Sports Memoir

For my English classed, we were asked to write a one page memoir about different topics. One of the topics was sports, so here is my "sports memoir." Not to brag or anything, but I got an A on it. *Insert smiley face here*

I claimed the left side of the sofa and was wearing the same pinstriped jersey I had worn for a week. With all the events that had happened in the past, every superstition was necessary. My entire body was numb and my heart was beating a mile a minute. I waited my entire life for this moment, but because I was so nervous, I could barely watch. Before Brad Lidge delivered the pitch, memories of my favorite team flashed in front of my eyes like a baseball history flick.

Worried about a second coming of Joe Carter, there were more bad memories than good. I remembered each and every of the ten thousand losses, even if the the first one came over a century before I was born. I felt the stomachaches I used to get watching Joe Roa pitch. I heard the boos that filled the stadium after Pat Burrell was caught looking. Year after year was heartache and I became accustomed to losing. I questioned why I put myself through this misery. As Tug McGraw would say “Ya gotta believe!”and I quickly found my answer: my faith, love, and passion toward the game and team that I loved since the day I was born.

A true die hard fan, I do not quit on my team, even if they are losing by ten runs. Growing up around the game of baseball, I watched my dad play and listened to stories from my grandparents. My favorite movies were of the baseball genre, and I loved sporting my red jersey. As the years went on, baseball and my team became an obsession, watching every game and checking statistics on the internet or in newspapers. No matter how awful they were, I was not embarrassed to say they were my team.

The pitch was on its way to home plate, and before I knew it, Eric Hinske swung through Lidge's slider, and I heard the deep voice of Harry Kalas. “The Philadelphia Phillies are 2008 World Champions of baseball!” Goosebumps covered my body and tears of joy rolled through my eyes as I watched the team form a dog pile on the pitchers mound. The twenty-eight year championship drought and years of bad memories did not diminish the euphoria of the moment. The bad memories are forever gone, and the 2008 Phillies fulfilled my lifelong dream.


Reverend Paul Revere said...

You know what I remember most from my childhood as a fan: Hating Mitch Williams.

Now, as a grown-ass man (see immature soon-to-be 25-year-old), I remember smiling and smiling and smiling for all of November. Every last day. It was glorious.

I still despise Mitch Williams by the way.

How do you spell retard? said...

I remember one of the last English papers I wrote got the comment "I don't believe this is appropriate"

Even though it was public school, I guess talking about surrealist poet L.D. Groban and calling Gandhi a pussy won't get you an 'A'.

Reverend Paul Revere said...

Gandhi is a pussy.

Post a Comment