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  • Writer's pictureNemi

Last Pitch

There was a point in my life, when I knew far too many names and positions of athletes in baseball. I was consumed with numbers, the analytics before they were truly the measuring stick by which the sporting world thrives on today. It's wild to think about all the things that I would think about during my younger days, things which people are getting paid for heavily, today.

I was a poor, immigrant kid, who attended a school that was so overly conservative and backwards, that I almost failed to unwrap what was so tightly wound around my being, planted into my core. The idea of progress wasn't taught because there wasn't anyone who progressed. Well, there were those who progressed by finding their way out of the ideology being presented. IF memory serves me correctly, there are a few success stories sprinkled here and there; some reside in Asia and a few have found their feet throughout the USA.

The irony out of all of this is I'm still a fan of the game, however, the game is now called Life. In a time where people are lost within the masses and movements of thought, I'm focused on the finer aspects of life, of the game.

For far too long, I've observed the little things which others miss. There's always a last pitch in baseball and it's one of the few sports which ends this way, by a last play. Well to be fair, a football game end by the kneeling of the ball, a hockey game can end by the icing of a puck, a basketball game can end by dribbling out the clock, BUT a baseball game...

During my younger years, I never had the opportunity to venture to a MLB stadium to see my favorite team play. My parents didn't have the money or insight to do anything of the sort because they were attempting to keep us afloat. It's only recently, I've found myself understanding the sacrifices which parents make when it comes to the advancement of their families. Please don't get me wrong, I knew there were sacrifices being made but to understand the level of said sacrifices has moved me to thank my parents for their love and tutelage.

Recently, I had a major interview and I found myself harkening back to the advice my father has provided to me along the way. The interviewers heard my story and they mentioned my father's stamp in my life, which prompted me to remember the giant of a man who instilled so much wisdom into this game I've learned to play, this game called Life.

I've committed errors, I've reached base, I've popped up, grounded out, hit into double plays, singled, doubled, tripled, and homered a few times during my life. This game has been amazing!

As we all sit and stare at this picture below, where are your eyes drawn to; is it the view of the Bay, the signage in centerfield, the stands, or... the LAST PITCH?

My eyes have been allowed to capture so much beauty, my camera has been allowed to slow down time, in order to savor so many memorable moments. Who would've thought, that an immigrant kid like me would turn out to be such a dreamer and doer as well.

The game ended on a last pitch, eventually all of our lives will do the same; don't go out trying to bunt (rolls eyes).

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