Wiffleball!

The smell of spring doesn't arrive in North Dakota until May, late May. But when it does arrive it triggers passions that have been dormant. The senses come alive to love ............ golf ......... fishing without ice ........... and wiffleball. I don't want to detail the passions of love or golf or fishing--all are way overanalyzed with negligible results. Wiffleball though, wiffleball is different. Let the details begin. I've checked out the wiffleball sites on the Net, and I'm impressed with most of them. There are leagues and ballparks and aluminum bats to boot, but.......they all play with the ball that is half holey and half solid, my only disappointment. In Dakota we use the ball that has holes throughout, harder to curve and drop and hit for distance. It handles the wind better, too, and that is a must in the countryside where 20 mph is considered a breeze. The bat we use is strictly the banana-colored tube wiffleball is known for. However, we'd try aluminum if someone would send us a sample. The game we play is homerun derby. The ballparks are unique to the owner of the b where the game is set up. The owner determines what constitutes singles, doubles, triples and homers. He sets the spot for the pitchers mound. He establishes the ground rules that favor his strengths. He pays for the broken windows. Some of our constant rules that we're proud of include the following: You must switch hit---left, right, left, right, all the way through the order. 3 ball walk and 2 strike K Use of the automatic ump--a board placed behind the batter. Any pitch that hits the board in the air is a strike. Miss it--a ball. All ground balls must be thrown to the auto ump. Hit it in the air or on one bounce--an out. Miss it--an error. You must pay the neighbor kids a nickel a ball to retrieve fouls up to a $1 limit. The sound of plastic slapping plastic and the thump on the ump brings kids to any backyard. They climb up on the fences and garage roofs to witness intense competition between the 30 and 40 somethings sweating in the ballpark, grunting with every change-up, exulting with every dinger, and running at the mouth with the play by play. These kids can't wait to get beyond shagger age. They can't wait for the gray hairs and love handles. They can't wait to brag without fear of chastisement. They can't wait for the real passion of spring. They can't wait for............. wiffleball.

About the Author:

Steve Graner is a Christian educator and familyman employed by the Minot, ND Public School District. A licensed laypastor, he is passionate about Christian writing and Christian drama. Along with family and friends, Steve has performed numerous self-written dramas and musicals for area church audiences.