May 13, 2008
By Emily Piacentini, Rochester, NY

I was absolutely pumped for my softball game. My father and I had just entered the Brighton softball field. This was the varsity field so I felt sort of important. To warm up before the game I tied my cleats on extra tight and went on to the soft clay like dirt. I started pitching and I was on a role. Pitch after pitch I threw strikes. Only a couple more minutes were left before my team mates and the opponents would enter the field. My dad was telling me how I was about to dominate. As we were on an undefeated team I felt ready. For some reason I remember perfectly that we only had played Brighton to a close game every time we faced each other. They had little gray pants and some of them even wore jean skirts for their religion. They had a speedy pitcher and I was excited.
At this point Taylor and her father arrived. Seconds later so did Coach. My dad is very knowledgeable about softball so Mr. Michels was asking my dad questions as we still were pitching together. My dad was a little preoccupied at the moment. I released my pitch and the pitch and it made a nice pop in my father’s catcher’s mitt. Without thinking or looking at me my dad whipped the ball back and I wasn’t exactly paying any attention because he was talking. About two centimeters from my face I could see the stitching vividly. I threw up my glove but it was too late. Every person could hear the crackle in my nose fallowed by an indescribable screech. My eyes were still closed and I could feel the warmth of blood flooding through my nostrils but also on the bridge of my nose. When I opened them I only saw my dad’s hand covering and letting go with a red puddle. We went into the restroom and tried to wash it out. That did nothing! When we came back into the dugout coach put a medium sized zip lock bag under my face and let the blood drip. The highlight was that after getting it checked I was able to donate my blood.
All of a sudden it came to me that I still needed to play the game, I told my dad I was ready to play and he told me “Emily with a lob sided nose you aren’t going to play.” I had a little spaz attack and then I finally realized there was no way I could play with the bullets of sudden pains that would enter my nose. It felt like a sinus infection gone bad. It was stressful and quite annoying. My dad told me we were going home and all of the parents on the way out were asking me if I was okay. I was annoyed and I wasn’t enjoying the unnecessary attention drawn to my nose and I.
My little brother was at a baseball game of his own. With the stress of my dad killing me he was hesitant to say anything to me at the time. To avoid any awkwardness I told my dad hen could go to my brother’s game and switch places with my dad. On the way home my mom called my older brother and told him about my nose. By about nine O’clock at night my swelling had flourished and spread all over my face. You could only see my nostrils. Not any of my noses. The swelling was massive.
By midnight and the doctor had arrived. She had her portable I.V. machine and everything t clean up my nose. Only until this point I could finally see that there was a huge gash in my nose from the seams of the baseball. My mother is really terrible with handling blood so she tried to linger around but it was difficult. Everything enthralled and was about me at the time. I got two stitches and I looked hideous. That’s all I remember for the entire night

Waking up the next morning I knew I had school and I was going to go no matter what because I had to have my perfect attendance as usual. Looking at my face before I left, I decided I COULD NOT go looking like that. I told my mommy to write me a note asking for permission to wear sunglasses all day. Getting to school everyone asked me if I was okay and I said I was fine. I may have looked “alienish” but I did not really care anymore.
If you do something, be cautious no matter what. You never know what lies ahead of you and concentrate only on what you are practicing or studying and so forth.(:

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