Cava 1
Jennifer
English 98
Sunshine
November 3, 2013
Love for the Game
In the narrative story, “the eye of the beholder” by Grace Suh was about a young woman who realizes that no matter what anyone says it will never stop her from being who she is. I had a very similar epiphany about how I let other people stop me from doing what I love and let their judgment change me. Baseball has been a part of my life for a very long time. Like the narrator of “eye of the beholder” I learned not to let other peoples judgment stop me from being myself.
When I was 13 years old in middle school I would crave for the game baseball. The feel of my glove in my hands and the dirt and leather smell it gave off. To feel the loose dirt under my cleats plus the sound the ball would make when I would swing my bat as hard as I can and make contact with it. I enjoyed running around the four bases and watching the other team going after the ball I have hit. I played for fun. I loved my teammates and how the scream and chant for me. We would always support each other or so I thought.
My team was the best to me because I had my 3 best friends in the world on it with me. Brittanny one of my best friends since I was five who has been with me through everything. When it came to baseball she was an okay player, she preferred gawking at the guys across the field that were playing their own game but they would stop and whistle at her every time she was up to bat. She is a typical flirt but she means the world to me. Now Irma and Daizzy they are twin but so much fun to be with. The always argue with each other and make everything a battle but when it comes to baseball they support each other and cheer for one another. Whenever I need them I know all of them will be there for me.

Cava 2
At our last game for the season, my whole team and I were trying our hardest to win against this really hard team. We all had sweat dripping from our foreheads dripping into our eyes and jumping for the balls as the fly past us. Our coach who was a fat fifty nine year old fat man, who always spits, and screams at us in his southern accent “you ain’t got your hands down low enough.” As for me I played first base and my team mates always say I had a magnet in my glove because I never let a ball pass me or escape from my glove. Now I’m a petite girl, but my height never stopped me from being my best.
At the end of the game as all of us are down from losing them game 7 to 8. I was alone in the dirty dugout full of sunflower seeds on the floor. I heard behind me my three best friends talking trash about me. Know in my head at the time I was thinking “we are friends why are you talking smack.” As I listened to them complain about how I should quite baseball because I’m so annoying and how I only talk about baseball a tear runs down my cheek. I wiped the tear off and packed up my stuff fast and left. Brittanny catches up to me and asks what’s wrong. Can she really be concern about me after what she said? There was no way she really cared, I couldn’t forgive her. I felt like someone grabbed my heart and stomped on it right in front of me.
As the season stared to come once again I decided not to join. My heart just wasn’t into it. When my friends had said those awful things about me I didn’t just loose a friend I lost the love for baseball. My family would ask me why I wouldn’t rejoin but I couldn’t tell them the truth of what happened that day. One day when I went to go see my big sister play