Short Story: "Steve's Road to the Show"

Curveball outside.

            “Ball one!”

            Change up low.

            “Ball two!”

            Now, he has to throw a fastball down the middle.

            Crack!

            “Going, going… Gone! And the magnificent Steve has done it again, winning the game for the Arrowheads!”

            I can still hear the announcer now. I know that I am good at what I do, but everybody is making me feel like I am better than I really am. Or, do I really live up to all of the hype? Am I, Steve, really “the best baseball player to ever come through Philips County”? Am I really one day “going to represent our small town well in the Major Leagues”? I guess I’ll see how things go after this scout tournament.

            “Steve, I have something to tell you,” said my sister, Laura. I could feel the negative energy in the air.

            “What is it?”

            “I was laid off today. Apparently there were budget cuts, and, of course, they fired me because I am the only Black person.”

            I could see her eyes begin to water with frustration. Ever since Mom died, my older sister worked extremely hard to provide for us. She is only twenty-two years old, and she has been working for six years. I remember when she went on her first day of work; she missed my game-winning hit for the twelve-year-old all-star team that I played for. I never knew my father, because he left my family when my sister was young, and the game was a couple of weeks after Mom’s passing. I celebrated with only my team that day.

            “I was the hardest working person in that entire office!”

            The tears are rolling now.

            In my sympathy for the both of us, I asked, “Maybe you should sue them. They cannot do that to you—or, rather, to us!”

            She reminded me that, “we cannot afford a lawyer. I’ll just have to look for another job.”

            I walked over and gave her a large hug, and promised her that everything would work out. We wept together for about 10 minutes, and proceeded to eat our TV dinners and go to bed.

            All the while, I remembered that I could end our suffering if I lived up to the expectations of my community. I had the first game of the scout tournament coming up, and I was ready. I spent a week in the batting cages, awaiting the tournament.

            Finally, the time came. I showed up in my stir-ups and red jersey. The sweat stains on my hat accurately represented how hard I worked to get to the level I was at. There were a few people over six feet tall, and there were a few people over two-hundred pounds. However, I noticed that I was the only one that was a combination of the two traits. This made me a shoe-in.

            The other catcher, however, was very similar to my size. His name was Brian; I remembered him from the first game of my senior year. That game, he was the one to get the clutch hit and win the game for his team. We were similar sizes, and at similar skill levels.

            Before the game, they recorded pop-up times. Our times were identical at 1.8. I knew that the day would be a challenge. When the game started, we both performed well. We threw out 3 base-stealers each in the first 8 innings. I got us ahead in the games, with my superior hitting skills. Unfortunately, he always got a timely hit to keep his team in the game. I realized that my next, and likely last, at-bat would be very important. Before stepping into the box, I looked at Laura giving me a thumbs-up. Then, I heard mom’s voice in my head:

            “Son, no matter what predicament you are in, or how good things look for you, always stay humble; things can change in a quick hurry. Always be happy for whatever positives you have going on, and do not complain when things are rough.”

            I stepped into the box.

            I remember this pitcher. He pitched for the Venoms in the tournament last year. He struck me out three times that tournament. Each time, he decided to start off with a change-up. That is likely what I will get this time.

            I was right. Crack! I dropped my donated bat and began to round the bases. I knew that the ball would clear the fence; I did not need to look at the ball go out for assurance. As I rounded third base, I looked into the crowd and saw my sister jumping and yelling. I, again, heard my mother’s voice, repeating the same verse. By the time I stepped on home plate, I had a single tear falling down my cheek.

            The next half inning, Brian came up to hit with a runner on base. We were winning 10-9 in the bottom of the ninth inning. There were two outs. I gave the pitcher the signal for a fastball on the outside corner of the plate. Once the ball left the pitcher’s hand, I could see that things would not work out so well. The ball was coming toward the middle of the plate. Crack! Brian hit the walk-off homerun and won the game for his team. He dropped the bat and walked pompously around the bases, all the while staring at the pitcher. This was really disrespectful, but why did it matter? They had one. It was over.

            However, in the parking lot, a scout walked up to me.

            “Hey there, son. I am here to offer you a contract for the Florida Marlins. They are willing to give you a large signing bonus of $2 million. How does that sound?”

            My heart dropped, just as it did when I heard that I was never going to see my mother again on this Earth. However, this time, it was more exciting than depressing.

            “Why are you not offering this contract to Brian?”

            “Brian’s attitude was sub-par. I really appreciated how humble you acted after you hit that timely homerun. Body language is very important.”

            Wow.

            “Well, sir, I think we can make a deal here. This is an offer I cannot refuse. Thank you very much.”

            As I walked away toward Laura, one more tear rolled down my left cheek. My sister never has to work again. I have done it. We have done it.

Short Story: "Steve's Road to the Show"

Curveball outside.

            “Ball one!”

            Change up low.

            “Ball two!”

            Now, he has to throw a fastball down the middle.

            Crack!

            “Going, going… Gone! And the magnificent Steve has done it again, winning the game for the Arrowheads!”

            I can still hear the announcer now. I know that I am good at what I do, but everybody is making me feel like I am better than I really am. Or, do I really live up to all of the hype? Am I, Steve, really “the best baseball player to ever come through Philips County”? Am I really one day “going to represent our small town well in the Major Leagues”? I guess I’ll see how things go after this scout tournament.

            “Steve, I have something to tell you,” said my sister, Laura. I could feel the negative energy in the air.

            “What is it?”

            “I was laid off today. Apparently there were budget cuts, and, of course, they fired me because I am the only Black person.”

            I could see her eyes begin to water with frustration. Ever since Mom died, my older sister worked extremely hard to provide for us. She is only twenty-two years old, and she has been working for six years. I remember when she went on her first day of work; she missed my game-winning hit for the twelve-year-old all-star team that I played for. I never knew my father, because he left my family when my sister was young, and the game was a couple of weeks after Mom’s passing. I celebrated with only my team that day.

            “I was the hardest working person in that entire office!”

            The tears are rolling now.

            In my sympathy for the both of us, I asked, “Maybe you should sue them. They cannot do that to you—or, rather, to us!”

            She reminded me that, “we cannot afford a lawyer. I’ll just have to look for another job.”

            I walked over and gave her a large hug, and promised her that everything would work out. We wept together for about 10 minutes, and proceeded to eat our TV dinners and go to bed.

            All the while, I remembered that I could end our suffering if I lived up to the expectations of my community. I had the first game of the scout tournament coming up, and I was ready. I spent a week in the batting cages, awaiting the tournament.

            Finally, the time came. I showed up in my stir-ups and red jersey. The sweat stains on my hat accurately represented how hard I worked to get to the level I was at. There were a few people over six feet tall, and there were a few people over two-hundred pounds. However, I noticed that I was the only one that was a combination of the two traits. This made me a shoe-in.

            The other catcher, however, was very similar to my size. His name was Brian; I remembered him from the first game of my senior year. That game, he was the one to get the clutch hit and win the game for his team. We were similar sizes, and at similar skill levels.

            Before the game, they recorded pop-up times. Our times were identical at 1.8. I knew that the day would be a challenge. When the game started, we both performed well. We threw out 3 base-stealers each in the first 8 innings. I got us ahead in the games, with my superior hitting skills. Unfortunately, he always got a timely hit to keep his team in the game. I realized that my next, and likely last, at-bat would be very important. Before stepping into the box, I looked at Laura giving me a thumbs-up. Then, I heard mom’s voice in my head:

            “Son, no matter what predicament you are in, or how good things look for you, always stay humble; things can change in a quick hurry. Always be happy for whatever positives you have going on, and do not complain when things are rough.”

            I stepped into the box.

            I remember this pitcher. He pitched for the Venoms in the tournament last year. He struck me out three times that tournament. Each time, he decided to start off with a change-up. That is likely what I will get this time.

            I was right. Crack! I dropped my donated bat and began to round the bases. I knew that the ball would clear the fence; I did not need to look at the ball go out for assurance. As I rounded third base, I looked into the crowd and saw my sister jumping and yelling. I, again, heard my mother’s voice, repeating the same verse. By the time I stepped on home plate, I had a single tear falling down my cheek.

            The next half inning, Brian came up to hit with a runner on base. We were winning 10-9 in the bottom of the ninth inning. There were two outs. I gave the pitcher the signal for a fastball on the outside corner of the plate. Once the ball left the pitcher’s hand, I could see that things would not work out so well. The ball was coming toward the middle of the plate. Crack! Brian hit the walk-off homerun and won the game for his team. He dropped the bat and walked pompously around the bases, all the while staring at the pitcher. This was really disrespectful, but why did it matter? They had one. It was over.

            However, in the parking lot, a scout walked up to me.

            “Hey there, son. I am here to offer you a contract for the Florida Marlins. They are willing to give you a large signing bonus of $2 million. How does that sound?”

            My heart dropped, just as it did when I heard that I was never going to see my mother again on this Earth. However, this time, it was more exciting than depressing.

            “Why are you not offering this contract to Brian?”

            “Brian’s attitude was sub-par. I really appreciated how humble you acted after you hit that timely homerun. Body language is very important.”

            Wow.

            “Well, sir, I think we can make a deal here. This is an offer I cannot refuse. Thank you very much.”

            As I walked away toward Laura, one more tear rolled down my left cheek. My sister never has to work again. I have done it. We have done it.

Short Story Setting

Philip County, Kentucky. usually warm, now harsh weather.

Present day.

Short Story End/ resolution

Steve is offered a contract over Brian because he is more humble. He is able to provide for himself and his sister.

Short Story End/ resolution

Steve is offered a contract over Brian because he is more humble. He is able to provide for himself and his sister.

Short Story Plot/Central Conflict

1. sister gets laid off
2. Steve and Brian both play well in the tournament
3. Steve has a vision from his mother, reminding him to be humble
4. Steve gets a timely hit, but stays humble.
5. Brian gets the game-winning hit, but he shows out and is arrogant

Short Story Character Analysis

1. Steve- Main character. plays baseball and is really good. Wants to help his sister.
2. Laura- sister. very hard working. provides for herself and Steve, since Mom died.
3. Mom- passed away. Always taught children good morals and values. Loved.
4. Brian- another baseball player. just as good as Steve, but arrogant.

Short Story Point of View

This story is written in the first person point of view, narrated by Steve, the main character.

autobiographical narrative

            Have you ever had to put up with somebody, although you really did not want to? I have personally done this many times, unfortunately. One specific time that I can remember was playing baseball for a coach that did not like me. This was quite a test for me.

            When I was ten years old, I played in a baseball league in Ladera, California. I played for The Angels, and after our winning season was over, I was selected to play for the all-star team. The coach of this team was also the coach of the Giants during the regular season. The Angels defeated The Giants on the two occasions that we faced each other. Over these two games, the coach of the Giants gained a strong dislike for the coach of the Angels, and eventually a dislike for the team in general, which included me.

            When practices started for the all-star team, he seemed to be very strict. However, I noticed that he was more lenient to certain kids than others, and I was not one of the lucky few. In fact, I thought that I received some special treatment, in that I was treated worse than everybody else. I was a good player, and I proved that during the regular season, which is why I was selected. Unfortunately, I was told by the coach that I was not good. This seemed to set a tempo for what I figured the rest of the season would be, and I did not like the forthcoming events that I saw. However, I did not quit, because that is not, and has never been, the way that I do things. So, I persevered through numerous practices, withholding comments. I did, unfortunately, learn that I likely was not going to get very much playing time when the games started up.

            Soon, games started, and, sadly, my prediction was correct; I was on the bench for the first game. In addition to being on the bench, I had to bring the equipment to the field. I felt that the coach was purposely burdening me with ample grief. However, I did not complain to the coach. This went on for the first three games.

            At the fourth game, I was overjoyed to hear that I was going to play in the third inning. Unfortunately, the coach sent me to right field. The coach knew what my positions were, and he knew that right field was not one of the positions on the list. However, he insisted on making me play at that position, basically setting me up for failure. I alternated between right field and the bench for the next 3 games. We eventually made it to the sectional finals. Again, I did not play. However, the game went into extra innings. The coach decided to let me play in the seventh inning. I was happy to get the opportunity to help my team win an important nail-biter. I went up to the plate in the eighth inning with a runner on third base and the score tied. I realized that a clutch hit would win the game. The pitcher threw a fastball over the middle of the plate, and I ripped it into left field for the walk-off single. I was praised my almost everybody in a Ladera shirt, including my cousins who came to cheer me on despite my circumstances. The last person to walk up and show his “appreciation” was the coach. All that the ungrateful man did was slap me on the helmet.

            What this experience taught me was that perseverance pays off in the long run. I could have quit at whatever time I desired, but I decided to keep going despite what I had to handle. Also, I learned that you cannot always please everybody, and you have to decide who is important enough to try to make happy.

Persuasive Essay #8

“Many cities suffer from serious air and noise pollution—as well as traffic jams—because of too many cars. Some people feel that cities with extensive public transportation systems should ban passenger cars and force people to walk, bike, or use public transportation. Do you think this is a good idea? Why or why not?”

Imagine every time you did something positive you stabbed yourself in the leg. Eventually, you will die. The knife that you are jabbing into your appendage represents pollution. Pollution is the by product of factories, cars, motorcycles, and things of that nature. Everyday people are working in factories. The more they work, the more waste the building emits. Cars a re also driven everyday. Have you ever seen the emissions coming from the tailpipe of a vehicle? A bus, perhaps? Have you ever wondered where the gaseous emissions are going? Well, if you were not aware, it is released into the atmosphere. This pollution is unhealthy, and it accumulates.

            Many people feel that banning passenger cars and forcing people to find other means of transportation, such as public transportation, walking, or biking, is the best way to alleviate the current pollution problem. I believe, however, that this is completely absurd. I think that people are too programmed and used to driving and relying on passenger vehicles for transportation to make such a drastic change to public transportation. Also, people paid good money for the cars that they have, and they deserve to use them. I, however, do not know a solution to the pollution problem, but I am confident that professionals can find a better resolution.

persuasive essay #7

“Many of us spend hours in front of our computers and communicate more by e-mail or instant-messaging than in person. Some people believe that this is good because it helps shy people communicate more openly with others. Others believe that computer communication prevents us from developing interpersonal skills and limits our ability to have meaningful relationships with others. How do you feel about this issue? Use specific reasons and examples to support your position.”

If you immediately need to contact your associate, or group member, for some homework problem, what is the first thing you would do to reach them?  One thing that you could do is get on your computer in your room and contact them through Facebook.  Another thing you could possibly do on that computer is contact them through My Space.  Finally, on the computer, you could Instant Message them.  You could do so through America Online Instant Messenger, Yahoo Instant Messenger, or MSN Instant Messenger. You could also use your cellular phone to fix your problem, which most teenagers do.  One possibility is calling the other individual.  Another idea would be to send them a text message.  Finally, you could contact them through a social network, such as Facebook or My Space, or through an Instant Messenger, such as American Online Instant Messenger, Yahoo Instant Messenger, or MSN Instant Messenger, on your phone.  However, there was a time when not everyone had cellular phones and computers in their lives.   In recent days, these things have almost become necessities.  About fifteen years ago, people mostly communicated in person.  They would call people and they would even send an email or a letter in the mail every once in a while.  Communication has drastically changed over the years--especially over the last twenty-or-so years.  I do not know why this is so, but it seems that things are still changing and doing so very quickly.  Will the changes in forms of communication ever slow down?

Persuasive Essay #6

“As part of the ‘war on drugs’ and in reaction to an increase in school violence, many schools across the nation now conduct targeted searches of student lockers and backpacks. Although the Supreme Court has ruled that public school officials have the right to search students’ persons and property when they have reasonable cause to suspect weapons or drugs, many people feel this is a gross violation of students’ privacy. Others feel that since school officials are responsible for the well-being of students while they are in the building, they have the right to search for drugs or weapons at any time. How do you feel about this issue? State your position and explain with specific examples”

Have you ever been invited to smoke something with your friends?  Did they tell you that it would make you feel good and remind you that everybody does it?  Even more important, did you type “attending” in the RSVP?  Did you accept and go “fit in” with everyone else? Unfortunately, many teenagers in the United States of America go through the aforementioned scenario.  What is even more unfortunate is the fact that a great number of these innocent teenagers also accept the invitation.  Smoking marijuana, which is a common issue for teenagers in my environment makes you feel good and makes everything better, according to abusers.  However, according to physicians, the drug kills your brain cells and slowly brings you closer and closer to death.  Smoking cigarettes, according to society is cool.  Smoking cigarettes, according to dentists, stain your teeth.  Smoking cigarettes, according to doctors can lead to lung cancer which can very well lead to death.  To me, smoking anything is just not worth my life.

Well, this just goes to show that teenagers abuse drugs. Also, teenagers go to school. Therefore, there are often drugs at school. Many people would consider that to be a problem. Although I do think that this could be a problem, I do not think that it is worth giving teachers a right to search through students bags. This could bring forth many issues, such as the searchers finding personal items that have nothing to do with what there are looking for. Also, it could be quite embarrassing to have your things searched through for drugs. I do not think that drugs in a bag are very threatening to students that are not holding the drugs.

On the other hand, if it is said that a student is carrying a weapon around, I think that it is a situation in which the student’s bag can be searched, as the weapon can possibly harm other students. So, there are certain scenarios in which the searching students’ bags is applicable, but this is not for all situations.