When I was 12 years old, I was ono a Babe Ruth baseball team called the Reds. We had lost all seven games we had played so far.
After we had lost our eighth game in a row, our coach quit. He gathered us all around after the game and said, "I won't coach a bunch of losers." Every face
on the team fell in shock, including his own son. We watched in silence as he walked off the field, never to be seen again.
Once my dad heard what had happened, he was outraged that someone would do that to a team of 12 year olds. He and my uncle took over coaching the team
for the rest of the season. Even though he worked 10 hour days, he made time to coach my team of "losers".
I don't remember if we ever won a game with them coaching, but I will never forget my dad stepping in and proving once again why he is my hero.
(This short story works, but it's missing a lot of the new writing techniques we've learned in class. Can you identify them? Take a look at the
lead...you will see what's missing.)