Rule of thumb: If you are sitting in a place where ball is being played — any sort of ball — keep your eye on the field. This was a good policy on Memorial Day as Wiffle balls rained from the sky, bounced off plates of picnic fare, knocked over drinks, and pelted party-goers.
We were up on the deck, which was home run territory under the impromptu ground rules. If the ball bounced off the railing it was a triple. I managed to catch several homers, which was thrilling. I always brought my glove to games at Shea Stadium as a kid, but was never rewarded with a foul ball.
The Wifflers continued, and indeed, it was a slugfest. One epic blast actually sailed through the open screen door and landed in the house somewhere — which is like hitting one right out of the ballpark.
We are always reminded on Memorial Day to consider the holiday’s true meaning. I think I found some of that watching the young men pound the Wiffle ball. How many kids who never came home played this game in backyards just like this? I think many of them would rather be remembered not with sadness and flowers, but hot dogs and Wiffle ball.
every now and then you get things pretty close to right.
this is one.
thanks
Skip
Well, you know the old saying, Skip: Even a broken clock…