"They're going down!" Autumn shouts as we dash up the fleet of stairs to the stadium.
"We're gonna destroy them," I yelled back.

We are not ruthless witches; we are merely expressing our desires for today's baseball game. Our favorite team, the Cleveland Indians, is facing the Boston Red Sox, one of our most challenging rivals. We've had this day marked on the calendar in bold red letters, GAME DAY.

"Who do you think will be the first to hit a home run?" I ask as we find our seats.
"Sizemore, of course!" Autumn exclaims, just as the players burst through the Indians Flag and run onto the field. Everyone stands up as we sing the national anthem. Afterwards, the Red Sox move to the outfield while the Indians bat. "Come on, Indians! Let's do this!" we cheer.

I met Autumn just early this year, and at the time, I thought she was just another one of those sports fanatics. Since we shared almost all the same classes, we were usually bound together as partners. Despite being forced together by teachers, we were always comfortable around each other. However, we did not share as tight a bond as I did with some of my best friends whom many would consider “nerds”. Baseball had sparked our friendship to life.

I've always thought of baseball as just an aimless sport in which people whacked a ball and ran around in circles all day. Whenever Autumn spoke about football, I would roll my eyes and try to change the subject.

One day, I was sick, and Autumn came over to see me. She sat by my bed, chatting about school and music and our friends. Then our conversation drifted to baseball. I listened as she talked about her favorite teams. She even went on Youtube to show me when players had hit home runs and taught me about the different types of throws pitchers used. Since this day, I’ve learned to call fouls and penalties before anyone else does. We gossip about our favorite baseball players for hours on end.

"Homerun, for your Cleveland Indians!" the announcer exclaims. Thousands of fans around us hollered and cheered; a few hundred grumpy Red Sox fans slump over in their seats, sulking. Autumn and I shriek as loud as we can as we fling our peanuts into the darkness. The Cleveland Indian's fight song echoes throughout the stadium.

At the end of the game, the Indians crush the Red Sox at 17-10. The victory song blasts as the fans stream out of the stadium, their screams of triumph ripping through the night. Autumn and I high-five each other and giggle as we twirl onto the parking lot. "That was an awesome game!" I shouted. "Definitely. We should do this again sometime!" Autumn replies.

Through our shared love of baseball, I have made a new friend who I had once thought was nothing like me. She is now one of my best friends, and through her, I got to know many other friends; together, we were able to build a school club that would help our community while sharing our love for music and sports. Amazingly though, it all started with a white leather ball.