Hello Major League Baseball! My name is Keely Flanagan, I’m a 20-year old college student. I’m originally a Bay Area, California resident who currently attends USC in Los Angeles. And no, this has NOT caused me to become a Dodger’s fan. I bleed orange and black.
I remember vividly my first experience at a major league baseball game. I’m sure every essay you’ve read probably starts with this exact anecdote, but that’s because the first time is so meaningful to so many people. It’s a memory that people across the country cherish and share with family and friends. My first game was the Oakland Coliseum when I was about 3 years old. I don’t remember the game at all; in fact, I actually spent the entire time with my mom looking for a playground in the ballpark. I guess my love for the game would have to wait a few years.
This very moment occurred at my first ever play-off game. It was Game 2 of the 2000 NL divisional series between my SF Giants and the NY Mets. JT Snow, my all-time favorite player (originally because 7-year old me thought the name sounded cool), was up to bat in the bottom of the ninth. We were trailing 4-1. I remember clearly his one epic swing of the bat: a 3-run home run that cleared the seats on the right field side. As I watched the ball go yard, the thought that it was, in fact, a home run never crossed my mind. I thought for certain it was a foul ball – until my Dad lifted me up onto his shoulders, screaming and crying like a little boy. That was also the first moment I had ever seen my Dad cry.
Baseball has empowered me in more ways than 500 words can express. I have such a deep love and appreciation for the game and what it has done for me personally, this job would be a small token in which I can give back to the thing that has given me so much. Baseball got me through some of the toughest challenges in my life. Whenever I have felt down and out, baseball has always been there to inspire and pick up the pieces.
But baseball has provided more than merely helping me to work through adversity: it has strengthened the bond I share with my dad, and it’s helped my love life as tremendously. In all honesty, what guy doesn’t drool over a chick who can recite batting averages by heart, and can tell the difference between a change-up and fastball just watching from the third base side at AT&T Park? Let’s just say I do very well.
Let me end with this: I love baseball. Pure and simple. Every aspect of the game is perfect. The subtle difference between a slider and curveball is poetry, how one millisecond determines whether a ball goes yard or foul, and the various curses and superstitions that have become paramount in American culture: all perfect aspects of the game I love. This is an opportunity that I cannot pass up: I am willing to leave school and take a semester off, and I would do so a heartbeat if offered this dream job. I am willing to give everything I have, body, mind, and spirit, to baseball. It’s the least I can sacrifice for the one thing in life I am completely and utterly passionate about. Baseball is my life.
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