All the cards are available for viewing HERE
It is with much regret that I have to announce the closing of the Friendly Confines. After a long and drawn out legal battle with our ruminant co-tenants it has been determined meat production takes precedent over our sacred game.
As retribution, I have decided we will sacrifice one of these lambs to the gods of wiffle during Wifftober Fest.
There will be no home opener, no plastic, no high-life, no glee, the Friendly Confines are no more.
Yours depressed,
Guapo

It was another stunning day on Saturday as the 2008 season commenced at the hallowed grounds of Gap Bridge field. The field was in great shape and a full contingent of Lowballers showed up to do battle in what turned out to be yet another close game. The teams were chosen by secret draft by Lonichiro and the handsome one. It doesn't seem to matter how we choose the teams the games always seem to come down to a run or two in the ninth inning. The away team the Lagers consisted of Hot Rod Beck, Wingman Howell, Trip Atocha, and Lonichiro, playing against the formidable Loggers boasting the line-up of El Guapo in his first game back from the snip, The Surgeon, Trot Thompson, Vlad Oxley,and Bubba Okajima, from southern Japan sporting some snazzy pinstripes.
The game was a real roots outing as it was agreed not to worry about keeping stats and just to play some hard nosed wiffle. But boy, what a game not to have on record. Lots of plastic left the park buoyed by a fickle but forceful breeze that played havoc with the consistency of the pitches. Hot Rod Beck went yard two times including a towering grand slam shot off Trot that put the Lagers way ahead of the lagging loggers. Lonichiro also delivered a switch hit shot to left and both Trip and Wingman were on their games as the Lagers looked to be cruising to an easy win in the late going.
But, this is Lowball, and the tenacious Loggers were not going to just sit down quietly. Behind the ever intimidating Plastic Surgeon, the Loggers staged a comeback which I would say was of epic proportions if it wasn't something that seems to happen nearly every game. Coming back from an eleven to four deficit they chipped away at the lead with long balls by Trot Thompson and a very near home-run by the Vlox that was bobbled and caught just as it was about to leave the park by Lonichiro. All of the Logger players contributed to the comeback with steady hits and good plate discipline, taking walks when they could get them. The Surgeon virtually shut down the opposition until the bottom of the ninth when the home team Loggers came to the plate to face a late arriving Unit. Matt Brown took the mound in the bottom of the ninth with a two run lead, but his day at fire school left him unprepared to stomp out the flames of this surging Logger team. He didn't seem to have enough time to warm up, as he struggled finding the strike zone, blowing the save and loading the bases as a confident Trot Thompson came to the dish. The Unit dealt a hanging breaking ball over the heart of the plate and Trot turned on it sending it over the head of Atocha who was playing in the hot box at short stop. Lonichro circled under it looking to rob Trot of the double and Atocha ran back but the ball bounced in and out of Lonichiro's hands as Trip Atocha dove over to try and catch the bobble, but to no avail. Trot took a trot around the bases with a walk off double to end the game in stunning fashion, garnering a player of the game nod from his compatriots. The pitcher of the game award went to The Surgeon, in the first of what I think will be many such nominations this season. If even half of the games this season come close to this one for excitement and clutch hitting and pitching then this is promising to be one hell of a season.

At first glance, the dimensions appear to favor the long ball. However, the relative low elevation in comparison to Lincoln combines with the tall fence to shutdown most would be pops. In addition, a slight elevation change along the right field fence raises the difficulty and a nasty maple rigorously defends the right field line line.
Straight away center lies 88 feet from the plate and also benefits from a slight rise. As a promotion for this season, any homer to hit the small building behind the fence will be rewarded with a Miller High Life (or purple Gatorade for non consumers). Should this homer actually knock over the building, the offer will not stand.
The left field corner sits 77 ft from the plate where the fence meets the building. There is a loosely defined portion of the building that juts into fair territory. Generally every game the definition of what is actually fair changes. Two small triangles in the left corner and center constitute the only triple zones at HST. Anything that hits the fence is a ground ruled double.
The pitcher sits atop a flat "mound" that benefits from the natural slope and hurls off a piece of native Fair Haven slate. The owner is said to have played high school ball for the "Slaters". HST is required by unwritten law to always have music in the not so dug-out. The present owners have pledged to not sell the naming rights, though offers and especially generous bribes are accepted.

Wiffle ball goes big time—well, not so big
by Lee Green
The Wiffle EffectIf the phrase "organized adult Wiffle ball" has a slightly ludicrous ring to it, that's because we invariably associate the white plastic sphere with childhood, backyard fields, and quirky ground rules. A one-hopper off the tool shed was a double, a shot over the boxwood hedge was a home run, and a foul ball into the fenced province of the neighbors' dog meant the game was over.
That version of the sport still exists, fostering, as one enthusiast's Web site puts it, "the ruining of America's backyards." But in the mid-1990s isolated groups of adult players—usually in their twenties or thirties—discovered on the Internet that plenty of others out there shared their passion. Adult tournaments have been around for years, particularly in the Northeast, where the Wiffle tradition runs long and deep, but competitive adult Wiffle ball has now grown into a thriving subculture of self-described "touring pros," structured competitions, cash prizes, and slick playing fields. Forget the boxwood hedges; these guys swing for low, Fenway-green outfield fences eighty to 110 feet from home plate. And forget those plastic Wiffle bats, too. "That little yellow bat just doesn't cut it today, especially against the pitchers you're facing," says Mike Palinczar, the organizer of two annual tournaments in Trenton, New Jersey, and one of the game's premier pitchers. "If you're up there with a yellow bat, you might as well give up." Today's players wield sturdier plastic or aluminum bats (including one manufactured by Palinczar) with names like Ledge Sledge, King Stick, and Wiffle Pro. A carbon-graphite model, the Moonshot, sells for $120.
The sport reached a milestone in January of 2001, when six players from various parts of the country, frustrated by bitter rivalries and a lack of organization, convened in Baltimore to see if they could invest the game with some semblance of order and uniformity. Two days later they emerged as the United States Perforated Plastic Baseball Association, a governing body that publishes rules, sanctions a series of tournaments on both coasts during baseball season, and conducts post-season playoffs that culminate in a fall national championship. The organization's name may suggest a lack of seriousness, but the players, most of whom played baseball in high school or college, intend nothing of the sort. Billy Owens, of Costa Mesa, California, a thirty-four-year-old electronics distribution manager, is one of the association's founders and the editor of an online Wiffle-ball newsletter called Fast Plastic. Owens bristles at the notion that he is consumed by a child's game. "For ex-baseball players," he told me, "this is the closest thing they can get to playing college-level baseball or even semi-pro."

Last minute change of venue, the hallowed grounds of GapBridge are ready and for historical sakes should host an early season opener. Unless anyone objects this is the deal.
Hot Rod for the Commish
Apologies upfront for the distinct lack of a recap.






Until the next wiffle,
HOT ROD.

Before your pitchers begin their warm-up tosses, have them stretch the forearm muscules in their throwing arms by having them extend their throwing arm and point their fingers skyward (Like a police officer's stop sign). Then with the other hand, gently pull back on the fingers until they feel the lower forearm muscle stretch. Do this for thirty seconds. Relax and repeat four times. Then stretch the upper forearm muscles by extending their throwing arm with fingers dangling downward. Then with the other hand, gently press on the back of the hand until they feel the upper forearm muscle stretch. Again, do this for thirty seconds. Relax and repeat.
Next, bending at the waist, have your pitchers hold their gloves in their pitching hand, and swing their hand in a wide circular motion (Like a lariat) for one minute. This will loosen the shoulder socket.
Next, stretch the tricept muscles and shoulder area by extending the throwing arm straight up and then let the elbow bend and relax. The throwing hand should be near the base of the neck. Then place the other hand at the point of the elbow and gently pull the elbow back over the shoulder until they feel the tricept muscle stretch.
www.infosports.com
Photo tutorial for stretches available here
This may be a repost but it deserves two posts. Get those arms ready lads.

Out of consideration for the masses of children and my wife that needs to work at 4 pm, the start time for opening day has been changed to 10 am. Please pass on to the less computer inclined or don't.