I still remember the time my grandfather, Terry, brought me to a red sox game that I will never forget. I was walking up really steep ramps and when I looked down I could see everyone. They all looked like ants, but it wasn’t as cool as you think because I have a fear of heights. The whole time I was just hoping my legs wouldn’t give up on me.

When we got to our seats, I was speechless. Our seats were right above home plate overlooking the whole baseball field.

“If they lose this game, I think I’ll die of anxiety. Not knowing if they are going to the World Series kills me,” I said.

Terry doesn’t really talk that much. Whenever I say something to Terry, it’s usually just quiet.

The game finally started and we were winning. At that time there was no doubt in my mind that they couldn’t beat the Detroit Tigers.

Dustin Pedroia, the second baseman, was up to bat. After a few bad calls and strikes, he hit the ball. As the stadium’s eyes followed the ball, everyone went wild. However, the umpires were trying to decide if it was a foul or a homerun
“That’s going to be a foul, “ Terry said.

“Are you sure?” I asked, hoping the answer would be no.

“Most likely,” as Terry watched the previews, he became more and more certain.

After a while of waiting the umpires called it a foul. And even though everyone was booing, I knew it was the right call. Pedroia’s face was filled with confusion. A little while later the inning was over and a relief pitcher came into the field. As I walked on the mound, I was thinking we might be as good as people said he was.

His name was Frank Morales and he was having a really off day. He walked 3 people and gave up a hit which made them start winning. Thankfully, before anymore damage could be done, they took him out of the game and replaced him with Brandon Workman. Walking out to the mound his chest and shoulders were held up high. That inning I was shaking beneath my skin hoping that he would give up anymore hits.

Close to the end of the game, there was three people on base (bases loaded). As Bob Marley’s “3 Little Birds” came on, everyone was singing along. I knew exactly who it was, Shane Victorino. We were very worried because he was an older guy and was very slow. When the balls, fouls, and strikes kept piling up we were terrified on what’s going to happen. Then the pitcher threw the perfect pitch. Shane Victorino swung the bat and hit a grand slam! The stadium came to an uproar. My heart stopped for a second trying to sink in what just happened. After that hit we were on a roll. One hit after the other.

Our best closer, Koji Uehara, came to the mound and nobody got anymore hits. I started crying as a tsunami of joy rushed through my entire body. As we were walking back to Terry’s car everyone was friendly and high-fiving each other. The energy we all felt. The joy we shared. That made it one of the happiest moments of my life.