The surrounding sounds are ones of which I could always hear. The smack of the ball crisply being thrown into a worn down, leather glove, or the ding of the yellow love of my life hitting right on the sweet spot of the lucky bat. There is always a faint mix of dirt and sweat resting in my mouth and all over my body. Always focused, my eyes are like lasers on the ball, and or the glove in all situations. Over and over the ball rolls over the dirt, then grass, and then dirt again until swiftly scooped up and the play is executed. This repetitiveness eases my mind. The repetition of the same movements makes my body calm and in complete control. After a while, my body knows no different, and softball has become second nature to my everyday life. As frustrating as a practice may be at times it is preparation for the real test of the game, game