Laurel Baseball Narrative
Laurel high school has been the most glamorous of places to play baseball. The grass was scarce, dominated from large patches of dirt scattered across the outfield. Our batting cage left untouched for months at a time, creating a chest high jungle of weeds that consumed you as you entered. There were no perks of playing for the baseball program. The athletic director ignored us, the students didn’t support us, and the School wouldn’t adequately fund us. All we had were ourselves and an insatiable drive to succeed. I entered my freshman year out of shape,and with little baseball talent at all. I arrived at tryouts as an underdog, but I didn’t let that deter me. After three days of intense tryouts, I was named as a member of the junior varsity team. Unfortunately, The season didn’t go
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I was confined to the bench for most of my games and finished with no hits for the entire season. Teammates would cringe when they saw me step up to the plate. Instead of getting discouraged, I looked to the adversity for motivation. That summer I made the commitment to myself that I would turn Laurel baseball around.
As I stood in the batting cage, the mile high weeds stared back at me, challenging me, telling me to take the easy way out and give up. But quitting was not an option, I began cutting the grass and fixing the cage with my dad. Each thorn that pierced my skin was an invitation to give in, but they were to no avail. The only person who could stop me was myself, and I was the only
I was confined to the bench for most of my games and finished with no hits for the entire season. Teammates would cringe when they saw me step up to the plate. Instead of getting discouraged, I looked to the adversity for motivation. That summer I made the commitment to myself that I would turn Laurel baseball around.
As I stood in the batting cage, the mile high weeds stared back at me, challenging me, telling me to take the easy way out and give up. But quitting was not an option, I began cutting the grass and fixing the cage with my dad. Each thorn that pierced my skin was an invitation to give in, but they were to no avail. The only person who could stop me was myself, and I was the only