In lieu of an improv rehearsal today with Will, we finally held the first ever (in the personal history of those involved) Wiffle Ball Day day. That's 2 days in 1! We made the plan around 10:30am. I struck out in my drugstore search for the official ball and bat. Oh they had the cheap knock-offs, and I'll buy some generic stuff on occasion. However, allow me to save you heartache and disappointment. Remember this - there is NO substitute for the Official Wiffle. For those of you not in the know, the "Official Wiffle" bat is a yellow, skinny plastic tube, and the ball is ... this one:
After my family moved to Atlanta from Dyersburg, TN, I spent several summers back in TN with my grandparents. Virtually every day, my neighborhood friends and I would play Wiffle Ball for hours and hours. We wore out the grass in my buddy's front and back yard until his dad would force us to move our stadium down the street to the church yard. I wrecked my bike and broke my wrist on the way to one such meeting. We kept stats, mainly home runs, through the "season" that consisted of regular 1-on-1 or all-time pitcher games with ghost runners and the classic home run derby.
And so, armed with fond memories, I picked Will up and we headed to the nearest Toys 'R Us. After some searching, we found the required tools. From there, we drove around the corner to Griffith Park, where we settled on a large, flat, grassy area. The field was perfect. There were ideally placed trees to serve as both foul lines and the home run distance. We centered home plate just in front of a 50 gallon drum. We reassigned it from trash duty to umpire. Hit the drum, it's a strike. We collaborated on the rules and spent the next two hours chasing Wiffle balls and swinging the ol' bat. Final score: Chris - 29, Will-28 in a barn burner. My closer pitched a shutout inning to seal the victory. This has tradition written all over it.
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