han my 3 kids who are ages 11, 8, and 6, I must bat with only one hand and left-handed. "That's not fair," I tell them. "But that's the rules!" they yell. Oh, well. The teams are, and always are, Derek and Brynn against Tad and me. Tad's the youngest. Tad stands against the trees and tries to catch balls hit against the trees and I pitch. Derek usually pitches for their team and Brynn plays a variety of places and sometimes goes across the monkey bars during the game. Games were usually 3 innings long with the score in the teens or twenties before darkness set in. They wanted me to install lights, but that never happened. But, we have a great time! Someone usually cries and it is usually someone on my team, and it isn't me. As the kids got bigger we did have to cut the trees down and put up a six foot high fence around the yard to keep the ball from going into the alley too many times. At least that is what we told the neighbors. We really didn't like the neighbors so the fence gave us some privacy from them as well as acting as our boundaries for the wiffle ball game. I think back on all the good times we had and how much the kids learned about sportsmanship and being part of a family. Even though someone always ended up crying, we were ready to play the next night. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
The "Who's up for a Game of Wiffle Ball?" Story
It was an ordinary day. We had just finished supper and needed something to do before it was bedtime. "How about a game of wiffle ball?" I yelled. Everyone was in favor of a game so we headed out to the back yard. Our backyard was rather small. No, make that really small. Home plate is on the walk against the house. We only have room for 2 bases, so one base is at the corner of the swing set/monkey bar unit while the other base is at the corner of the wooden railroad ties that line our flower bed. They are real railroad ties that we have in our back yard. I went to the railroad station one day and talked to someone and they said I could have a few if I could get them to my house. Got my neighbor Wayne's truck and loaded them in the back and used them to line the flower bed. Sometimes the tar used to treat them would get on your shoes when you ran to the base. The pitcher stands in a bare spot and pitches overhand to the batter. A hit into the trees is an automatic double, which means they get to go to the railroad tie base, since we only have 2 bases. A shot over the trees into the alley is a homerun. A fair ball was one that fell between the swing set/monkey bars and the side of the garage or anything that landed on the grass. You could field the ball and throw it at them to get them out. It's only a plastic wiffle ball! Not much grass in our yard from all the wiffle ball games, but we just made believe sometimes. Since I am much bigger than my 3 kids who are ages 11, 8, and 6, I must bat with only one hand and left-handed. "That's not fair," I tell them. "But that's the rules!" they yell. Oh, well. The teams are, and always are, Derek and Brynn against Tad and me. Tad's the youngest. Tad stands against the trees and tries to catch balls hit against the trees and I pitch. Derek usually pitches for their team and Brynn plays a variety of places and sometimes goes across the monkey bars during the game. Games were usually 3 innings long with the score in the teens or twenties before darkness set in. They wanted me to install lights, but that never happened. But, we have a great time! Someone usually cries and it is usually someone on my team, and it isn't me. As the kids got bigger we did have to cut the trees down and put up a six foot high fence around the yard to keep the ball from going into the alley too many times. At least that is what we told the neighbors. We really didn't like the neighbors so the fence gave us some privacy from them as well as acting as our boundaries for the wiffle ball game. I think back on all the good times we had and how much the kids learned about sportsmanship and being part of a family. Even though someone always ended up crying, we were ready to play the next night. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
han my 3 kids who are ages 11, 8, and 6, I must bat with only one hand and left-handed. "That's not fair," I tell them. "But that's the rules!" they yell. Oh, well. The teams are, and always are, Derek and Brynn against Tad and me. Tad's the youngest. Tad stands against the trees and tries to catch balls hit against the trees and I pitch. Derek usually pitches for their team and Brynn plays a variety of places and sometimes goes across the monkey bars during the game. Games were usually 3 innings long with the score in the teens or twenties before darkness set in. They wanted me to install lights, but that never happened. But, we have a great time! Someone usually cries and it is usually someone on my team, and it isn't me. As the kids got bigger we did have to cut the trees down and put up a six foot high fence around the yard to keep the ball from going into the alley too many times. At least that is what we told the neighbors. We really didn't like the neighbors so the fence gave us some privacy from them as well as acting as our boundaries for the wiffle ball game. I think back on all the good times we had and how much the kids learned about sportsmanship and being part of a family. Even though someone always ended up crying, we were ready to play the next night. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
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