Narrative Essay- Strike

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Nicole Morgan Mr. Albano- Humanities 3/9/14 “Strike, Strike, Strike three. You’re out!” I replay those five simple words often in my head, too often if you ask me. Someone may say, “What’s the importance in those five words?” “How can those five words bring back such a painful experience?” “Why would one hold onto five simple meaningless words for years?” I have one answer to all the questions, “I hold onto those five so called meaningless words because four years and two months ago, I lost faith in myself. I quit the sport I loved, softball. One hundred degrees, read the temperature. “Mom, I can’t believe we have to play the playoffs in this heat.” “It’s going to be a tough one, but you can do it. Just remember to drink plenty of water, and remind yourself that your team is undefeated!” “Obviously mom.” I stomped out to the car annoyed already wanting to skip the game, but I knew I couldn’t let my team down. I loaded my softball bag stuffed with my equipment into the trunk. As I was sitting in car, the scorching sun was beating down on my arms and legs. I felt my legs burning and now my face. I thought to myself, “If I can’t even last five minutes sitting in a car, how am I going to be able to give my top performance out on the field?” Five minutes had passed, and my family finally started driving over to the field. “Halfway Gone,” blasting through the speakers. My boisterous brother jumping up and down in the seat, was not helping with my anxiety. Visions of failure flooding my mind, and the nagging voice in my head that plagued me all season, telling me I don’t belong. That I’m not as good as the others, and they will succeed unlike me. We arrived at the field, and the energy was mixed. My teammates were suave, and jumping with excitement. They were
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