Baseball is America’s pastime. It’s a child’s dream come true to go their first Major League Baseball game. My dad, my brother, my twin sister, and I piled into the car at 6 o’clock in the morning and headed for Atlanta. It was July 8, 2007, and I was six years old. I knew it was going to be hot that day because at six in the morning it was already unbearable to sit in the car. I was going to Atlanta to watch my first Braves game, and it was the day I would never forget.
When I was four years old my family moved from a house in the city, to a house in the country with a big yard. The front yard is a little bigger than a football field and is perfect for kids playing sports. Ever since I could walk I’ve loved sports and playing them. Between my dad laying in his lazy boy watching every single Detroit Tigers baseball game and playing it with my dad and brother, I fell in love with baseball.
As you can imagine, I was beyond excited to go the Turner Field to watch the Braves take on the Tigers I was more excited to get to watch the Tigers play because that was my dad's favorite team, and I got my love of sports from my dad. The night before I could hardly sleep at all. I kept my brother up all night asking him questions about what he thought the game would be like. Finally, we got there at like eleven in the morning. My dad decided to park extremely far away from the stadium, so we didn’t have to pay to park. That was a mistake because by the time we got to the stadium my legs were exhausted. As we were walking to the stadium there were beggars everywhere. One of the men poked me and said, “Can I have some food?” (I had popcorn in my hands). I didn’t know what to say, so I gave it to him. I gave it to him because I was scared, scared about what would happen if I said no.
The game still didn’t start for another two hours so we were able to watch batting practice. My dad, brother, sister, and I were sitting in the first...