Xander+Assa

<> THE GRANDSLAM To hit a homerun for the first time shocks not only me, but also my friends. It all started one morning when I heard “knock knock.” The thumps of the knock echoed through the halls, into my Temperpedic bed. Drunkenly rising from my bed, I walked to the brown door. “Who’s there?” I yelled while leaning on the door as if it was a pillow. While leaning on the door, I could hear no answer. So I scurried to find my standing chair. Although I was still in a drunken mood, I could still see and think. Finally, after I slipped and landed on my white standing chair. There it was, planted right next to the oven. My mother bought this 2 step chair because she knew that the family needed it. The chair was used for helping my mom grab her uncooked pasta, and Instant Mie from the cabinets. My dad also used the chair to raise up his old rusty cars every time he would fix them, and I always used the standing chair to look through the small peephole in the door. Tired and half asleep, I scanned the outside hallway. There I saw my long time friend Wilfred. Wilfred screamed, “WAKE UP!” Wilfred met me when I first moved in. he had light brown skin. It was more of a beige color. Wilfred and I were about the same height. As Wilfred stood outside in the hallway, I got ready to go outside. Pleased and delighted, I opened the wooden door and zoomed to the front yard. That day Wilfred wore his high heel shoes. He would always wear his high heel shoes on a hot day. I would always make fun of him for wearing those shoes. Wilfred told me that the reason why he wore shoes was because his mom told him to wear it. The air was hot as if you were in a volcano, and the concrete floor was as hot as an oven preheated at 1000 degrees. Wilfred stated, “Lets play baseball?” “Ok”, I replied. Wilfred scampered to his house, and brought his green Wilson bat and brown glove. Unexpectedly, I sprinted to the field. Wilfred was just a couple steps away. Our baseball field really didn’t have any bases. The kids in the apartment complex used the environment to play baseball. The sticky maple tree as first. The really low ditch as second. The triangle shaped floor as third. Apparently, home plate was never decided. Nobody put home plate as a base because no one could get anyone out. Before Wilfred and I started the game we had to call some of our mates. We both knew who to call. Wilfred started, “Lets get Josiah, Alan, Johanas, Glen, Rio, Leo, Chris, Bright, Karl, Aubert, Joel, Romi, and Claudia.” “Ok. But be alarmed Wilfred because I’m goin to hit my first homerun.” “Yea right,” replied Wilfred. So we sprinted to the middle of the field. The middle of the backyard field was the center of Woodbridge Gardens. Happily, kids from the apartment complex would come and play games. Football, soccer, baseball, cops and robbers, kickball, and BBQ were some of the things people in the complex and out of the complex would do. As we arrived on the ovenly hot grass, we yelled, “Josiah, Alan, Johanas, Glen, Rio, Leo, Chris, Bright, Karl, Aubert, Joel, Romi, and Claudia.” Suddenly, a congregation of adolescent kids appeared. We split into two teams. 7 people were on my team, while 6 were on Wilfred team. He had 6 people because he was an expert at baseball. I was up to bat. Wilfred, unfortunately, was the pitcher. In his little league team, he was the number 1 pitcher. Mysteriously, people would tell me that Wilfred would throw a curve ball that was 60 mph. The fastest pitch was 65 mph, but only Wilfred could throw that fast. Timid and nervous, I swung the bat back and forth. First pitch strike. I knew that the next pitch was going to be furious. Wilfred threw the white ball. Suddenly, I felt erg to swing. BANG. The ball tumbled to third were Alan was. My feet sprinting as hard as it could, I slid into seconded. Next up to bat was Bright. A while be Bright made 5 homeruns. He was seconded at hitting homeruns, and Wilfred was number 1. First pitch was a knuckle ball. Everyone heard a BANG. As my eyes blinked I noticed the ball soaring into right field. No one was there. To reach home plate I had to sprint like Usan Bolt. Bright stayed at 1st, while I scored. The next 3 batters got struck out. Sad and depressed, I had to pitch the ball. The only pitch I knew how to throw was a curve ball. My curve ball was the same pitch for the next 2 batters. Surprisingly, my curveball worked. When Wilfred came to bat I made a huge mistake. My hand threw a fastball. Wilfred’s favorite pitch was apparently was my fastball. BANG! The ball sailed all the way to the parking lot. Next to bat was Johanas. Johanas never knew how to hit, so I threw under hands. Like always he got out. For the next 8 innings, the score was 2-1. Wilfred with 2, and I had 1. Finally, it was my turn. The team was losing by 1 point. Leo on 3rd and 2 outs. If I hit the ball and make a miracle homerun, the team will win. If not we would lose. Wilfred threw 2 pitches. Both strikes and both 65 mph. It all relied on this one pitch. As I swung a drop of sweat hit the dirt. BANG!. My feet raced back to home plate. Rio, who was at 1st, ran and threw the ball to home. Swoosh. I slid into home. There was only dirt in the air. My happy eyes opened and I could see that the ball missed the plate. “WOOT WOOT,” screamed everyone on my team. There I was laying on the dirt and smiling. Everyone who played that game will never forget that day ;when I hit my first homerun.