Descriptive Essay On Softball

As Paige and I walked across the field towards our team I felt euphoric. Four long years of work, sweat, and dedication had led up to this night. It was the perfect end to my senior year of softball. The scoreboard just beyond the mass of sweaty, screaming softball players read 15-0. This was the final score of the district championship game, a game my team had never won before. The applause and cheers of the fans echoed in my ears for hours afterward As I lay on my bed, that night I could still hear the umpire calling “ballgame” and solidifying victory and our mark on Mountain Grove Softball history. The adrenaline and excitement of the moment were still running through my veins as my mind started to drift. I soon found myself thinking of

As the clock struck 3:15 we began warming and limbering our muscles. I stretched my legs as far as they would go to the side and reached for the grass. I ran my fingers through the grass and counted along with the team. I felt my legs slowly begin to loosen with each stretch and sprint that we did. Following our series of warm-ups we began playing catch Pop! The sound of a ball hitting leather filled the outfield. As our coaches approached the throwing stopped and the field returned to silence, the buzz of anticipation in the air. Coach McGownd and our assistant Lori gave us a run-down of the practice plan, which included infield-outfield (IO), hitting drills, fielding drills and various base running drills. As he spoke, a few of the upperclassmen whispered back and forth amongst themselves. I caught bits and pieces of phrases like “come on it’s just the first day” and “how about no”. I stood drinking in every word and ignoring their muttered curses. I had never played softball and was determined to learn as much as I possibly could about the game. Coach McGownd asked us to go to a position we thought we might want to play. I ventured across the field and stood by first base. My parents and a few of my friends had told me that I would make a good first baseman so that seemed like the best choice to me. I had no clue how to actually play the position. My emotions ran amuck, ultimately stopping at optimistic.

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