It was the morning of March 4, 2032, in Omaha, Nebraska, and the tanned grass outside had glimmering dew on it. Grayson Allen woke up to the sound of bluebirds chirping and the sun creeping through the shades. Grayson ate, slept, and lived baseball all year round, and today was the first day of spring workouts for his junior year of high school. He was looking forward to this season because they had a shot at winning the state championship and because he has been getting looked at by division one colleges. Since today was the first day of the high school baseball season, his mom, Jackie, made her famous blueberry waffles. Grayson ate slowly as he got up early this morning to make sure he had everything ready for after school. He had also promised his childhood best friend that he would pick him up for school this morning. His best friend Elliot Johnson was also a junior, and an outstanding pitcher. You could even call them brothers because Grayson was a catcher for Elliot. 

Ding, Ding, Ding. The last bell rang in the school day at Omaha High School, and Grayson sprinted to his locker, feeling his luscious brown locks bounce as he ran. He arrived at his locker, swung the door open at an impressive speed, and rushed to the locker room to prepare for workouts. Grayson was the first one at the diamonds stretching and preparing to catch bullpen sessions for all the pitchers, especially Elliot. He tore open the black catcher’s bag labeled Grayson Allen. Upon opening it, he admired his brand new mossy green catcher’s gear that had a subtle glimmer to it in the afternoon sunlight. Grayson carefully put on his catcher’s gear as Coach Aaron approached him and said, “Big year for you this year, Grayson.”

“Yes,” he began, “I suppose it is.” 

Coach Aaron started walking away and shouted back, “Just don’t worry about the outside critics, play your game, and you’ll be fine.”

“Yes coach,” Grayson replied quickly. 

A whistle could be heard as coach signaled everyone over and split them up by position. “Pitchers and catchers in the bullpen, outfielders with me, and infielders with Coach Wilson. Alright, let’s get to it. On the hop!” 

Everyone split up and started to get to work. Grayson was first and his task was catching Elliot’s pitches. Sadly, all the pitchers were only allowed fifty pitches each. Grayson slowly squatted down into a position, and Elliot fired a fastball into the glove. Pop. The sound of the catcher’s glove filled the air making everyone feel at home again. Grayson signaled a curveball by putting two fingers down. Elliot wound up and snapped his wrist to throw a curveball. As the ball got closer, and closer, and closer he realized that the pitch would be low and outside, and because of Grayson’s killer instincts, he slid right and attempted to block the ball. Instead, the ball spiked off his left wrist above the glove, and Grayson fell to the ground whimpering in pain. Five seconds later all was quiet and you could only hear the songbirds nearby. 

On the morning of March 5, 2032, Grayson slowly opened his eyes. He instantly regretted it, the bright lights burned his eyes causing water to pool in them. As he slowly got used to the light he saw his parents standing in the corner, and Dr. Brown standing to the right of the bed. “What’s going on?” Grayson asked, “Why am I here?”

“Son, you’ve been unconscious since four o’clock yesterday. You fractured your wrist and are going to need to recover for two to three weeks,” Dr. Brown stated. Grayson frowned, not meeting his gaze. He didn’t say a word until they arrived home. 

“Well son,” his father started, “This is the point where you need to overcome adversity and block everyone out, especially after you hear the news from your coach.” Buzz. Buzz… Buzz. Buzz. Grayson picked up the phone. 

“H-He-Hey coach, what’s up,” Grayson stuttered. 

Coach Aaron answered, “What’s up Grayson, I just want to let you know that we are going to be moving you to third base. Now don’t worry, you aren’t going to lose your division one scholarships, all the coaches I’ve talked to have agreed, and think that you can make it big at third.” His voice was confident, pride lacing every word.

Grayson responded quietly, “Okay coach I will work my hardest to get back by the start of the season,” and he hung up the phone…

The next three weeks passed slower than a snail trying to cross the road. Grayson was bored out of his mind and couldn’t stand sitting in the dugout and not practicing with his team. He was able to help develop the new starting catcher for his team which occupied him for a short amount of time. Not only did he arrive at baseball practice each day because he was committed to the team, but he also made sure he had time to keep up his 4.0 GPA. Only to mention, physical therapy. As the next week passed, he slowly was getting back to full strength in his wrist and started catching and throwing again. “Goodbye Grayson,” Dr. Smith stated, “We’ll see you tomorrow, and then you should be able to start playing again.”

Grayson mumbled, “Thanks, see you tomorrow.” On his ride home with his Mom, the skies turned gray and it started to rain on their ride home. This made the mood of the car even worse, as Grayson began to wonder if this injury would bother him forever, and he would not be able to return to the star baseball player he was before. He didn’t let anyone tell him this though because he couldn't bear the thought of it being true. He knew that he would return the star fielder even in a new position, and hit just as well as he did before his injury. 

The next day Grayson went through his normal routine. He got up at dawn when the sunshine was once again creeping through the shades. He hopped out of bed, and went into the shower, and felt the cold water pour down on himself. The icy water not only relaxed him, but it also made him realize that he could do it and all of a sudden all of his doubts disappeared like the steam of the shower. 

The eight-hour school day passed, and he was instantly off to therapy. His last one! Grayson was ecstatic because he should be able to return to baseball tomorrow afternoon, and will have only missed three games out of the entire season. When he arrived at the therapy center he automatically went to his daily stretches. Once he completed his stretches, he was allowed to play catch. After twenty-five throws back and forth, Dr. Smith said, “Alright Grayson, you are all good to go. You have made a remarkable recovery. I am excited to say that you can now participate in full-contact sports.”

“Yes!” Grayson exclaimed, “Thank you so much, doctor.” 

Grayson immediately went and got reps at third base and realized that it was much like catcher in a way. He picked it up right away and had more than enough of an arm to get it to first base. As the season went on, Grayson and his high school baseball team had a great season, with none other than Grayson Allen leading them in all offensive categories, as well as only having two errors on the season. 

The date was now May 9, 2032, and they were in the division one Nebraska Baseball State Championship Game. There were easily 10,000 people in the stands, and most of them were there to see the baseball phenomenon, Grayson Allen. The first eight innings passed, with little to no action, other than a home run by Grayson himself, and an RBI single by the opposing team. It was now a tie game, the score one to one in the bottom of the ninth inning. A runner was on second with Grayson up to bat. The first pitch was coming in, the red laces were spinning, and a lightbulb went on in Grayson’s head. Curveball. Whack. Grayson hammered the pitch into left-center field, and his best friend Elliot started cruising home to score the game-winning run. The crowd exploded like a cannon, and everyone was celebrating. 

Then came the trophy ceremony, but this wasn’t even the best part of Grayson’s night.  Five minutes after the trophy presentation, the Stanford baseball coach came up to him and said, “Grayson you are one talented baseball player, and we would love to have you in our program. We will reach out to you for more information, but just letting you know that you have a spot on our team when you graduate in two years.”

“What!” Grayson shouted, “No way, thank you, coach.” Moments later, a soft downpour began to fall. Although it didn’t seem like this rain was depressing, but it brought everyone together and made everyone realize what Grayson Allen did this season. Coming back from an injury, switching positions, and leading his team to a state championship. All while remaining a great friend, son, and student. 

Two years later in the fall, all of the leaves were a dull crimson color, and Grayson Allen was arriving at Stanford University, to try and make his dream of reaching the major leagues come true. He would go on to be the best freshman in the country, and be voted the best third baseman in all of college baseball. After the baseball season, Grayson Allen declared for the draft.

On July 11, 2035, the first three rounds of the MLB draft would occur, and it was Graysons’ big day. Sitting on his little brown coach with no one other than his parents at seven-thirty-seven, Harold Reynolds came to the podium. He said, “ With the sixteenth pick of the 2035 MLB draft, the Atlanta Braves have selected, Grayson Allen, third baseman, Stanford.” 

As soon as that was said the waterworks started not only in the eyes, but also outside. His parents hugged him and congratulated him. Throughout all of the adversity he had throughout his career, and everyone who doubted him, he made it to the big leagues.