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Hand in glove ready to catch a baseball.

My buddy PJ (A ‘lil Hoohaa) is at it again with the blog challenges and this time it’s one entitled Can Of Corn. It’s based on baseball. Yep, I just used that sentence. Well, there’s numerous topics that will be talked about in this one and they’re all related to baseball.

This one started a few months ago, but yeah, I am a little behind so bare with me as I try to catch up. So before I run to home with this one please remember to check out PJ’s blog and the co-host of this challenge Kasey’s blog. And of course enjoy baseball!

The first topic at hand is entitled “best baseball memory” so without further ado let’s take the leap.

My favorite baseball memory is one of the tried and true story of playing “sandlot” baseball. While my story isn’t one of a big dog, a guy growing up to be a major league ballplayer nor someone not knowing who Babe Ruth is. It’s one of playing backyard and well, sometimes front yard baseball.

As a child and still even if my body and we get the right chance to do so, my brother and I love playing wiffle ball. Well, I guess can’t speak for him. But growing up being able to play wiffle ball is one of my favorite baseball memories.

Yes, outside of actually playing organized baseball, watching a game, or even attending one of the many ballparks. There’s nothing more exciting than wiffle ball.

In the house I lived while I was growing up we had a huge front yard and the dimensions fit perfectly for a ball park. So my brother and I along with our father would play a few games. The road was the home run “fence” and it was great fun. Hitting a home run was an amazing feeling.

A feeling that was quite fun at one of our numerous away fields. Most notably our away field was and still to this day our grandparents house. Who in their backyard had a smaller field, but being quite younger was fun. Especially with the home run fence being a row of green shrubs.

It gave you the feel of hitting a home run at Wrigley Field, well, almost. Although looking back I feel sorry for my Grandma who after turning 4 or 5 I could easily take her fastball deep over that fence. Her career ERA was certainly ruined by me growing older.

My uncle however, he rallied behind giving up the deep ball by throwing either inside or some junk ball that made you look like a fool.

Another one of our fields for playing wiffle ball was at my Great Grandmother’s house. Where there was a decent sized field in between her house and the neighbor’s house. Once again the home run field was the road. This was a little more competitive as my cousins would join in. The only downside was the fact that sometimes you’d have to ask the neighbors for the ball back as it’d land on their porch. Or when it’d get stuck in that tree.

So yeah, wiffle ball now that’s a great baseball memory.