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“A Heart Worn on My Hand” Transcript
The blistering sun beats on my forehead. I grip my fingers along the red stitching of the leather softball
nestled in my hand. The batter steps up to the plate and I dig the toe of my cleats further into the
pitching mound. As I prepare to pitch, my focus lies on nothing but the catcher’s glove. I know my next
pitch will be a strike. As I throw the ball with all my strength, the batter unleashes a hard line drive right
back at me. But it’s all right because I catch the ball in my glove and the batter is out.
Not only has my softball glove saved me from physical harm, but it contains hidden clues to my
personality, my background, and the experiences that have helped shape who I am today.
On the outside of my glove, you notice my name scribbled in black permanent marker. My name is
unique and I feel this has given me the courage to be different and stand out from my peers throughout
my life. Surrounding my name you notice water stains on the leather of my glove. These stains come
from practicing in the rainy spring weather in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where I attended high school.
