Leaving the Park
In the spring of my seventh grade year, I exercised my final season of eligibility of little league baseball. Just avoiding the cutoff date by a week, I would be one of the few thirteen year olds to take the field. It would also be my first year of making the all – star team, a goal I had since I had first entered the major league division of Shaker Valley Little League three years prior. As a starting pitcher, I was pretty confident that I would finally get the chance to show the the league that I had deserved to make the roster.
After a season of playing fairly well, I had earned my spot. The only thing obstructing my happiness was the fact that I had to play under a new coach. It’s not that Coach Renaud, (or “Calves” as I referred to him in my head because his legs resembled bowling pins) was a bad person, but as head coach of an all star team that was littered with his own players (his son included), I had predicted that I may not get to see the mound much.
To little surprise, my prediction came true. Being a pitcher who did not throw a curve (and one that was not of blood relation to anybody on the coaching staff), I was effectively shut down. Inside I boiled. I had made the team as a pitcher, don’t I deserve to pitch? From the start I was thrust into right field, …show more content…
My parents who had taught me how to play, and had seen me improve over four years of high school, had completed the match with me. They sat right behind the fence, and I could see them there during each point. Inside, I trembled, because I knew it would be a while before I would be able to play again. Squinting, I looked to the scoreboard on the baseball field across the parking lot. Calves, now the head coach of the high school team, was somewhere over there, packing his helmets and bats with his son after yet another loss. I smirked, but I also wanted to thank
In the spring of my seventh grade year, I exercised my final season of eligibility of little league baseball. Just avoiding the cutoff date by a week, I would be one of the few thirteen year olds to take the field. It would also be my first year of making the all – star team, a goal I had since I had first entered the major league division of Shaker Valley Little League three years prior. As a starting pitcher, I was pretty confident that I would finally get the chance to show the the league that I had deserved to make the roster.
After a season of playing fairly well, I had earned my spot. The only thing obstructing my happiness was the fact that I had to play under a new coach. It’s not that Coach Renaud, (or “Calves” as I referred to him in my head because his legs resembled bowling pins) was a bad person, but as head coach of an all star team that was littered with his own players (his son included), I had predicted that I may not get to see the mound much.
To little surprise, my prediction came true. Being a pitcher who did not throw a curve (and one that was not of blood relation to anybody on the coaching staff), I was effectively shut down. Inside I boiled. I had made the team as a pitcher, don’t I deserve to pitch? From the start I was thrust into right field, …show more content…
My parents who had taught me how to play, and had seen me improve over four years of high school, had completed the match with me. They sat right behind the fence, and I could see them there during each point. Inside, I trembled, because I knew it would be a while before I would be able to play again. Squinting, I looked to the scoreboard on the baseball field across the parking lot. Calves, now the head coach of the high school team, was somewhere over there, packing his helmets and bats with his son after yet another loss. I smirked, but I also wanted to thank