Dominican Republic

The count was 2-1, I was up to bat. The score was 5 to 4, in the bottom of the 9th inning. The pitcher lifts up one leg and twirls his body, releasing the baseball. I ponder my next move, as I see the ball accelerated towards me. I get in position, swing, and let it rip. “Clank!” the baseball slices through the air, going over the wall. “HOME RUN!” My teammates shout. Where I grew up, nothing was better than hearing the impact of a baseball.

In the Dominican Republic, baseball is huge, and I have been playing the sport since I've been born. My position was left field, and I was a big hitter. I have always known I was good at baseball, and hoped someday I could take my talents and play for the Dominican Republic national team. Money was tight in our family, and my brother, Carlos, was recently diagnosed with brain cancer. I know playing for Team Dominican, and receiving a contract, I could help out Carlos with his treatment. At supper, my Mother had announced that I was invited to a baseball camp for the most elite Dominican Republic players. I learned that there will be scouts watching. I knew this was my shot if I wanted Team Dominican to acknowledge me.

Over the next month, Carlos was getting deeper into his treatment, and I visited him in the hospital daily. The baseball camp was today, and I was focused and determined. At the end of the camp, they divided into two teams and we scrimmaged. My team started off slow, but we ended up on top, winning the game 5 to 3. After the game, I went to visit Carlos in the hospital and told him how well I played. I could tell he was proud of me, but at the same time, I knew he wasn’t feeling good.

A month later, a letter came in the mail from the Dominican Republic Baseball Association, inviting me to join their team. It was a dream come true, knowing that I could finally get the chance to help Carlos while playing the game I love. Later that night, I got a call from my mother.

“Tom, where are you?” She quaked.

“At the house,” I replied.

“You need to come to the hospital immediately,” She stuttered.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Carlos is not feeling good, and might not make it,” She stammered.

“Okay, i'm on my way,” I answered.

I was in complete shock and rushed to the hospital. I arrived at the hospital, but by the time I got there it was too late. Carlos had died. I was so devastated, and I fell to my knees with the only thing on my mind, Carlos.

Four months have passed, and our first game was today. We faced Puerto Rico. The game was starting and I went in at left field. That's when I stop playing for a contract and started playing for my brother, Carlos.