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Three Strikes and Your Out!

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S: Three Strikes and Your OUT! By Tommy Fasano

FC: Three Strikes and Your OUT! | BY, Tommy Fasano

1: Dedication | I dedicate this story to my friends and family that gave me lots of great ideas to put into this story. i also dedicate this to Mrs. Balzano for helping me get through this essay when i wasn't understanding something.

3: Whack! I flew like a kite soaring through the air getting higher and higher, the crowd was on their feet roaring and cheering like you never imagined. My fuel was running low and I started to slow down getting lower and lower, the wind blew me to the right and that was the life changing experience of my life. The man hung over me, “Drip, Drip” was the sound of his sweat drops hitting the counter right in front of me. The man kept on mumbling about the same thing over and over again it was hard to figure out at first, but soon enough I was able to figure out what he was saying. “My job's on the line;” he murmured “you have to be perfect.” Stitch by stitch, lace by lace I was slowly put together and the wait was agonizing. Finally the job was done, the man who made me slowly picked me up and turned me every which way to make sure that there were no scratches, marks or mistakes so that I was perfect. Then he placed me on a self, in front of me there sat a mirror, I was amazed, I was made into a baseball.

5: I had perfect white skin and beautiful red seams running down both sides of my body. I looked to my left and then to my right and it looked as if I had two new neighbors. The one on my left was also a brand-new baseball and to my right was an older looking football. “Howdy neighbor” the football said “my name is old lace.” “Yup that’s good that’s old lace for yah he has been here for years and he is surprisingly not grumpy. My name is Johnny and I’m pretty friendly.” “It’s nice to meet you both, but the question’s that are on my mind right now is why was I made what is my purpose,” I said to Johnny. “You and Ix are here to picked for something very important I don’t know what it is yet, but I heard my god talking about it.” Johnny exclaimed.” “God?” I said with a weird look on my face. “Yes,” he said “The man who made us I call him my God because he made me.” I heard the sounds of footsteps walking through the door as our conversation came to an end. “Hello” our God said “You are from the world series?” “Correct, and we came here to choose the ball that will be used in the World Series,” the men said.

7: Hold on one second,” our God said. He came to the back and picked Johnny and me up and Johnny. On the walk there he kept on mumbling words so fast that you’re not even able to understand them. We’ve made it kept I can see the table right in front of us and behind the table stood the two men I could have sworn that one of them was staring me right in the seams. Our God placed us on the wooden table to be examined. “Both of them were a job well done, but one of them really stands out,” one of the men said. They took a moment and whispered to each other. “We have our decision; we believe that the one on the right will be the ball that will be played in the World Series.” The one on the right, the one on the right! That’s me! That’s me! I screamed aloud. I didn’t mean to hurt Johnny’s feeling, but I think I might have. I was picked up off the table and put into a nice cozy glass case. I told Johnny that I would see him later, but he just nodded. At this point I was too excited to notice Johnny's feelings.

9: I felt a lump in my throat as we left the place where I was made, I was with little anger and felt very melancholy and then just a few short hours later I found myself in a car with two strange men. It felt as if hours had passed since we had left; then, finally the car came to a stop. He opened the door and I couldn't believe my eyes a huge stadium stood in front of me. Just as I was about to take in all of the wonders around me a blanket was thrown over me so I couldn't be seen. The mummer of roars started to emerge. Finally everything was clear the blanket was ripped off and in front of me stood hundreds of shouting fans. I was handed over to the Yankees pitcher C.C Sabathia. The game has begun and I am trying to do the best I can with my job go with the flow. I get thrown I get hit and caught so I really don't have to do anything. With each throw I was filled with excitement, but nothing big ever happened. Boom I was hit fast on the ground right to Derek Jeter’s glove man did I feel like jumping up and down. WOW! I can't believe that I was in the hands of Derek Jeter! I flew around going to glove to glove in swift movements until it all came to an end when I landed in C.C’s glove. Whoosh Strike 1, I was thrown at full speed strike 2 I heard the same man say. One

11: last throw..STRIKEEEEEE 3 the man yelled. The crowed was on their feet cheering, and the Yankees were now up. it felt weird playing against the Yankees. It was going good and they were getting hits; and I was all over the place. The Yankees were scoring and the air felt good. Every time that I was hit it surprisingly I didn't get hurt; the cushion around me was my protection. Smack!! I went higher and higher and the crowd was cheering. I was running out of steam I started to get lower and lower; the awe of the crowd was dreadful. The wind started pushing me to the left to the foul zone. Smack I hit a not familiar glove. The spectator held me up and I saw that I was in the stands I hear voices all around me saying “you're so lucky” or “I wish I was you.” I was placed in his lap for a long while he made sure that I wasn’t going anywhere. The lack of movement made my adrenaline rush go away. I decided to sit back and watch the game even though I wasn't up close and personal in the action. For some reason I started to taste cinnamon I looked up and saw the dropping fall on me from the churro that he was eating. Finally the game was over and my new owner got up to stretched and descended down towards the Yankee players that were celebrating the victory down below. We finally made to the players and they decided it would be ok to sign the game ball. The taste of sharpie was atrocious as it ran all over my body, but I didn't mind because I felt like a star . When that was finished my owner walked through the gates of the stadium towards his car. Once again I’m on the move again was placed in a seat in his car and there was yet again another car ride. The wait was agonizing, but fun because he had his radio on and he was expressing his joy in the art of singing

13: He took me out of his car and walked me inside of his house. I looked around and got to know my surroundings. He placed me on a shelf in a glass case in his living room next to many other signed balls of all sorts. I got to know them and learned that I may be retired, but there was hope one day he may have a kid and I will be able to be thrown again. As I sat on the shelf I saw my old friend, Old Lace. Apparently at one time he was also a game ball. At that point I felt terrible of how I treated him as I left my first self, I never said goodbye, but as soon as we started talking again I realized that just because he was older, didn’t mean he was as important as me. Old lace had many years of experience and graciously let me have mine knowing I would soon learn that friendship is not measured in age or stardom, but by being happy for others’ achievements. And remember one moment in your life can change everything so do your best and work for what you would want to be when you grow up because nothing is impossible. The End

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  • Title: Three Strikes and Your Out!
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  • Published: about 9 years ago