Final Draft
It was only a fly ball, but I missed it. I missed a fly ball in the final baseball game my 3rd grade year . It was a beautiful day, a few clouds covering the extremely blue summer sky. It was very hot. I remember this because of the tremendous amount of sweat that would run down my face while I stood out in right field. When I heard that crack of the bat, all I could hope for was that the ball would not come my direction. I have never had good luck, so the ball was coming right for me. I didn't even have to move, all I did was put my glove in the air and again hope it hit my glove. It did hit the glove but bounced right out and behind me. Now all there was to do was pick up the ball and throw it. It was not this simple for me. …