I grew up poor-living with my wonderful mother. We had little money, but plenty of love and attention. I was 1 and energetic. I understood that no matter how poor a person was, he could still 2 a dream.
My dream was 3 . By the time I was sixteen, I started playing baseball. I could throw a ninety-mile-per-hour fastball and hit anything that moved on the football field. I was also 4 . My high school coach was John, who not only believed in me, but also taught me how to believe in myself. He 5 me the difference between having a dream and remaining true to that dream. One particular 6 with Coach John changed my life forever.
A friend suggested me for a summer job. This meant a chance for money in my pocket- money for a new bike, new clothes and the 7 of savings for a house for my mother. Then I realized I would have to 8 up summer baseball to handle the work schedule, and that meant I would have to tell John I wouldn't be playing.
When I told John, he was 9 as I expected him to be. "You have your whole life to work, " He said. "Your 10 days are limited. You can't afford to waste them. " I stood before him with my head 11 , trying to think of the 12 that would explain to him why my dream of buying my mom a house and having money in my pocket was worth facing his 13 in me.
"How much will you make at this job, son?" He asked. "3.5 dollars an hour, " I replied. "Well, " he asked, "is $3.5 an hour the price of a dream?"
That simple question made 14 for me the difference between 15 something at once and having a goal. I decided myself to play sports that summer and within the year I was hired by the Pittsburgh Pirates to play baseball, and was offered a $20, 000 contract. In 1999, I bought my mother the house of my dream!
