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Baseball

Discussion created by blr1222 on Apr 5, 2013
Latest reply on Apr 5, 2013 by jerrycoin

When I was 7 years old, I remember watching the Boston Red Sox lose the 1986 World Series.  At that point, I knew I needed to be the one to break the Curse of the Bambino.  I gathered up a group of friends and headed to the park with a ball, a glove, and a bat.  We played for hours, analyzing each others' baseball skills.  We continued doing this almost everyday throughout the rest of the year, even when it was snowing.  Soon enough, it was baseball season.  I joined my local Little League team and began doing nothing but think about baseball.  I'd think about baseball morning, noon, and night.  I was fascinated by the game.

 

I guess all this thinking about baseball actually paid off because my Little League was having quite a successful season and we were going to the Little League World Series.  The team we were up against was from Texas and they were incredibly good.  It seemed like all of their players were home run hitters.  But we still managed to hold our own.  We made it to Game 7.  I was playing my best.  We had worked so hard and everything had led up to this moment.  After quite an intense few innings, the teams were tied 3 to 3.  The other team was at bat, and the game was really coming down to the wire.  The other team's coach made a last minute change and suddenly we were facing off against their star hitter.  Our pitcher, Jimmy, threw a nice curve ball right at him.  Strike 1.  The whole stadium was silent.  I felt the blood rushing to head.  I was so tired and playing on pure adrenalin.  Jimmy threw the ball again, this time right towards the center of his bat. But he still missed.  Strike 2.  Now I was starting to get excited.   Jimmy threw his last pitch.  At this point, I was sure we had won.  I stood there preparing my face for the glory that was soon to overcome us.  Out of nowhere, I heard a loud cracking sound.  The sound that a bat makes when it hits a ball extremely hard.  I looked up and saw the ball headed straight for me.  It was almost making a perfect trajectory right for my glove.  I held up my hand, awaiting the comforting feeling of a ball secure in my leather mitt.  The ball then landed about 4 feet in front me and rolled straight through my legs.  I stood there in shock and watched as the batter ran from base to base.  He slid into home and the other team was jumping for joy.  At that point, I fainted.  When I awoke, I thought to myself -- can the Curse of the Bambino ever be broken?

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