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The last two weeks in Wiffleville have been really quite exceptional in many ways. We had the first truly co-ed game on a very wet Sunday two weeks ago, and then last Sunday was our first foray into international territory with the Wiffle debut of the Damager from Dusseldorf. Jan "Lights out" Santana. A write up of both events is certainly in order, but the real question that everyone has been asking is: "Where is the Guap?" There have been rumors that he is taking a brief sabbatical after his little tantrum at Gap Bridge. Some said he was out of town on vacation, but I have heard from sources close to the troubled slugger that he has been doing a stint in the Wifflearium, the home for troubled Wifflers in Scarsdale, NY. His agent was offering no comments on the missing star's status but he did say, "Mike is in a happy place." When pressed by the commissioner to reveal whether or not Guap will be ready to host at the Friendly Confines this weekend, he did reveal that Guap's Greyhound pulls into Lincoln station at nine AM on saturday, and that the Friendly Confines will be ready to roll. He did pause to add that the tenants have pretty much trashed the place in the mighty slugger's absence but what's a little sheep poo among friends.
Start time on Saturday, 10:00 AM. Friendly Confines.
Stay tuned....

Wiffle ball goes big time—well, not so big

by Lee Green
The Wiffle Effect

If 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."

www.theatlantic.com

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

About once a year I get the inkling to spend a couple all nighters rebuilding web sites. A month ago I promised to put forth the same effort on the LowBall site. Little progress was made in March, and then the snow melted. Suddenly HST became visible and the memories flooded back. I went to work. After around 48 hours of near continuous work and a few cans of the old good life, the site is live and revived. I hope it gets you as excited as I am for the season.

A brief background, the header/background design was developed out of these source images. When I started working on the site, I really wanted to get the feeling of old time baseball across. To me, that is LowBall, the pure spirit of baseball without all the pretense; just friends and competition. These two images caught my eye and I really worked to make them a part of the theme.

I went through a lot of iterations to reach the end product. Since in my mind, I feel that Lonny was the LowBaller of the Year, I worked him in place of Hank Greenberg. I figure getting the header image for a year is a decent reward for 142 at bats. I like the merging of a modern wiffle photo with an old time baseball photo. That really is the thing, every time you take the mound or step into the batter's box, you step into something bigger and for a brief moment you are part of the big show. If that made no sense to you, you should stop reading and start playing in your company's slow pitch softball league.
I also quietly revised the LowBall Coat of Arms. This ended up being a real chore. I really did not want to use a photo of myself in any of this. However after spending hours cutting and pasting different LowBallers into the crest, it became apparent that this photo worked best. Having built the site and built a lot of baseball cards, I now know what photos I need and what angles work best. Next year should go smoother. I would like to have the LowBaller of the Year (voted by committee) emblazoned on the crest for their reign as LOTY. That's a long ways off.

As a note, I put up some base posts for the individual fields. These should be expanded upon by the appropriate owners.

For now, all this staring at wiffle photos has got me amped up for some wiffle. Now let's wiffle you hosers.

HOT ROD.

High Resolution cards are available upon request

David Eisenhower (at bat) "wiffles" on the White House lawn.

From Popular Mechanics
Of all the milestones being marked in the new millennium, here's one that probably got by you. The Wiffle ball is 50 years old. And, like many notable achievements of this modern age, this ubiquitous plastic ball with holes on one side was created more or less by accident.

According to David A. Mullany, President of The Wiffle Ball Inc., it all started in the early 1950s, in Fairfield, Conn., when Mullany and a few of his school chums got into hot water playing baseball in the local schoolyard. The yard was so small, they often broke the school windows, which, in turn, drew the attention of the police.

Moving the game to his parents' backyard, Mullany substituted a tennis ball for the baseball and a sawed-off broom handle for the bat. But this, too, caused property damage, as the ball knocked shingles off the Mullany home, which was used as a backstop.

http://www.boston.com/sports/baseball/redsox/articles/2007/08/03/handsom...

Handsome return
Ex-Sox reliever Garces is the pride of Nashua -- and hopes to get back to the majors

By Stan Grossfeld, Globe Staff | August 3, 2007

NASHUA, N.H. -- It's four hours before game time and Holman Stadium is nearly deserted. In the parking lot, the young Nashua Pride players -- born in the 1980s -- arrive in carpool style, chatting about their girlfriends, cheap restaurants, and the lack of 34-inch bats in stock.

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