Brag Sheet - Narrative

Read  Forrester's narrative. See the impressive integration of proper nouns in his work ?

Baseball Tryouts
“One who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.”

~Anonymous

As I step into my dad’s navy Suburban car, I am struck with nervousness. I put on my Adidas baseball cleats after hearing my dad give me advice on pop- flies and grounders. Trepidation filled the March air when I stepped onto the Myers Park Trinity soil. I had never even touched a real baseball bat in my life, yet I was trying out for the best team in the league. I squeezed my Spalding baseball mitt and slowly approached Founder’s Field.

The coach told us to warm up by throwing the Adidas baseball back and forth to each other. A couple of the more experienced players gave me a few tips on how to throw the ball more accurately after I had whiffed the ball a litany of times. For example, to receive a better grip on the ball, put on finger on each side of the ball; put one on top of the ball.

Finally, the tryouts began. Firstly, the coach instructed us to individually run a lap around the diamond, the bases, so that they could obtain our average time. I had become extremely jittery by the time it was my turn, but when the coach stated go, I went. Dust flew up towards the Carolina Blue sky. I sprinted towards home plate after rounding first, second, and third. Even though I had an average Little League score, I still strived for more.

Secondly, the coach instructed us to vie pitching. On my first try, I bounced the ball off the plate and gave the catcher a bloody nose. I stopped and apologized, but that didn’t stop the red, gushing blood from coming out of his nose. I threw balls for the other two. One bounced before it reached home, and the other nearly took the head off of a man walking by. My talent in pitching pretty much states my fielding skills also. I caught zero out of five pop- flies, stopped two out of three grounders, and didn’t make a single accurate throw to first.

At this point, my outcome was obvious, yet I still had to suffer through batting. I swung at and missed all the balls with my Easton baseball bat except for one that went about five inches. Stepping back into my squeaky, leather seat of the Suburban car, I tell my dad how horrible I did. My dad tried to cheer me up, but that didn’t matter. By this point, I had realized that I probably shouldn’t have tried out for the best Myers Park team first, but I should have tried out for a smaller team and worked my way up. As they say, “One who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.”

~Forrester Welch