My First

            I remember waking up early that spring morning for fear of oversleeping. I barely slept a wink; I was way too exited to sleep. All I could think about was how this could be the start of something very good. I had dreamed about this day ever since I started playing fast pitch baseball. The varsity baseball coach wants me, a little sophomore, to start a real varsity game. .
             It was first light on Tuesday and I was wide-awake, even though I am not an early morning person. I was ready for school a half an hour early. My mom had been yelling at me because the minute I woke up I cranked my stereo up to "Eye of the Tiger." I always listened to that particular song before I started a game; the beat really pumps me up. I had on a new pair of jeans and my brand new varsity jersey, number twenty-two. Twenty-two was not my normal number but someone on the varsity squad already had my number, twenty-five. .
             I have never been that excited while going to school. When I finally arrived, my joy was apparent in the form of an enormous smile on my face. As I walked through those cold metal doors I could feel my head grow with esteem. .
             Damron 2.
             Just then I spotted a few of my friends. You could tell they were in awe from seeing the purple and gold letters of my varsity jersey. They were even more stunned when I told them I was starting for the team tonight. We went to a big school: no one under the junior status played on the varsity team. Although the team was having a slow start my friends could still not figure out how I got picked to pitch. I told them I knew I was that good all along, when in reality I was wondering the same thing myself. I threw hard and have pitched a few good junior varsity ball games, but nothing too special. .
             The school day seemed like the longest I have ever sat through. The baseball team got out of our last class period a little early so we could get dressed and ready for the big game.