Not all Gingers are Feisty

Alejandro Guerrero Guerrero1

Mrs. Meadows

English G/H

4 October 2011

Some people think that gingers have a short temper, and that they have no patience, but I can assure you that its just a stereotype. For you see, my brother Alex was not like this. He was a nice, easygoing type of person. My brother would rarely get mad; he was one of the only people that understood me.

The one thing that I can remember the most about him was his worn down Em-Jay baseball mitt. Ever since the first time I took him to see a Dodgers game, he talked about wanting  to play baseball just like his favorite player on the Dodgers, Pete Reiser. One day after a Dodgers game he asked me if I could buy him a glove so that he could start playing, he begged for it so much that after a while I reluctantly agreed. We went into the store near the stadium. The only thing I hoped for was that there would be a lefty glove for him. As soon as we reached the section where the baseball mitts where sold, he set his eyes on one of the few lefty gloves there where: a rare Em-Jay. He wouldn't take his eyes of of it. I asked how much it was selling for and the guy said  it was a whopping  10 bucks. I knew that once you promised Alex something you had to do it, word where like laws to him. After I bought him the glove I asked him what position he waned to play (I already new the answer), he wanted to play outfielder just like Pete Reiser.

As soon as we got home he rushed to his room and grabbed a green pen and started to  write on his glove. As soon as I found out about this I got mad at him and asked him what the hell he was doing. He told me that he was writing down his favorite poems so that he wouldn’t get bored when he was on the field. I then asked him was why in green ink, he told me it was Pete’s favorite color. Alex, like Pete, an exceptional outfielder.

Some people say that gingers are rude and mean but Alex wasn't like that. All of the teachers would say that he was a very nice kid. My brother was also very smart, he was the perfect child, that my parents would always brag about. The teachers would always say how smart he 

                Guerrero2

was and it wasn’t bull, they actually meant it. I admired him even though he was my little brother.

Even though my brother had all these positive qualities he was very ill . Alex had leukemia; that was the only bad thing. I would always pray for his well- being but one day that wasn't enough and he died. My room was in the garage and on that day I smashed all the windows in the garage, I wanted to smash the windows in the station wagon as well but my hand was already bad enough. My parents wanted to take me to a physcoanalist for smashing all the windows I didn't really give a crap about what they thought I was just plain old mad, because I loved him so much

Even now, I cant fully close my hand and occasionally it hurts, but the pain from his death hurt more than anything. I will always That carefree smile he had on while he was playing baseball and that huge grin he had when I bought him the glove, and the poems he wrote on it. So in conclusion I ended up with a dead brother whom I loved, a baseball glove and a messed up hand.