Personal Narrative: Trip To Tigers Stadium

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Trip to Tigers Stadium Baseball is America’s pastime. It is a child’s dream come true to go to their first Major League Baseball game. My dad, my brothers, Dylan and Dustin, and I piled into the car at 8 in the morning headed for Detroit on 96-East. It was July 7th, 1999, and I was seven years old. I knew it was going to be a hot day because at eight in the morning it was already unbearable to sit in the car. I was going to Detroit to watch my first Tigers game, and it was a day I would never forget. When I was five years old my family moved from a house in the city, to a house in the country with a big yard. The front yard is a little bigger than a football field and is perfect for kids playing sports. I also have four brothers and two…show more content…
The night before I could not sleep at all. I kept my brothers up all night asking them what they thought Tigers Stadium would be like. The car ride felt like an eternity. Finally, we got there at about eleven in the morning. My dad decided to park extremely far away from the stadium so we did not have to pay to park. That was a mistake because by the time we got to the stadium my legs were exhausted. As I approached Tigers Stadium I began to get butterflies. We approached a bridge that took you from one side of the highway over to the stadium. On the bridge crosswalk there were beggars everywhere. One of the men poked me and said, “Can I have your food?” (I had popcorn in my hands). I did not know what to say, so I gave it to him. I gave it to him because I was scared. I scared about what would happen if I were to say…show more content…
My dad, two brothers, and I were sitting in the first row of the outfield when Bobby Higginson, a Detroit Tigers player, came up to hit for batting practice. Sure enough after two swings he hit one all the way to the wall. The ball was right in front of us on the field but we could not reach it. A player picked the ball up, and I started screaming, “Sir! Can I please have that ball?” He looked up at me in the stands and tossed the ball up. I was watching the ball into my glove and just as I was about to squeeze the ball, another kid stole it from me. The kid was a Yankees fan which angered me. He was an orange haired, four foot, freckled face kid. He was wearing a blue Yankees hat, blue Yankees t-shirt, and shades. He jumped in front of me and snatched the ball from me. To say I was devastated would be an understatement. I was in shock and did not know what to do. I would say this is comparable to getting ready to open the first present on Christmas morning and right before unwrapping it, having it stolen from your hands, never to see it again. The thief ran off right away before I even had a chance to say anything or try and catch him. My first Major League Baseball was stolen from and I was crying. I ran to my dad and told him while I was bawling my eyes out. The day went on however and my ultimate goal for the rest of the day was to get a baseball before I went

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