Baseball-Personal Narrative

“This one is coming to you Vee!” my dad yelled! I was at baseball practice. I was in the outfield, the overgrown and bee infested outfield.
My dad picked up the bamboo bat, threw the ball up in the air, and swung the bat. The ball went sailing over my head. I ran, and ran, and ran all the way to the ball. I picked up the ball and fired it to the cutoff man. “OW!!” I exclaimed! My arm had hurt like it had never hurt before. It was a sharp pain, that ran up and down my arm, like mice scurrying away from a cat.
My dad jogged over. He told me to take a break.
So I sprinted over to the bench and watched my team practice.
By the time practice was over my arm did not hurt anymore, so I just ignored it. Every practice the same thing would happen,

I did my usual, boring warm ups, that stretched my arm out. Then I went and started warming up with the catcher. About 10 minutes later it was game time. I stepped out from the dugout onto the dusty field.
Once again I threw a couple more pitches, then the umpire yelled, “PLAY BALL!” The first batter stepped up to the plate. I walked him on four straight pitches. The pain in my arm was back. Five runs had already scored in the first inning. There were 2 outs and bases were loaded. I threw the pitch.
The batter swung and hit this one to the furthest part of the field it can go without going over the fence. While the batter was running the bases I was grasping my

You would be in more pain than that, if you had tendonitis,” he explained. About a week later my team went to the batting cage. I when we came in my dad said that I was up first. I slapped my helmet on and slithered under the netting. I stepped up to the plate.
“Here comes the first one,” my dad yelled trying to be louder than the old, rickety, pitching machine. The pitch came flying towards me.
I took a step, started swinging and… “OWW!” I screamed in agony! This had topped any pain I had ever had. My bicep had felt like a million tiny men were stabbing me with sharp knives.
My dad told me to go take a break.
I ran upstairs in the viewing area, where my mom was sitting.
My mom felt my arm and it hurt so much. She ran down the stairs and told my dad that she was taking me to the doctor.
“Tendonitis,” the doctor said, after many different tests on my arm. “You see, the only way to cure tendonitis is rest, that is why it is so bad to have. You can’t play for another week,” the doctor explained. He gave the number to the Sports Medicine Doctor to my mom.
We drove home and told the news to my dad. So the next few games I rode the pine (sat on the bench).
I went to the Sports Medicine doctor with my