Unnamed

bride124

United States

Writing is a big part of me and my daily life. I want to share it with the world so I joined this website. (P.S: I like followers and to do/receive peer reviews). A INCREDIBLE PIECE: https://writetheworld.com/groups/1/shared/
114991/version/219125

Message to Readers

Please if you will enjoy and click the button below if you felt yourself in this piece as you read.

I Hate Baseball (Inspired by "Summerland")

September 20, 2017

 "Oh, C'mon Dad. You know I hate baseball. I don't even know how to play."
 "But after this, you will." 
 "Dad, you have to erase your delusion of me being the next uh... Bambo thingie."
  My baseball maniac of a dad shakes his head in a cocky way.
 "The Bambino, kid. Do you even know who he is?"
  I shake my head.
 "Babe Ruth, kid. Learn about him sometime, would ya?"
  I sigh.
  "You said the same about some Ty Corn Cob."
  "Ty Cobb, son. Gotta learn your facts kid."
   Dad wiggles his naked hands from the steering wheel, which  bothers me.
  "Dad, what if I go to a soccer camp instead of a baseball one. I know that better than baseball talking about batting averages, and at-bats and other stuff. It's so confusing."
  Dad shakes his head again.
  "First of all, the nearest soccer camp here in Stowe and it cost three hundred dollars... every week. And I'm NOT putting twenty-five hundred dollars down the drain. And besides, once from this camp, you'll learn about baseball this summer, I'll buy you a mitt and we can play catch with a baseball. 
   I stare at my thighs. I knew that was all Dad longed. A real bond. To act like a normal family. Even after Mom died. She would have wanted it that way, though.
   I sigh again. After about fifteen minutes of driving, my dad parks somewhere and opens the car door for me. I close my door and we walk inside the building. As soon as me and Dad walk in, there are a bunch of kids my age, sitting down with their parents. The kids swish their feet with anticipation, I think " Why are they happy? Baseball sucks. I hate baseball."
   I slump in a nearby chair, hating this place already. " Baseball sucks. I hate baseball,"  says the mantra repeatedly in my head. A shy boy probably ten (my age) accidentally elbows me and mutters "Sorry. I didn't mean too." 
   I notice he didn't seem hype about this as the other kids. 
   "Do you like baseball?" 
    The private boy shakes his head.
    "I like video games. Mom forced me into this because she realized I'm an indoor type of person. She wants to change that. I don't see the problem."
     I nod. I don't see the problem either. 
     "How 'bout you?"
      "Same reason. 'Cept my dad forced me too. Because he was bored of staring at me in the kitchen and in the living room. But I'm pretty sure my mom wouldn't force me to go here."
       " So what did she say?"
        I bow my head.
       "Didn't say anything. You can't if you're in heaven right?"
        The boy's mouth made a perfect O.
        
"I'm so sorry. What happened?"
        "A stroke happened about a month ago. It hit her hard. In the lungs, brain, ev'ry thing."
         The boy extended a hand.
         "The name Taylor. Taylor Handle."
          I shook it.
         "My name is Jacson. Jacson Montelli." 
          As soon as I finished my sentence, I knew I would like the sport now.
     
  
    
  
  
 

Print

See History
  • September 20, 2017 - 6:17pm (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.

4 Comments
  • bride124

    Thanks!


    4 months ago
  • mason wong

    This is the best!!!!


    4 months ago
  • bride124

    Thank you for your criticism. It means a lot and it's deeply appreciated!


    almost 2 years ago
  • RedWriter

    I actually do like baseball but I like the way you tell the story! I love the line staring at your thighs because its what we do a lot but no one writes down


    almost 2 years ago