Wiffle Ball is the coolest game on the planet. I fondly remember all the great home run derby competitions we had in Bruce Smith's backyard when I was a kid. His yard made the best field because of the fence. He would mow the backyard in the shape of a baseball diamond and the fence was the perfect distance to challenge us to hit home runs. The left field fence was a further distance than right field one, so I learned to hammer my homers over the right field fence. When I connected, I knew I had gotten all of that bad boy when the ball not only cleared Bruce's fence, but when it made it over the Davis' swimming pool fence. A hit like that was worth two runs instead of just one.
Six of us went to the Reds game on Sunday, and we made sure to go up early enough to have a big wiffle ball game prior to watching the Reds. We parked on the Kentucky side of the river, cranked up the grill for some smokies and dogs, and broke out the wiffle balls and bat. Barry Warfield and his sons were worthy competition, but Matthew, Josh, and I were the superior team. I believe my power stroke, which I masterfully developed years ago in Bruce Smith's backyard, was clearly the difference in enabling us to bring home the victory.
Closer Matthew's slow curve fooled Denver for strike 3
(Click on photo to enlarge)