The American Sport

    I remember the scene as if it was yesterday.  The loud screaming of two twin newborns, the wailing of the ambulances around the hospital, but the loudest of them all was the ringing in my head after I had received the news.  Not the news that I now have two younger siblings, a boy and a girl, but that my mother had died while giving birth to these screaming little bundles which were normally full of joy but these cost my mom’s life.  I was now fatherless and motherless.
    The day before this my mother drove rapidly to the hospital.  When we got there she told me to stay in the lobby and wait for her to come get me after the joyous moment.  I thought it would only be a few minutes, a half-hour at most, but quickly it was an hour and I was bored.  Soon a nurse came in to check in on me and gave me a snack.  I was becoming nervous and panicked.  Finally after about 27.5 hours, about 20 of them I was sleeping, I heard a voice calling me.  I awoke with a start, then realized it wasn’t my mom.  I laid back down and the same nurse came to me and said that I could come see my new baby brother and sister.
    When I heard I had two siblings I nearly fainted with excitement.  Then I wondered why my mom didn’t come and get me but I quickly lost that thought with excitement. 
    The nurse led me down a hallway and made me look through a big window.  She showed me where my little siblings were.  As I was looking at them I wondered why they weren’t with my mom.  I finally asked the nurse where my mom was.  At first she just looked at me, thinking, with a sad expression and finally she replied saying that my mom had died.
    I was shocked and just stared at her.  I thought she just was playing a cruel joke on me.  It took a little while until I realized that she was serious.  That was when I started crying.  I never have cried that much since.  I stood there crying for who knows how long.  The nurse went back to work and I stayed there watching my brother and sister.
    That was 8 years ago.  My two siblings and I now live in a poor, rundown, brick orphanage in a poor neighborhood in New York City. I am 12 years old and wishing to be adopted along with my brother and sister.  I’m getting doubtful that will happen.  Who would want a shaggy haired black kid who talks with a slur and walks with a limp, along with two other kids the same way.  I also wish I could become rich and live in a mansion.  But, my biggest wish was to get out ot this orphanage which I hated yet loved.  I also wanted something I loved to do and was good at.  I wasn’t smart enough for chess or checkers.  I couldn’t jump or throw frisbees.  I just wasn’t good at the programs the orphanage supported.
    But then one day the program advisor came to me and asked if I would want to join a baseball team they were trying to get started.  Fed up with trying something new and being the worst at it, I denied him.  He tried to convince me for days and weeks to come but I kept saying no to him.  Finally the season started and he stopped bugging me about it.  I went on with my life during the first quarter of the season.  Then, one of my best friends who played baseball came to me and said I should come and play at their practice the next day.  For some reason I went just to watch.  As I sat there watching and waiting, the coach came over and sat next to me.  He just started talking to me.  He asked me why I came and I answered that my friend invited me.  Then the coach asked me to play during the scrimmage that day.  I couldn’t believe it, but I actually loved it.  I started coming to every practice but since I started late I couldn’t play in the games, but I didn’t care.  I went to every one of their games and sat on the bench, even though I didn’t dress for the team.
    Ever since I started playing, I was one of the best players.  The first season went by way too fast.  I couldn’t wait until the next season but in the middle of fall the next year,  I started to hear little whispers that got louder and louder.  These rumors said that the orphanage might not have a baseball team again next year.  I was devastated.  I had finally found some thing I love and now it was possibly gone!  I remember spending days in my room for a week or two after that not wanting to see or talk to anyone besides my roommate anymore, I didn’t want to be alive.  Finally that phase passed over.  I talked more and came out of my room.  Unfortunately, I was never the same person after that.  I was sad, gloomy, moody, and temperamental.  All my friends didn’t want to be near me anymore, nor I near them.  It was terrible!
    Finally I went to ask the coach if the rumors were true.  When I got to his office I asked him, “Are the rumors true?”
    He looked at me weird and said, “What rumors?”
    “The rumors of not having a baseball!” I nearly yelled.
    “Oh, those rumors.  Well, I can’t really answer that because I’m not sure either.”
    I bolted out the door and sprinted all the way to my dorm.  People tried to talk to me and ask me what was wrong but I ignored them, which I never do.  I stayed in my room that night, missing my two favorite classes and my favorite supper.  The next day I came out of my room but I was depressed and sadder than ever.  I lived like this for about a week until, in the beginning of winter, I saw a sign hanging next to the cafeteria.  The sign went like this.

                              There will be a baseball team again this year.
                              Those interested meet in my room at 12:00 on
                                                           December 4.
                                                                                                             -Coach Ball

    I glanced at my watch.  I read 11:59.  I thought “If I run, I will only be two or three minutes late.”  I took off at breakneck speed.  I had never run that fast before.  I was halfway there wen I passed my best friend R.J., who also played baseball, and he was going the other way.  He yelled at me with a puzzled look on his face, “Roscoe, where are you going in such a hurry?”
    I yelled back, “I can’t be late for the meeting!” 
    R.J. yelled something that sounded like “What meeting?” but I didn’t understand him.
    I finally got to the coach’s office, went in, and sat down.  I looked at the time, it was only 12:03.  I looked around and no one was there.  I thought everyone was a little late so I jut waited.  Around 12:10 I started wondering where everyone was.  At about 12:15 the coach came in and gave me a startled look.
    “What are you doing here?” he asked
    “I’m here for the baseball meeting.” I answered.
    Coach Ball burst out laughing.  I wondered if it was something I said.
    Stifling back his laughter, Coach said, “Today is December 3.  That meeting is tomorrow at noon.”
    Now it was my turn to laugh.  I turned to leave, feeling embarrassed but all the more excited for the meeting tomorrow.  As I left, the coach was still chuckling to himself and called out to me, “See you tomorrow.”
    That season, as every other season until the end of my high school, went well.  The more I played, the more I loved the game and the more I loved it, the more I wanted to play.  I didn’t keep playing baseball just because I loved it but also because I was good at it.  I was so good I was one of the best high school baseball players, if not the best.
    Soon I was done with high school and I decided that I wanted to go to college.  But I didn’t want to go for the academics, I wanted to go so I could play more baseball.
    I got a full scholarship to the University of Minnesota.  I did fine in school. I wasn’t a straight A student but I got A’s and B’s, so I was able to play baseball.  I was still the best, not only on my team but in all of college baseball.
    My two years of college went by way too fast.  Now there’s talk of pro-baseball drafting.  More and more teams are stopping by to come up with a contract but I’m still not sure if I want to be a pro-baseball player.  I still have that orphanage that I loved and hated at the same time in the back of my mind but it’s slowly creeping forward. 
    I still want to play and give my “not so little siblings” something to watch, which they have done ever since I started, and also a home.  Also if I played I could help the orphanage. 
    I also wouldn’t mind working for the orphanage.  I could see all the kids I grew up with grow up and see all new kids come in.