Christian Lopez

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American Dream

As I slip on my soft white baseball pants and slowly button up my uniform, I feel every stitch running across my fingers
Putting on my cleats with such gentleness and care, I lace them up tight so they hold the power which lies within them
The crisp feeling of my cleats crunching on the clay infield dirt, I lightly jog to where I am suppose to be
Warming up getting my arm a nice warm feeling, I throw the 9” white leather ball to my teammate on the other side
When I come into the dug out, I feel the rubber mats under my feet which are cushions absorbing every step I take

Smelling the strong yet pleasant scent of pine tar on my hand-crafted wood bat, I grab it and take a few practice swings
While I am out taking swings, the smell of the warm, mouthwatering stadium foods fills the air
The grass, freshly clipped just hours before, gives a hint of a bittersweet, green feeling odor
Discussing with my teammate about the opposing pitcher’s curveball, I smell the pungent stench of his cinnamon chewing tobacco
I step into the batters box, assuming the catcher has some soreness because I could sniff the foulness of the tiger balm on him

Stepping between the vivid white powdered chalk lines, I am focused like a predator locked on its prey
I clearly see that the outfield is playing deep about 30 feet from the fence, my initial thoughts are “go for the line drive up the middle”
There are no runners on the white pillow-like squares which are the bases that span 90 feet away from each other in a diamond
The pitcher gets into his wind up which appears to be quite smooth, and hurls a fast ball approximately 93mph from his right arm
I see the ball in flight with the red laces spinning so fast that it looks as if there aren’t any seems, the catcher traps the ball in his glove and that’s the first strike of the game

Hearing the crowd as one being overjoyed as the game is underway, gives me a joy inside that all those people in the stands are there to watch me perform
The second pitch is thrown and as its coming, I start my swing and I hear the hard maple make contact with the leather ball and I hear a satisfying crack as the ball travels toward the outfield
The crowd goes crazy as I round first base on my way to second and I hear the infield communicating with the infield to make the play at second base
I start to slide as I hear the slap of the ball hitting the shortstops full-grain leather glove and when I get to the base I hear one word which I hopefully wait for. “SAFE”
These are the sights and sounds of my American Dream

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