Love and Baseball

One out to go. The Fort Smith Lions baseball team is losing two to three. Zach, a friend of my brother’s, is at bat. The crowd watches as the pitcher hurls the baseball at home plate. Strike one. Again, he lobs the ball forward, a slider. Strike two. We all hold our breath as the ball slices through the air one last time. I hear myself yell as Zach’s bat connects with the ball, propelling it to left field. Only then do I see the ball land in the glove of an opposing outfielder. Out. Game over.

            This is the end of my brother, Austin’s, baseball career. There would be no more traveling all day to watch one game and then go right back home. I sit down, trying to remember when this love, this obsession for the game began.

           

            Red dust flies up behind me as I race around the baseball diamond. It’s a game. Let’s see who can pass home the most times. We ignore our parents telling us its time to go, our brothers complaining of soreness and lack of rest. To our five year old minds, these things couldn’t matter less. All we care about is running around that field as many times as we can.

“Mama, its freezing,” I say as I stand, shaking, beside her.

“Here honey, we’ve got a big, fluffy sleeping bag for you to cover up with. You can sit here in it,” she offers, and I eagerly wrap myself in it.

Its 10:45 on a cold Friday night, and I’m stuck in Batesville, Arkansas watching my brother play baseball. All the normal nine-year-old girls spend their Fridays at sleepovers. I, on the other hand, watch baseball. And for what reason? My parents force me to.

I look over at Bryce and Peyton, throwing something back and forth. How on earth are they not about to die from this weather? Boys are so weird like that.

Everything becomes hazy as I find myself drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Searcy’s high school baseball field is extremely huge. At least, it is to a tiny nine-year-old like me. There’s nowhere to hide. It was like I was put on a stage in front of everyone. So it is impossible to hide my tear soaked face from the crowd that I’m drowning in.

Austin’s high school baseball career is over. He lost his last game to Searcy, of all teams. For the first time, I realize that I don’t want him to stop playing ball. I already know I’ll miss it too much.

Finally, the red shirt is off and Austin is catching for the Forth Smith Lions baseball team. After a year without baseball, I can finally suffer in the heat all day just to see my Bubba play.

It’s hard to believe that all those years I couldn’t stand to sit at baseball games. Now, at eleven, I love it. I always will.

“Abbie, it’s time to leave.”

I’m snapped back to reality by my mama tugging at my arm. I look up to see that the stadium is empty. Austin mutters something about losing his last game. I wish I could say, “Maybe next year,” this time, but I can’t. For the last time, at age fifteen, I walk out of the baseball stadium with my dirt covered brother.

Be Baf A Beagle: The Story Of My Reading Rollercoaster

As a child, I loved hearing stories. It didn't matter what they were about, as long as it was interesting and fun. My favorite storyteller was always my Nanny. She told the best stories. They were crazy and funny, something I could look forward to hearing. My cousins and I would sit in the floor, circled around her, and just listen. There was an endless supply of books at Nanny and Papaw's house. My favorite was "Be Baf A Beagle" or "A Bath For A Beagle" if pronounced correctly.

The older I got, the more interested I was in stories. Soon enough I started to read along with Nanny as much as possible. Two words here, a small sentence there, and more as I grew. Of course, then I got to second grade, and everything changed. I was introduced to the world of AR, or Accelerated Reading.

This program ruined my perspective on reading. I began to detest the idea of having to read a book. I knew that if I did, I would have to be tested over it, and for a reason I didn't quite understand. There were only certain books you could read to get credit. How on earth did any child find that fun? Yet again later that year, my idea of reading changed slightly. I was introduced to Junie B. Jones, a nightmare for any kindergarten teacher. Her series of books was entertaining and funny, they never repeated themselves. Despite this, I still hated being tested over my reading.

Skip forward about four years, to sixth grade. In January of that year, I saw the movie Twilight, and I just had to read the books afterward. The series changed my outlook on reading forever. I was introduced to the exciting world of teenage romance, and also the supernatural. Just like every girl my age, I became infatuated with the very idea of these two things. I no longer minded being tested over books; I knew them cover to cover! The next year or so was a black hole of supernatural romances, all basically the same story. Yet for some reason, I didn't seem to mind.

Ninth grade, however, is when I discovered the good stuff. Nicholas Sparks, perhaps the most talked about romance novelist out there, turned me into a hopeless romantic. I didn't understand how anyone could not like his writing; I still don't, in fact. His stories of tragic romance had me hooked from day one. Whether it was The Guardian, a story of lost love and mystery, or The Last Song, young love at its best, I loved all of it. My favorite would have to be The Notebook, though. Of course, that could change, considering I have yet to read all of Sparks' books. But for now, I think I'll stick with Allie and Noah's story of forbidden love and struggle. Who knows, maybe one day I can finally have a love like theirs.

I am...

I am tiny, yet fierce
I wonder if I will ever make the right decision
I hear a dozen defferent things, all at once
I see my nephew, and my face brightens
I want to be remembered for something
I am tiny, yet fierce

I pretend to sing for an audience that isn't there
I feel as if I've been punched in the stomach by butterflies when I see "him"
I touch the fingertips of my dreams every time I sit down to write
I worry about my Nanny and Papaw, constantly
I cry for laughing so hard at my friends' jokes
I am tiny, yet fierce

I understand that I must be the change I wish to see
I say that I love the Lord, then act differently
I dream of a happily ever after
I try to please everyone
I hope to one day travel the world with my brother
I am tiny, yet fierce

I am Abbie, with an I E.

Turning The Other Cheek

Having respect for others and trying to do right is a key part to living a successful life. By not striving for this, bad actions can come back and bite you in the butt. In “A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings”, our angel is wise enough to know this. He somehow always manages to turn the other cheek, like we are told to do in Mark 5:39 of the Bible.

“But I say, don’t resist an evil person! If you are slapped on the right cheek, turn the other, too.”
         
In the aforementioned story, this man, an angel, falls to the earth. Despite who and what he is, people treat him terribly. They steal his feathers, thinking they will heal any ailments. Villagers cage him in a chicken coop and only bother to throw him leftovers of food they’ll never eat. Basically, they treat him as a circus attraction. Through all of this, he remains calm and patient, always turning the other cheek.
         
When I was in the eighth grade, my best friend suddenly dropped me and the rest of our friends. She was so mad at us for a reason that still remains unclear. She pitted all of her friends against us, and they tortured us. During lunch, these mean girls would throw food at us and constantly talk bad about us to anyone that would listen. My friends and I always tried to ignore them. The girl that started it all later ended up with only two friends because of how she treated everyone.
         
In our world today, children learn to always fight fire with fire. From birth, they think that it’s okay to treat others badly. These children are taught wrong. When raised correctly, we know to always turn the other cheek, like Jesus always did. Maybe if everyone could pick up on this, the world would be a better place to be.