Personal Narrative: Reading The Field

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Reading the Field I hate to sweat! When I think of going outside in the summer I cringe. I can feel the beads of water running down my face into my eyes and inevitably blinding me. Yes, I sweat that bad. It may be because of living in the south where the humidity always feels like it is ninety-nine percent or it may be hereditary, thanks mom and dad; either way I loathe sweating. When I recall the origins of my hatred, I see myself as an adorable four year old sitting in the middle of a tee ball outfield picking at the grass as my teammates made plays. I can feel the sun beating down on me, the grass as I pulled it from its root, and those awful polyester pants sticking to my four year old legs. This was the moment I came to hate sweating.…show more content…
One of my first games with the new team brought up a problem I never had to deal with before. I had no idea what my teammates body language meant. On my old team, I could look at their faces or their stance and tell if a teammate was ready for the play or if he was nervous about making a throw. With a team change, I had to learn to read all new faces. Reading faces is very important when it comes to softball. I had to look at how each person reacted when they made a good throw or even a bad one because each facial expression would teach me a little more about how to read that person in a game…show more content…
The first year you can try out to play for the high school team. I always knew I wanted to play for the high school, so when tryouts began I was extremely nervous. My nerves were magnified by the fact that I did not know a single person there. On the first day of practice, we practiced throwing and hitting so that the coaches could make first round cuts. I remember walking up to the bulletin board after that first day with my hands shaking. After I ran my shaky finger down the list and saw my name was still there I breathed a sigh of relief, and ran to the car to tell my mom. The second day of tryouts was more intense, but I made it through. Finally, on the last day of tryouts and those of us left were split into teams for a scrimmage. This was the day I was most afraid of because it meant I had to hit against a pitcher who was my age and after watching her warm up I could read that she was not completely in control of her pitches. When I stepped into the box and she made her wind up I already knew where the ball was headed and I simply took cover. That was the day I got a softball shaped bruise on my leg and also the day I received my junior varsity uniform. I finally made it on to the high school softball
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