It was thesummer before my third grade. Our girls' softball team was facing real pitchers(投球手)1thefirst time. Before that, we could just hit the ball on the tee (球座). When the coach started pitching, hitting became2forme. I missed every single pitch. From the side, I heard my teammate Emilylaughing at3. My face got hot and my throat feltlike it had a softball stuck in. At that moment, I was starting to4playingsoftball.

    The nextafternoon, when Mum said it was time to play the game, I told her I was5.She allowed me to lie down for a while. So I went to my room and6myselfin bed. This was difficult for me because I was fine and just7toavoid softball.

    Soon Mumcame in and said, "Time to go!" She didn't even ask if I felt8.I imagined Emily laughing from the sideline, and9Ireally did feel sick to my stomach. I began crying loudly. Still, Mum pulled myteam T-shirt over my head. She said, "You have to10forthe rest of the season, and only after that we can talk about11you'llcontinue next year." She added that practice was what I needed, not12.She promised to practise with me.

    I got twohits that afternoon, and Emily didn't make a13.Every week after that, I practised at home14I got to be one of thebest hitters on the team.

    That15taughtme that being afraid is part of life, and I can do whatever is expected of meif I keep working and practising.