Application Essay draft 2

Write an essay about something you have outgrown, or anything that has had an influence on you. What, if anything, has taken its place?

It wasn't a lot, really just a slab of leather. One of the only birthday gifts I had received that year, my first baseball glove. I wasn't huge on baseball, but I also wasn't huge on basketball, football, soccer or hockey either. It was really the only piece of sports equipment to my name, and my only gift. My aunt was an avid Yankees fan, always shouting for people like Bernie Williams and Paul O'Neil. I had no clue who these people were, but I knew they were the good guys. So I sat there anxiously with my new glove by my side, and cheered them on too.

Anytime my aunt would sit me down for a game, my mitt, like my companion, was always by my side. I often found my self tossing up a household item into my glove and shouting, "What an amazing catch by Jeter!". Number two was number one in my house. I had never really been interested before, but now that I had a glove I could actually enjoy watching the games. Wanting to be like Jeter, I went outside almost everyday and tried to throw baseballs as high as I could, and catch them as they came back down. My roof and gutters were quick to steal a number of my baseballs, and after my mom's constants complaints, I went to the park instead.

My father parks his car outside of Kennedy park as my friend Charlie and I climb out and eagerly step onto the diamond. Charlie was a decent hitter, he had played a lot more than me, so I went to center field where I assumed he would hit it. With everyone in position my father lobs the ball to the batter, Charlie. He lifs his front leg, then puts it back down and twists his hips swinging at the ball with his body and sends a shot to center field. As I begin to run, the ball starts its descent, and I decide to go for it. The leap of faith I called it; I caught the ball with the rim of my mitt and slid on the grass as it stained my glove. My father stood there, proud of me. I stood there, proud of myself. And Charlie stood there, angry because I had robbed his base hit.

The feeling was incredible, and I knew I wanted to feel it again. I kissed my glvoe, and went on with the day. "Old Faithful" was the nick name I had coined for my glove. For seven years I would play baseball with the only glove I had ever had. The padding had become non existent, so any ball I had stopped would make my hands sore. But I would gladly go home with a sore hand every day if I could make one amazing play with that glove. Way in the back of my head was always the thought that I needed a new glove. After all, this thing was dirty, a little small, and had a hole in the webbing. A fly ball could easily pierce through and crack me on the head.

I found myself at Olympia Sports, gazing up at the wall of gloves. One in particular, had caught my eye and didn't leave. An Easton, the stitching was very elaborate, and the leather I remember had a very strong scent. The light tan color looked incredibly smooth, and the dark brown interior was soft and comfortable. I figured since I was going to replace my first glove, I was going to buy the best one I could find. The glove was going to be needed to be broken in, so that's exactly what I did.

Baseball is a sport I love, and it truly makes me happy. When I step onto a baseball diamond, nothing and no one can bring me down. Nothing compares to the feeling of when I slip on my glove. I have outgrown my first glove, the thing that made me love the game. But I haven't outgrown the baseball diamond. I'll gladly continue to play ball.


Post Write
I think it's an OK piece of writing. I think it's better than the first draft, and the conclusion is good. I'm not too sure the subject will wow anyone, and I feel one of the body paragraphs is weak. The first two paragraphs I believe are well done. I believe I answered the question well though, and clearly answered the prompt.