When you move from your home country to another, life changes in every aspect. I was almost 8 years old when my parents told me that I would be moving to America. At the time, I didn’t realize how big of a change it would be. I thought that this move would basically be me moving to somewhere else and making more friends. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

After moving to America, my parents thought that I should make some friends and acquaintances before school started. So, they sent me to play recreational baseball and meet new people. In India, I had played cricket and had been one of the best players in my entire town (for my age of course). Yet when I arrived the first day, I noticed how the other kids were all dressed so differently from me: they all had white pants and brown gloves on.

When the coach of the team told me to get ready to practice, I told him that I was already ready to play. He looked at me strangely and asked, “Where is your gear?”

I only looked up curiously and responded, “What gear?” The coach sighed and went to talk to my mother while telling me to talk with the other kids. I was glad to be able to talk to other kids my age, so I walked over and talked with them.

One of the first things I heard in response was, “Hahaha! Why is his voice so weird?!” I blushed, hot with embarrassment, and asked what he meant. The reply I got was, “You don’t talk like any of us. You sound different… it’s weird.” I was so embarrassed by what they were saying, how could they make fun of the way that I talk? It’s not like I was making fun of them for the way that they talked. I got upset and walked away, waiting for my turn to throw the ball. After a few minutes, the coach called my name.

Instead of letting me throw the ball, the coach made me pick out one of the gloves that he had with him. I was supposed to use them while I was playing baseball so that I wouldn’t be hurt while trying to catch a ball. I tried one of the gloves on and tried to get used to it, but I couldn’t. I had never worn anything like the glove before and it felt so weird to me. After all, no one ever needed to use a glove to catch a ball in cricket.

I went up to the pitcher’s mound and the coach told me to throw the ball at home plate. I took my cricket stance and bowled the ball. I expected someone to compliment me on my accurate and relatively fast throwing. Instead, silence could be heard all around. I looked around confused and the kids behind me and those sitting on the bench started laughing and making fun of what I did. “Why did you throw it like that?” the coach asked me.

My response was, “What’s wrong with that? It’s how I bowled in cricket.” The coach chuckled and told me that I wasn’t playing cricket anymore and that I would have to get used to playing baseball now. He walked up and showed me the correct way to throw the ball. I was surprised by the fact that the ball never had to touch the ground in baseball. 

In cricket, the ball had to be thrown so that it bounced once before hitting the wickets. The ball could bounce at any point between the bowler and the batter, and if the ball hit the wickets, the batter was out. Baseball, while kind of similar to cricket in this manner, was still very different.

As opposed to cricket, baseball players could not bounce the ball when throwing a pitch and could let the ball pass by three times before getting out. I had lots of difficulty getting used to this style of throwing so the coach helped me learn. The rest of the day passed in a similar manner, with the coach showing me how to play baseball instead of cricket and correcting me whenever I messed up.

At about 6 pm, my mother came back to pick me up from baseball practice. I had not managed to make any friends today, instead just learning how to play baseball properly and avoiding those who had initially made fun of me. When my mom asked me how my practice had gone, I told her that it was horrible.

I described how everyone talked and acted differently and how they made fun of me. I just wanted to go back to India and meet with my friends. My mom soothed me and told me how everything would be better soon. She told me how I would make friends and that no one would think I was weird when they got to know me.

When I went home, I talked over the phone with my friends from India. I asked how they were and I heard how much they missed me. I talked about how different America was and I told them about how different baseball was from cricket. When I talked with my friends, I truly felt like I was home.

It was at this point that I realized that nothing would ever be the same. I had to adapt to how these people lived and had to give up my old ways if I wanted to be like the people here. Everyone and everything was different here, and I wasn’t in India anymore. My previous thought that life would not be that different here was completely wrong. I had originally hoped that I would be able to meet lots of new people and make a lot of friends here after coming here from India, but I was wrong.

Coming to America had opened my eyes and showed me how different I was. The biggest worry this day had caused me was how I was supposed to treat America like my new home if I already felt like an outsider.