One weekend while I was in the fifth grade, I was at my house with my brother and some of his high school friends. They were playing baseball in the front yard; it was Sunday, April 14th. I had just come up to the front yard after trying to swim in the frigid lake. Standing by my golf cart about 40 yards away from home plate, Cory stepped up to bat. Cory was a huge boy compared to me, and extremely athletic. He swung at first pitch, and the wooden bat split upon impact and sending the ball flying toward the golf cart. Seeing the ball coming, everyone else scattered. I was distracted as the ball was hit, so I saw the ball last and tried to move too late. The next thing I remember was screaming, looking down at my hands covered in blood. The ball had struck me in the face right on the upper lip.

My father escorted me inside and proceeded to clean and try to sooth the wound. After about 30 minutes, I have calmed down and could not feel as much agony. I told my parents I wanted to see the wound. They advised me against it; however I insisted. Upon looking at myself in the mirror. I noticed my right incisor had opened a two-inch hole in my lip. At this point I knew I needed stitches. I went to the hospital with my parents while my brother and his friends tried to find the ball to continue their game.

After the doctor had given me my 16 stitches, he told me something very interesting. He said that stitching me was easy; all he had to do was follow the pattern of the stitches left on my face from the baseball. The following evening I received a call from Cory. He apologized and asked me what my favorite type of ice-cream was. Twenty minutes later he was at my front door with a gallon of orange sherbert, and an offer to take me on a ride through town in his sports car, a 2008 mustang. Having never ridden in a sports car and being the eleven year old that I was, I graciously accepted. My brother and his friends never found the ball, yet several months later I found it under a bush. I still have it in my closet to this day.