Creative Writing: Teddy Baker: The Big Defeat

Improved Essays
Teddy Baker: The Big Defeat
When I was younger I was a lanky boy in middle school, who could only dream of one day becoming an All-Star baseball player. The problem was, I could barely throw a pitch. I tried real hard to master it… trust me; I’m just not one for sports. This was the case ever since I was seven. But after six years, the suffering ended and I moved to Miami, Florida. Now, you’re most likely asking yourself, “How is moving going to replace your bad talent?” Well, let me tell you. It all started when I moved in next to an old baseball field, and considering it looked vacant, I decided to go over and practice some pitching. Little did I know I was walking on claimed lands, and before I knew it, was bombarded by four mangy looking
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Oooh, Timothy Gerald Baker you’re in big trouble mister!” My mother was not pleased, she was ballistic!
“Mom, it’s not what it looks like… just hear me out.”
“This excuse of yours best be good, Timothy, or you’ll be grounded longer than the time you broke your father’s office window with that silly ‘ole baseball of yours!”
“Baseball! Yes, Mother, that’s what this whole thing is about… see I went over to that baseball field to practice my pitch, and apparently, that baseball field is claimed by those rascals. So, instead of getting a black eye, or tormented for the rest of my schooling days, I told them they could come over here for dinner!”
“Fine! But, this is the one, and ONLY time you ever have contact with those poor mannered lads. You hear me boy?” she whispered in a firm, and effective voice.
“Yes mother!” Boy, was I lucky. As soon as she turned around, I ran into the house to find the guys, who knew what they were up
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Dino was pitching them dead, and my team’s only hope was Johnny. We got up to the 10th inning, going strong, but staying tied; the sun was setting, and the moon was coming out to play. As I was gazing up at the wonderfully bright stars I heard a sharp call from the pitcher's mound… it was make or break. My palms were sweating and I couldn’t tell if my pulse was either going really fast, or was just nonexistent. I knew I should have dropped out but Johnny’s words just kept sticking in my brain, repeating over and over again. I couldn’t take it anymore… I had to face my

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