It was first light on Tuesday and I was wide-awake, even though I am not an early morning person. I was ready for school a half an hour early. My mom had been yelling at me because the minute I woke up I cranked my stereo up to “Eye of the Tiger.” I always listened to that particular song before I started a game; the beat really pumps me up. I had on a new pair of jeans and my brand new varsity jersey, number twenty-two. Twenty-two was not my normal number but someone on the varsity squad already had my number, twenty-five.

I have never been that excited while going to school. When I finally arrived, my joy was apparent in the form of an enormous smile on my face. As I walked through those cold metal doors I could feel my head grow with esteem.

Just then I spotted a few of my friends. You could tell they were in awe from seeing

When I stepped off the bus my stomach sank to my toes, my throat got dry, and my fingers went numb. The sky was dark and slightly cloudy. It looked like it could rain in a couple of hours: I hoped the rain would wait till after the game. Somehow I walked to the dugout and got my cleats on. I had to sit there for a moment and let my surroundings soak in. The smell of freshly cut grass, the bright white chalk, and the music playing over the loud speakers was all I could take. I was getting very anxious to take the mound. Snapping out of my trance, coach was yelling at me to go get warmed-up. As he tossed me the pearly white Rawlings I trotted to the warm-up mound. My arm had never felt better; pitching on four days rest was perfect.

The school day seemed like the longest I have ever sat through. The baseball team got out of our last class period a little early so we could get dressed and ready for the big game. Even though it was just a regular season game and meant nothing to most people, I knew it was possibly the biggest game of my young career.

I was starting to get feeling back in my arm when my parents showed up. My mom was freaking out. She acted like I was dieing. After the trainer assured them I would be ok, he started looking at the problem that had ended my day on the mound. He told me it was just a sprain, and I would be ok after a couple weeks of taking it easy. That was good news and bad news. The good news was I would be ok eventually, and the bad news was I had to lay low for a couple weeks.

It seemed as if the Francis Howell North Knights were using their best pitcher against us because our batters could not make good contact in the first inning. “You can do it,” my mother yelled as I walked to the pitchers mound. Af

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