Field of Dreams | Teen Ink

Field of Dreams MAG

By Anonymous

   My year ofwork and dedication has come down to one game, one night, one shot at glory.

I knew before I arrived at Zukor Park that I would never forget thisnight. I step out of the dugout and look up at the stars. Would it be my night,or would the other team walk off the field with the county championship?

Iapproach the mound with determination in my eyes. I look into the crowd and seemy father. He is standing there, arms folded, looking back at me. He nods hishead in encouragement, knowing I can get the job done. I step onto the rubber andfocus myself on the task at hand. The batter steps into the box, grinding hisrubber cleats into the soft soil. The umpire gives the signal to begin. My heartpounds as I begin my wind-up. I kick my left leg into the air and reach back asfar I can. I release the baseball and watch it as it begins its path toward home.

"Strike One!" yells the umpire.

I begin to feel morerelaxed as the ball returns to my mitt. I place my feet back on the rubber andbegin the process again.

"Strike Two!" shouts theumpire.

The catcher again returns the ball as I realize I am not alone inthis battle. I have my whole team behind me with the same goal. Knowing this, Iplace myself back on the rubber and repeat the process once more.

"Strike Three! You're out!"

The crowd roars inappreciation. I begin to walk back to the mound and once again look at my fatherin the crowd. He has a smile on his face from ear to ear. I knew then that thisit would be the best night of my life.

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