball has always made me happy and makes my heart race. It is an amazing game and is so much fun to play. There is always an adrenaline rush when playing the game. If your team is doing well, everyone is always happy and excited, often times scoring runs and they will make amazing plays. But just as easy to be up by adrenaline you can have your heart broken by something as simple as a strikeout or error on the field. The great game of baseball can also result in heartache, sometimes there is the inability to play the game. Games can be cancelled due to weather, or the inability to get clearance by your doctor can result in disappointment. While my doctor would not sign off for me to play in high school, I still have hope, after further testing my follow up appointment will be before the high school season starts.
In my teen years, unfortunately, I was only praised, by family and peers, upon my performance in the soccer field, when and where I believed at the time I had a purpose. I was an avid player and I knew If I became a pro I would be making thousands of dollars to give back my family. My aspiration fell shockingly my junior year in high school, the most important academic year in high school. I tore my hamstring brutally exercising the day before soccer season begun. I didn’t ask for medical treatment and acted if I knew I would be fine. At the time, I was aware that my parents owed a lot of money to credit card companies and also multiple family members. I did not want them to spend a dime on me for what thought was a simple injury, but I was wrong to think so. I couldn’t stand back up for about a month, I was incapable of walking for two months and unable to jog or run until half-year later. I could not regain my condition ever since and I struggled in my return to school two months later since my injury. I gave up on both my goals and my academics. Depression kicked in and I’ve never been the same person since the incident. Before athletics, I was conforming to an unhealthy and criminal-infested culture that introduced me to a life of wrong-doing. I participated in gang-altercations and drugs. My motive of conforming such a life initiated when my grandparents left to live back to Mexico without even saying goodbye. Then matters aggravated when my step-father drinking problem worse making my home turn into tumultuous hell. I felt abandoned and frightened. My escape was this lifestyle that I do so regret. This conformity stopped one day, on my way home walking, in a garden trail when a young homeless man confronted me and a pal, who was accompanying me and also was part of the unlawful lifestyle. The homeless man took
August 22, 2016 was the day my basketball career sadly came to an end. Ever since middle school, basketball has always been my one true passion. I loved basketball with all my heart and aspired to compete against the best one day. However, regardless of my strong ambition, I’ve learned that things aren’t always meant to go your way. Throughout my basketball career, I suffered from a great deal of emotional and physical strain. I was constantly injuring myself to a point where my body could no longer utilize its full athletic capabilities. Yet, I never let the reoccurring pain discourage me from performing on the basketball court. Nevertheless, what truly wrenched the most was the fact that no one supported me. Both my family, friends, teammates,
Back in my prime days I was the “big man on campus” but before I got there I had to start from the bottom. When I first started playing football I wasn’t a beast right away in fact I could barely run a lap around a track, I was that fat kid in the back huffing and puffing for some air looking like I was about to collapse. But I never quit I worked and hard and kept at it, kept grinding and the improvements I saw were tremendously drastic. The disappointment that fueled this drastic improvements was getting cut from junior varsity. Going into the 9th grade that summer I tried out for junior varsity with the mentality that I would automatically make it, I was sadly mistaken, I made it all the way the finals cuts and the coach called me into his office to tell me that I had been cut down to freshman.
However, with the help of my supportive family, friends and teammates, I persevered. During the two seasons I was injured, I learned more about my life than I did the game. Initially, during the difficult and painful days of recovery, I found it hard to enjoy my life. I had some moments of self-pity thinking about what I was missing out on. However, it wasn't longer before I realized that these days would go by much easier if I maintained a positive attitude. I reasoned that this injury would allow me to focus on schoolwork. It also meant I could work out on my arm strength for the upcoming baseball season, my second favorite
I was treated like royalty ever since, but this past year , people had a different view of me. Coaches started to not push me hard enough because they thought I was already the best I can be. I wasn't close to reaching my potential in baseball yet and I just felt unwanted there. I sat down with my dad and had a very extensive talk with him about moving back to Phoenix for my senior year. Pinetop is an extremely small town and had very little opportunities for baseball. In Phoenix there is a wide variety of recruitment opportunities and that's what I was looking for. My father told me that Northwest Christian had a very well known baseball program and I felt relieved in such a way, my only response was how fast can we move. I started to have nightmares about leaving my friends, but the right opportunity was sitting right in my face I just had to take it for me to be
It was the start of summer 2002, and the Mid America Youth Basketball (MAYB) national tournament was taking place in Andover, Kansas. Along with the rest of the team, I was excited to play some basketball for the first time since the middle school basketball season was over. Our team, Carlon Oil, had been together and played every summer for the last four years. We were a really good team, with an overall record of 65-4 over those four years and were hoping to continue our legacy. Lonnie Lollar, our coach for the summer, was also the coach of our high school basketball team. I had a history of groin injuries, and every summer it seemed that I would have to sit out at least a game on the bench icing my groin. But this summer was different, and I along with everyone in the gym wouldn't have expected my summer to end with a injury such as a broken leg.