Narrative Paper

Narrative Paper

I woke up on a hot July morning the summer I turned twelve.   I could hear the birds chirping outside already and could smell the bacon my mom was cooking in the kitchen to go with breakfast.   I was anxious that day to get up and get going, since it was the day of our big baseball game.   We had all practiced very hard for this game, as it was one that we could not afford to lose.   After all, if we won, this was the game that would put us, the Padres, in the championships.  
After eating the scrambled eggs, hickory-smoked bacon and apple butter toast my mom had made for me, I was careful to go through my baseball bag to ensure I had all that I needed:   my favorite Rawlings Cal Ripkin-signed leather glove, my dark blue 28- ounce aluminum bat and my Nike high-top steel spiked cleats.   My double-knit, navy blue and white baseball uniform, which my mom had just cleaned, still smelled fresh from hanging on the line outside to dry.   I suited up and was ready to go.   All I still needed to do was to stop by Kenny’s house, my fellow teammate, to walk to the baseball field together that was two blocks from my house.
Kenny was the best player on our baseball team…and he knew it.   At age twelve, Kenny was a towering six feet tall and 180 pounds of pure muscle.   He played short stop like Derek Jeter.   He was quite intimidating to our rival teams, and we felt lucky to have him on our side.   Kenny was not always the best “team player”.   Because he knew he was the best player on the team, he sometimes took advantage of his position by showing up late, displaying unsportsmanlike conduct and in general, acting lazy during the games while still making the plays needed to win.   It all came too easy for Kenny, and some of us resented him for not trying as hard as the rest of us.
When I got to Kenny’s house that summer morning, I yelled out to him, “Let’s roll, Kenny, or we’re going to be late!”   Kenny was still gathering his equipment together and was not ready to...