Personal Narrative: My First Softball

It was a bright, boiling summer morning when I picked up my first softball. The atmosphere was still consumed by the enthusiasm of small children as they prepared for their lengthy summer. I thought nothing of the day- it was merely another summer day filled with melting temperatures and boisterous children. Sports were nothing new to me at that moment, for I had heard the numerous tales of how my father had succeeded as a baseball pitcher and endured many hardships in the process. At the time, softball was simply another time-consuming activity to decrease my infinite amount of energy. As a young girl glancing upon the abilities of my older teammates, I was instantly intimidated. The precision and coordination which my peers possessed seemed to surpass my own by a lot. I was already much younger than many of my classmates, and had not even reached my fifth birthday yet while entering kindergarten. The capacity to reach the level of expertise which my teammates possessed appeared impossible to my young mind. However, my mother and father insisted that I must continue my family’s legacy in the sport and exceed their expectations. I hesitantly stepped through the dew-covered blades of grass, so consumed by my nerves that I failed to notice the dew covering my shoes and

I owe to them not only my success in the sport, but also my confidence and determination. My first experience playing softball was by no means extraordinary. I did not make an amazing play, or hit a homerun to improve my team’s confidence in my capabilities. The memory still rests in my mind as a reminder of my own confidence and the beginning of the construction of my own positive self image. I will forever be grateful to my friends for leading me into a sport which continues to encourage me to display my best abilities, and achieve more than I ever imagined