December 13, 2025 - Game Recap

Des & C-Jones & Pace vs. Paul & Verlan & Todd
Score: 17-4
Location: Mathewson Park (Coronado, CA)

The time had come for another boys trip--this time to Coronado (San Diego) where the wiffle donor community has planted a flag in recent years.  

After a couple days of burritos, surfing, getting stung by a stingray (Paul), guzzling liters of diet Pepsi (Todd), and late-night YouTube clips marathons, we sobered up for a Saturday morning (12:30) game of wiffs.  

We cobbled together a very workable field at Mathewson Park, away from the sea breeze.  This is the 2nd time this field has been used--the first time being a non-sanctioned friendly game with the youngsters.  [My most vivid recollection from that game was that Crato was in his high school track-coach phase (think athletic sunglasses, a track suit, a mustache, a lanyard), and, embracing his role, he called the young kids into a huddle mid-game and told them not to trust everything they hear in the crooked media, and to look to Truth Social as their trusted news source, and then proceeded to lead them in a rousing cheer of "'Stop the steal' on 3!".]  The field was actually a good one.  Plenty of space.  Appropriate blend of offense / defense.  And some fun quirks, like 2 metal poles in centerfield that served as double-homer targets as well as triples if hit on the roll.  

We hit for teams, and, for the 3rd time in a row, Paul, Verlan, and Todd ended up on the shorter-hitting team.  Perhaps the most formidable opponent of the day was the old-guy injuries many of us were dealing with.  Paul and Verlan were suffering from some sort of tennis elbow thing, and Des was hobbling around in a brace/crutch from a recent hole-in-kneecap operation.  And with Todd being a "never-pitcher", their team would have to figure out who could take the mound.  Paul took one for the team and took his rightful place on the bump.   

We were using a contraband bat from the local Big 5.  My regulation bat that I had tried to bring on the plane had been seized at security for having the appearance of a weapon.  The blue bat's shortness and softer plastic caused the ball to die in the outfield.  

Weak bat notwithstanding, Chris managed to crank a homer and a double in the top half of the first inning.  With Des's and my help with some David Eckstein singles and some walks we managed to end the inning with a pair of runs, but left the bases loaded.  

When it was my turn to pitch, I was excited to debut some new pitching grips/actions I had been working on with my baseball-minded son.  Paul was to be my first victim.  Alas, on the first pitch he saw in the zone he cranked it out for a leadoff homer.  I worked my way through the rest of the inning getting a strikeout or two, and ending the inning with a 2-2 tie.  

On offense, we had a similar top half of the 2nd inning, driving in 2 more runs but leaving 3 ghost runners stranded.  

When it was their team's turn to bat, they put some runners on and Verlan drove in a run.  He was an immensely frustrating out, spoiling my 12-6 overhand curves and my 4-seamers, often earning either a walk or a single past my immobile shortstop.  Des did help me out in the 2nd and the 4th, though, getting some clutch fielding outs when some slow rollers made their way exactly to him, and he managed to bend down without taking a step and casually field the grounders for outs.  

We took our tight 1-run lead into the 3rd inning.  Paul's pitching was getting progressively more erratic.  He tried yelling at the ball for going one way on one pitch, and another way on the next pitch, but I don't think it helped.  The tricky thing about it though, was that we batters were struggling because of his erratic pitching, never managing to find a rhythm or get our balance.  In one instance, Des had a full count and Paul pitched one that was inside but tantalizingly close to the plate.  Des watched it for a while and made a feeble handcuffed swing at it after it was already crossing the plate.  He may as well have swung at it with a chopstick.  At some point in this inning Chris hit a liner to left field that kept casually rolling its way right into one of the metal poles--a triple!  We put up a couple runs, but we by no means felt like we had put the game out of reach.  (Especially with my PTSD from the 2022 and 2018 matchups.)

Stylish wiffler

We held them scoreless in the 3rd.  We put up another 2 runs in the 4th and they tacked 1 on, bringing the score to 8-4 heading into the 5th and final inning.  

Paul came in to nobly finish what he'd started.  But either his elbow was getting too weak or his control was too off, and the wheels started to come off.  Some of you pitchers will know the feeling of despair when you just can't get an out.  Paul was going through that.  But he refused any help, including from our team, and he gutted it out.  Unfortunately, for him, it took him giving up 9 runs before he could stop the bleeding.  

When it was their turn to mount a comeback, I don't think they believed in themselves.  I was getting more confident with my pitching, mixing in all sorts of off-speed stuff that was dropping in for strikes.  It was a tidy inning, and we secured the victory.  

I was very happy for several hours... until Verlan (with Todd's help) smoked us all in pickleball. 

Game Highlights

• A couple watched the entire game from a park bench, a record.
• We all ducked for cover when Paul ended the game on a strikeout, but he said his sore elbow prevented him from doing one of his signature bat tosses.  
• After Chris's triple, he was proud of himself for hitting for the cycle, but Des interjected that he hadn't yet hit a double-homer.  

Game report by Pace Barker

October 20, 2022 - Game Recap

Pace & C-Jones vs. Paul & Verlan & Todd

Score: 18-19

Location: Lambert Memorial Field (Provo, UT)

MVP: Todd

When a man gets into his older years he develops a sort of misty-eyed tenderness that manifests itself in the form of things like openly sharing expressions of love, tearing up when watching shows, or attaching deep meaning to physical places he deems sacred.  

Two of those three things happened this past weekend as we five tetragenarians(?) met up from around the country for a boys trip in St. George by way of SLC and Provo.  Our first destination for the weekend revelry was the hallowed grounds of Lambert Memorial Field for a late-afternoon wiffle game.  As we parked near the tennis courts and walked around the corner my excited anticipation was fulfilled upon seeing the field in beautiful, well-manicured condition, ready for action.  Given how so many things in life tend towards decay or loss or having trailers plopped down on top of them (see: Founding Fathers Field), it felt like we had managed to somehow hack the system to have this treasure of an asset just sitting there in near-pristine condition, like it had been waiting for us to show up.  All the old-man impulses of wanting to wrap my arm around another man’s shoulders and wax nostalgic about all the special memories and meaning of this sacred place started to well up inside me but I was able to hold that awkward urge in abeyance and instead just enjoy the moment.  

Since we were in no particular rush, we were able to leisurely take in the environment with some soft-toss, some ball-scuffing, clearing the field of dog pooh (another old-man activity), and even, a new record: pull-ups!  I don't think anyone in the Gil Tyree community had the installation of pullup bars in left field on their wiffleball bingo card, but there they are.  Fortunately, I think they actually make a nice addition to the field – one more whimsical element to make the field even more perfect than it already was.  

We then hit for teams and started the game (with the longer hitters batting first).  Paul decided to pitch for the fielding team.  He was able to locate the pitcher’s mound by spotting a faint bald spot of grass next to the sprinkler head—a scar that has been cut into the grass by more than a decade’s worth of Cougars’ shoes eagerly pushing off the rubber as they rare back to summon the best of their strength and deception and deliver the ball into the great drama of pitcher vs. batter.  On this particular day—and indeed, this seems to be the new norm in the live-ball era—batter beat pitcher most of the time.  

By my estimation this is the first game to be played on Lambert Memorial in more than 12 years.  So, when that opening pitch came in it was no surprise that there was a sort-of sudden cosmic excitement in the air—as if the wiffle gods’ cameras were all flashing in unison.  The moment was given a touch of the comical when, simultaneous with the pitch, a BYU passerby suddenly appeared from behind the Smith Fieldhouse and zoomed through the outfield sidewalk path on some sort of futuristic one-wheeled electric scooter thing—a record.  We all partially keeled over with chuckles and then resumed the action.  Chris led off with a walk and then I belted a double to left field, narrowly missing the new pull-up bars.  We paused play to discuss what the rules are around the pull-up bars.  Paul proposed that the horizontal bars should be a homerun but the supporting vertical structure would just be a double.  Chris seconded the motion which was then ratified with a 4-1 vote (Todd being the dissenter).  On my very next at-bat I blasted a ball that made its way straight to those horizontal pull-up bars, which I am now going to name “The Camacho Bars,” in honor of the great, former Phoenix news anchor for Channel 3.  Chris and I then pelted a couple more hits and put up another run before ending our top-half tally at 4.  

Chris declined to pitch for our side so I gladly took the ball for our defensive effort.  My command and velocity felt good but I couldn’t seem to get that strike-out pitch past the batters, and the balls they hit were all coming in too hot to be able to make plays on them.  They notched up the score at 4 apiece.  

In the top half of the 2nd inning Paul was struggling with his control, and I was seeing the ball well, and, collectively, Chris and I put up 5 more runs.  Then in the bottom half of the inning they were stringing together some hits and mounting a tit-for-tat campaign. I realized I was never succeeding in getting Paul out.  I got one weak 1st-base-side grounder out of him but it was just beyond my reach, and then I got him to pop a foul ball over the high tennis fence, which is a conditional out depending on if the tennis gates are locked or not.  Paul jogged around the corner and discovered that the courts were unlocked, meaning the at-bat would continue.  He ended up getting another hit off me.  [Sigh.]  I think we’ve faced off against each other so many hundreds of times at this point that it’s very difficult for either of us to get the other one out.  The inning continued with their team amassing 3 runs before I faced Paul again with 2 outs and runners on.  I got him in the hole down 0-2 and then fired a full-strength fastball that he watched go right down the heart of the plate for a called strike.  Paul then broke out into one of his characteristic fits of wiffle rage and tossed the bat all the way to centerfield homerun territory.  

In the top half of the 3rd we ran the score up to 14-7.  They countered with 4 runs of their own to bring the score to 14-11.  The damage could have been worse but I was helped by an over-the-shoulder left-handed outfield catch by Chris that robbed them of a double.  Then again, I also had the misfortune of a grounder going to Verlan at (substitute) shortstop where he fielded it like a statue as it whizzed by him; but in his defense this was only because the late-afternoon sun was at its opposite-of-optimal position, causing the little white ball to be nearly invisible against the backdrop of the incredibly big and blinding white ball known as the sun.  It was also during this inning that we took a vote to determine if we should end the game after 4 innings instead of the customary 5.  I’m not proud of the decision that we collectively made.  

Difficult visibility conditions from the SS position

So, onto the 4th and final inning where we managed to tack on 4 insurance runs despite Paul getting stronger and stronger from the mound as the game wore on.  Their team sounded a little despondent heading into their final chance to catch up but Chris reminded them that 7 runs is like a free throw in basketball.  I started off the inning getting Todd to strike out.  [Feeling good.]  Then I gave up a hit to Verlan and another hit to Todd.  [Grr.]  Then I had Todd down 0-2 and I felt like a strike out was inevitable.  I went with my trusty curve ball, which, at this point, I’m beginning to think is really just like the perfect home-run derby ball.  He gave it a ride to left field (the only direction Todd ever goes), but this one was never going to be caught.  It sailed past the overgrown shrubs, over the brick section of the fieldhouse building, and off the tin portion of the Bluth Monster—good for a 2x homer (6 runs); the only 2x homerun territory in the whole field.  I don’t know where this hit came from, and why the wiffle gods conspired against me.  I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised given how massive Todd’s arms are.  I know the power is there.  But I felt like I was dealing.  And even Todd said he was just trying to not strike out.  Now I was clinging to a 1-run lead with 2 outs to go.  I gave up a single, then a double.  Then I had my substitute shortstop play in to prevent the runner from advancing but it didn’t matter.  Todd clocked a 2-run double off me for the walk-off win.  This somehow felt worse than the proverbial “agony of defeat.”  It’s like agony with a side of impotence.  

With the game over we all came in for handshakes, and then I suggested we all just soak in our time there and sit down on the infield grass and chat, which we did, until Verlan got really hungry, and we made our way over to J. Dawgs.

Huddling near Great Grate for a post-game photo op  

Game Highlights / Other

• In the 3rd inning Todd made a heads-up defensive play when he caught a deep fly in centerfield and alertly threw it towards home to keep the runner at 3rd base.  The throw weakly came in and hit the grass a couple times before reaching the concrete and then slowly rolling at the speed of a turd on its way to successfully hitting the chain-linked backstop fence. 
• I just realized that our only other boys-trip game (in 2018) also ended with me (pitcher) and Chris losing on a walk-off hit by a score of 18-19.  
• As part of our post-game chat we wondered how the 2022 versions of ourselves would fare against the circa 2004 “prime” versions of ourselves.  I personally feel like none of us have really lost a step out there, but I’m probably blinded by my own ego.  Though, I will say, we all looked a bit more awkward than we used to when climbing the soccer fence to retrieve foul balls.  (Who knows if we could even manage to climb the tall tennis fence if it came to that.)
• The big question on my mind: @Mark – Will Land (freshman) fulfill his destiny and wield the bat as the rightful commissioner-heir?

Game report by Pace Barker

July 17, 2021 - Game Recap

Pace vs. Paul vs. Des
Score: 29-23-15
Location: Lambert Original (Paradise Valley, AZ)

In support of our Phoenix Suns, Des and I flew into Phoenix to catch game 5 of the NBA Finals (😢).  And in support of his mother, Paul drove into Phoenix; coming with his family by way of an unofficial, partial Lambert reunion in Denver.  (Let it be remembered that Paul was the 2004 recipient of the Purple Heart Award for his dedication to his aging family members.)

By some tremendous stroke of luck, our timing all synced up such that Paul unexpectedly called me on Saturday morning, and before you could say "R.C. Willey" a wiffle game was underway.  (Crato wanted to make it known that he was eligible for the game (i.e., off the DL from his foot injury), but he had a pre-arranged boating trip.)

The weather was a very manageable, if a bit balmy, high 80's / low 90's.  The summer cicadas hummed a steady droning buzz as a background track to the day's proceedings.  

The format would be 1 on 1 on 1 with each batter facing both opposing pitchers twice for a total of 4 innings.  I started off batting against Paul with Des in the field.  

Des throwing strikes in warm-ups

I hit a first-pitch homer over the left-field wall, then got a lot of ducks on the pond but had some weak pop-ups to end the inning with only 1 run.  Paul then faced Des.  I let a few get by me in the field, and Paul ended up with 2.  Des then came out swinging hard against my pitching, and ended up with 3 runs.  (When subsequently asked about how the game went, Des was very eager to emphasize that he won the 1st inning.)

In the 2nd inning the bats started to heat up.  I added 10 or so to my score, and Paul knocked in several as well.  For Des's turn at the plate he had a couple quick strikeouts by Paul, but then recovered and rallied for 5 or 6 runs.  

It was at this point that we took an unprecedented mid-game break for some of Jane's waffles.  The meal was scrumptious; adorned with fresh berries, topped with cream and jams and syrup, and chased with a backyard concoction of tangelos and blood oranges.  We all partook heartily, including Joelle, who was there as an emissary of the WWC (Wiffle Wives Club).  

This mid-game brunch turned out to have more of an effect than anticipated.  When we resumed play, and as the cloud cover started to give way to the hot sun, Paul started sweating syrup, and Des, overcome with the heat and discomfort, violently shed his shirt and tossed it aside on the exposed concrete.  

I once again mustered only a few runs off of Paul, who followed with 5 or 6 of his own off of Des to bring his tally within 1 run of mine.  

When Des was in the outfield, whenever one of the balls would get stuck in the oleander bushes (which is quite common), he would sort of make a few glances at the ball and pretend to make an attempt at retrieving it.  I figured that in his now-topless form he was worried about the chafe he would get from crawling around in there.  

Digging out a ball from the oleander

In the final inning, Des, hatless and without glasses, was too worn down to consistently attack the strike zone as a pitcher, thus surrendering a bevy of homeruns to me.  I brought my total score to 29.  

In Paul's middle part of the frame, he put up a good effort and looked like he might go on a surge.  But then I got him to hit a pop-up and a ground-out to secure my lead over him.

Des gave it a good effort in his bottom of the frame, but the gap was too wide, and he ended with 15.    

Game Highlights

• Instead of hitting for teams, we shot hoops for the honor to bat first.  
• Des's fitness tracker indicated that he had doubled his daily calorie-burn goal through the course of play, thus disproving the slanderous myth that wiffle is for lazy people.  
• When we were changing into our swimsuits after the game, I took the opportunity to pelt Des with a wiffleball in the right butt cheek.    

Wally in training.  Roping one to deep right and making it look easy.

January 1, 2020 - Game Recap

Pops & Pace vs. Des & Mark
Score: 5-0
Location: Hillside Middle School (Salt Lake, UT)

Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?  An emphatic "no" on this auspicious new-years morn which greeted us briskly with a fresh blanket of snow to help usher in both the new decade as well as a feeling of renewal and invigoration.

Despite the mounting snowfall and its attendant logistical complications, we plowed forth and stuck to our plan to conjoin at the agreed-upon spot for an 8:15 game time.

Seeing Pops roll up it was apparent as he strode towards us in his chic black spandex pants that he has not simply been sitting on his wiffle haunches all these years.  His combination of strength and spryness would be enough to intimidate any pitcher, as would later be borne out. 

After we had all exchanged initial pleasantries, we strolled the grounds to stake out our new field.  We were naturally drawn to the metal backstop some distance away, and settled on using its convex side and orienting our field of play towards a fire hydrant (a triple) and a basketball court, using a concrete wall as the right field foul line and a rock quarry as the left field foul line.  This field had no homerun territory except for two basketball hoops a fair distance away which we said would be good for a 6x homer if the ball went through one of the hoops.

We went through the ritualistic self-toss hitting for teams which started with some self-strikes and some very meekly hit balls by me, Mark, and Des, making for the embarrassing circumstance where we all have to stand awkwardly close to the last batter and wince as he tosses the ball to himself, hoping that he doesn't pelt one of us.  John actually belted a solid deep fly to center, and with that the teams were set.

I should pause here to note that some very unsanctioned activity proceeded from this point forward.  Since no one had any official wiffle gear on them I had to make a stop the day before at Big 5 to get a bat and balls.  They didn't have any Wiffle-brand balls, so I had to settle on getting a couple of "Junk Balls", which are similar in size, but have a ring of holes directly across the middle and have one side that is ridged and one side that is smooth.  I dare say that I actually like the pitching action you get off these balls.  Their big flaw, however, seems to be durability.  They started cracking within the first few AB's.  Granted, the Wiffle-brand balls also crack often in snowy conditions, but this seemed worse.

One other thing to mention is that this wiffle outing was going to need to be a very short one due to the snow shutting down some transit options that would have otherwise been available to one of our number.  One full two-out inning was the (comical) compromise.  Not that the cracking balls would have let us play longer anyways.

Mark took the bump for his squad.  John and I got a couple quick walks.  Then John hit a slow roller to Mark's follow-through side, which he was able to pounce on before it stopped spinning, and thereby hold the ghost runners on 1st and 2nd (despite making a pretend throwing motion to 1st).  Then I drew another walk, and then John hit a routine pop-up just backwards of Mark.  But--and maybe it was due to the snowy conditions or the fact that Des and Mark had failed to take some practice flyballs before the first pitch--the ball felt destined to drop, and drop it did, as Mark got spun around on the ball and couldn't get a hand on it.  One run in.

After that I smacked one into deep center past the basketball hoop, good for a 2-run double, runners on 2nd and 3rd with 1 out.  John then hit a nice poke-shot double into center-right for another 2 runs.  Then I struck out to end the inning.

For our bottom half of the inning I started out on the mound by first giving John a practice pop-up (which he handled cleanly).  The balls were cracking and crumbling pretty bad at this point but we kept resuscitating them and they seemed to still be working well enough.  Desi ran the count full on me and then drew a leadoff walk.  Then I got ahead of Mark in the count and induced him into a shallow popup for out #1.  Next I got Desi in a quick 1-2 hole and tried my luck on him with a knuckleball which actually worked for a strikeout.  Game over.

Mark then tried to get some built-up frustration out on the terminal balls by pelting them into the outfield.  We then scattered the junk-ball remnants in inconspicuous places around the grounds so that John's daughter, Janie, would be able to find them and be really popular among her friends.

Mark leaving behind wiffle ruins for unborn generations to wonder at

Due to the shortness of the game, those of us that didn't have to leave early (Des, John, and I) decided to make a Starbucks run out of it.  We caught up on bygone names (e.g. Rick Wilden), family dynamics, TV shows, and some of the deeper things of life, like the comparison between decades for a growing family and the joys and pains of seeing how your children express themselves in life.  One inning of ball and 45 minutes of conversing might not have appealed to the brasher, younger versions of ourselves; the ones wearing iconic red Adidas pullovers or blue & gold "jerk shirts".  But for the chic spandex generation of Gil Tyrees it was glorious.

Game Highlights

• Desi inexplicably played us in the Joe-Friend shift the whole game.  We never let on about it.  
• I technically pitched a no-hitter.  
• Pops generously treated at Starbucks.     

Bonus literary reference: "Snow lay on the croft and river-bank in undulations softer than the limbs of infancy; it lay with the neatliest finished border on every sloping roof, making the dark-red gables stand out with a new depth of color; it weighed heavily on the laurels and fir-trees, till it fell from them with a shuddering sound; it clothed the rough turnip-field with whiteness;... there was no gleam, no shadow, for the heavens, too, were one still, pale cloud; no sound or motion in anything but the dark river that flowed and moaned like an unresting sorrow."
-George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss

Game report by Pace Barker

September 15, 2018 - Game Recap

Pace & Chris vs. Paul & Verlan
Score: 18-19
Location: PARADIS3 Field (Fall City, WA)

As part of our raucous weekend of old college roommates getting together to enjoy some male bonding we made sure to dedicate a morning to a friendly game of wiffle.  The house we were staying at had a lot of acreage in the back, though with some grading challenges, but we were able to scout out a big patch and come up with an orientation that ended up making for some nice confines.

Once we were able to rouse Verlan from his deep slumber in his pitch-black guestroom, and he had appropriately layered himself, we made our way out to the maiden field to get things started.  We were a little late on start time but nobody was more than 15 minutes late so no lap-running punishments were enforced.

After hitting for teams Paul took to the mound to start off the contest.  He gave up a couple walks and a couple singles, plus a 2-run double which went over Verlan's head by quite a ways in the vast outfield which gave us all a chance to witness his interesting running form which I would describe as being very rigid and earnest, with short lunges, involving well-defined elbow thrusts (made all the more interesting by the swishing sounds of his plastic-y overcoat).  In the end of that half inning we put up 3 runs.

Then when it was our turn to take the field Chris took the mound to test out his pitching form.  Having not pitched in over 10 years, and dealing with fresh balls that hadn't yet been scuffed by time and bat contact, he struggled with his command, giving up 11 runs on only 3 hits (including one grand salami by Paul).

In the 2nd Chris and I put up just 1 or 2 more runs as we couldn't find much of a rhythm at the plate.  Paul and Verlan also put up just a couple runs as Chris settled a bit on the mound and as their plate disciple waned a bit.

In the 3rd Chris and I finally broke out for a 10-run inning with a steady string of solid hits all over the field, including a deep blast to the right-center, down-sloping homerun territory that sent Verlan running for an extra 50 feet or so in his pursuit of the ball down the wet grass and soil.  I took the mound in the bottom of the 3rd with a 15-13 lead and threw their hitting off with my rapid-fire delivery and some different arm angles.

Paul countered in the following inning with some erratic pitching that lulled us into taking some bad hacks for some easy outs.  Then they put up a run or two in their half of the frame which took us to the 5th and final inning with a score of 18-16, our lead.

With time running short we switched to a 2-out inning for that final inning.  Chris and I got the bases loaded but hit a couple grounders into the high grass that cut short our rally without tacking on any insurance runs.

In the bottom of the 5th I gave up a quick double to Paul, then got a strikeout on Verlan, then had Paul down in an 0-2 count, one strike away from victory.  I threw a good fast one in on his hands that he was able to inside-out for an opposite field single.  Then Verlan came up with 2 men on and heroically cranked an overhand curve up into the tree above the imaginary homerun line for a walk-off 3-run badonkadonk, earning himself MVP honors for the day.

Game Highlights

• Verlan successfully chased down a deep popup and caught it around his shins while still staying on his feet.
• Paul unsuccessfully chased down a short foul popup, diving into the wet grass with some interesting arm contortions.  This left him a bit rattled when he came back to the mound. 
• Paul set a record by multitasking during a wiffle game, coordinating funeral details on the phone with various church bigwigs back in Arlington.
• For postgame grub we went to McD's for breakfast.  Paul declared (sacrilegiously, in my opinion) that he wouldn't mind if the McMuffin or the McGriddle ceased to exist. 

Church guy 

Game report by Pace Barker

December 29, 2017 - Game Recap

Paul & Crato vs. Des, Pace, and Michael Funk
Score: 40-20
Location: Lambert Original (Paradise Valley, AZ)

Introduction

On a brisk winter morning in the desert valley, a silver van traversed the calderas under the first rays of sun, making its way through parched riverbeds and eventually arriving at Bar-Z Lane where it turned the corner and came careening round the driveway and onto the back dirt lot where it was put into park in the SW corner at a near 90-degree angle with the driver side windows down and the sunroof cracked. Preceding it in time but not location was a black coupe with glinting wheels; driver-side windows also down. 

Then, all in a moment, the 2 passengers from the van emerged, flanked by the man in the coupe—a slick, mustached gentleman in a black and gray jumpsuit—while a 4th man with both his arms held high above his head as if to signal a victory stepped out from the garage as the articulated door curled up and settled into its musty confines. The 4 men all walked towards each other, converging at a point where dirt meets with concrete; a site which had an aura about it as if it were some primordial altar of sacrifice, where dreams are fulfilled or crushed, labors are rewarded or rejected, and sweat and blood are shed equally.  

The men began conversing in pleasant tones, and exchanging handshakes and other forms of greeting.  A fifth, younger man with ruddy cheeks soon emerged from inside the Spanish-style home with its sun-bleached orange brick, and joined their assemblage.  A ritual then transpired in which the men, in turn, softly tossed a white plastic ball into the air with one hand while the other held a black plastic bat; the two hands then joining on the handle of the bat in an effort to make contact with the ball and hit it as far as they could.  As the ritual concluded, the men split into 2 sides and it became apparent that they were about to engage in a great battle -- a wiffle battle.  

--

With the rare occurrence of somewhere between 4 and 8 Gil Tyrees being in Phoenix roughly around the same time, the email and SMS channels were fluttering with coordination efforts to see if a game (or two) at Lambert Original might be possible.  We settled on the morning of Dec. 29th and were fortunate to get 4 of the greats there in attendance.  (We tried to do some last-minute rearranging to see if we could get Mark there but, when asked about his projected whereabouts on Jan 1, he could only sagely respond with a metaphor about predicting where farts travel after they're laid.  So I took that as a cue to not reschedule the game.)

We were almost joined by a non Gil Tyree, Scott Briggs, who was so desperate to join the elite club that when he was told he couldn't bring his 12-year-old and therefore needed to make new car arrangements, was about to take an Uber from Gilbert, but eventually thought better of it.

The matchup saw me on the mound for my side vs. Crato for his.

In the early going, I managed to keep the ball somewhat in check, getting out of a bases-loaded jam to give up only 2 runs in the first half of the inning.  After that, the Des-Pace-Michael team got 2 early outs but then employed some serious Moneyball strategy to work the pitchcount, foul off a bunch of 2-strike pitches, and hit line-drive singles in all directions to get a lot of runs on the board.  We were up 8-2 when I cleared the bases with a grand salami to go up 12-2.  Crato claimed he was relieved to have a clean slate, and then soon got the 3rd out.

In the 2nd inning their bats started to heat up and they notched it up 12-12 in the top half.  We put up 2 runs in our half of the inning, and as I took the mound I tried to tell myself that if I could stay focused we could maintain the small lead and end up on top.  It was at that point that things started to really unravel.

I gave up homer after homer after homer for the next 3 innings.  They would go on to get to 40 runs, almost all of them via the long ball.  We chipped a bit here and there, but were no match for their hitting prowess.

Crato had just a few dry spells at the plate, but for a long stretch there he was walking up to the plate and coming out swinging for the fences on the first pitch, and he did so successfully 4 or 5 times in a row.

And when Paul was at the plate he would either crank it into or over the oleander bushes, or in the cases where I got to a 2-strike count on him, he would usually reach out to get the bat on the ball and it would infuriatingly float towards one of the cars and dink it somewhere for an automatic homer.  To throw some salt in the wound, his youngster, Wally, watched most of the game leaning up against the triple wall in left-field foul territory where he would yell out, "Go Dad! Go Dad!" and repeatedly ask who was winning.  To get some outs I ended up having to throw my absolute hardest (which caused some real soreness for a few days), and when I ended the 5th with a strikeout on Paul I gave Wally a prolonged staredown.  But Oleander Lambert and his boy got the better of me that day.

One minor consolation was found in the new Jane Lambert Tree, whose namesake had had it installed without consulting anyone from any of the various wiffle chapters.  The tree sits right by the triple wall just beyond the concrete, in fair territory.  It was ruled that any ball hitting the tree would be an automatic single.  It was further proposed and ratified (3-1) that a ball that hits a leaf of the tree would not be playable for an out on the fall, but would be an automatic single.  This ruling (though I was the lone dissenter) turned out to help me when Paul twice cranked a ball to left field over the fence that would have clearly been a homer but was ruled a single when it grazed a leaf on the tree.  Des and I giggled at our luck both times, but both times Crato immediately followed the single with a homer, rendering our luck hollow.

Game Highlights

• The Lambert gardner, Gaylen, showed up in about the 3rd inning and caught up with Paul while he was on deck.  
• In the wiffle waffle battle Patty went toe to toe with Jane and came out on top.  Jane had planned on Belgian waffles for the boys following the game, but due to some earlier waffling, Patty pounced and ended up hosting a breakfast of her own, which the Barker boys were obliged to attend.
• Michael got a bloody finger from a Crato pitch but downplayed it as just dryness, and then called time to put a band-aid on it.  
• During the band-aid timeout, while Paul scaled the house to fetch a ball from the roof, Crato pitched a ball to Des and declared that the pitch was "all or nothing".  Des then cranked the pitch for a homer, giving his team the technical victory on the day.   

Left: "Pitch it inside on his dry fingers." | Right: Des cranking an all-or-nothing homer (note Paul on the roof)

Game report by Pace Barker

December 26, 2016 - Game Recap

Pace & A-Man vs. Paul & Bluth
Score: 7-4
Location: Founding Fathers Jr. Field (Arlington, VA)

Due to the continued suckiness of Butler Holmes Park - Field 2 we decided to try to make peace with the trailers that had once colonized our beloved Founding Fathers Field.  The result was a harmonious integration of the trailers as homerun markers into a beautiful new Founding Fathers Jr. Field.

What looked to be a hitter-friendly park turned out (on this day at least) to be very offense minimizing.  Any time you felt like you got a hold of one it would seemingly catch some dense air in left field and float around, giving the outfielder plenty of time to track it down for a flyout.

To start the game off in the top of the 1st I hit one such deadened line drive to shallow left that Paul made an old-man lumbering run at but couldn't quite get to before it dropped in for a single.  Then A-Man followed up with a high pop-up that landed just a few feet behind Bluth -- we all watched (including Bluth) as Paul hustled in from deep left to try to make a play at it but it was apparent it would drop in for a single.  [Bluth seemed to have forgotten his footwork fundamentals from his Chaparral days, and any time a pop-up went behind him (no matter how close) his legs and feet seemed to resist the impulse to turn around or back-pedal to try to make a play on the ball.]  After that fortunate start, A-Man and I managed to put 3 runs up on the board.

When it was Paul's and Bluth's turn to bat they strung together some walks and singles to manage 1 run in their half of the frame.

Both pitchers (Bluth and myself) settled in for the next few innings and adapted to allow the field to help us out on defense.  The Bluth approach was to toss in a bunch of lob-balls that were generally not over the meat of the plate -- either intentionally or not.  These tantalizers induced a good amount of deadened left-field flyouts, jam-shots, and bad-footwork grounders.  Over the next 3 innings A-Man and I managed 1 run to Paul and Bluth's 0.

By the top of the 5th however A-Man and I had seemingly cracked the code, and we rode a rhythm of intentional alternating left-field grounders (Pace) and opposite field dinkers (A-Man) to tack on 3 more runs, putting us up 7-1 going into the bottom half of the final inning.

Paul and Bluth however would not go down easy as they came out roaring to start the bottom of the 5th.  With a runner on 1st Paul hit an absolute laser to left which went right to A-Man but ate him up for an assisted triple off the deflection off the hands -- this was the first extra-base hit of the day.  Immediately following, Bluth hit a deep high one to centerfield.  A-Man attempted to track it down but was flustered as he tried to negotiate through the obstacle course of Lambert kids.  He was able to get there in time but only managed to do a sort of arm-scooping motion at the ball and inadvertently batted it backwards into the wall of the garden box for a 2-run dinger.  Thankfully, I had a big enough cushion of runs to work with that even though I labored on the mound and gave up a few more walks and singles I was generally able to keep the ball in the zone and eventually get Bluth to fly out to left on a full-count 12-6 curveball for the final out.

We then all convened at the mound to recap the game.  Paul and Bluth took some comfort in the fact that at least they were winners off the field.  When I pressed for some details on this Paul chided me for asking unnecessary follow-up questions.  After some good discussion, we all made our way to District Taco for the RC-Willey Postgame Celebration.

Game Highlights

• Bluth warned Paul (accurately) at the beginning of the game that his team hasn't won a wiffle game in 15 years.
• For the first time, a folding stool was used as a sitting place for the catcher.  This decision was universally and enthusiastically lauded; though it also occasioned some regret for the many wasted years of squatting.  

Wishing you a merry Christmas

Training the next generation

Game report by Pace Barker

January 30, 2016 - Game Recap

Pace & A-Man vs. Paul, James, & Bluth
Score: 10-5 (through 2-1/3 innings)
Location: Butler Holmes Park - Field 2 (Arlington, VA)

The stars aligned to bring 'Kuwaiti James' into D.C. for a few days while I am currently home alone as the rest of my family is out of the country for a month.  So James and Paul had the brilliant idea to do a Friday-night Gil Tyree slumber party at my house.  It's amazing how easily you can ease right back into your old high school/college conversations and behavior when the setting is right like that.

We talked about old flames and funny Crato stories and stuff like that till about 2 in the morning, and then we all got in our jammies and bunked up together to watch 'Furious 5', committed to trying to watch the whole thing.  I made a comment at about the 10-minute mark and when James didn't respond we realized that he was a goner.  About 5 minutes after that Bluth told us to wake him up when it got to the "Brazhio" part, which neither Paul or I had any idea what that meant.

About 40 minutes later, after Mia tells Brian that she's pregnant, and Dom brings them in for a group hug and sagely proclaims, "the family just got bigger," Paul and I decided to hit the sack so we could be ready for our 7:16am sunrise game.

The room we were sleeping in doesn't have a clock so when James's phone was buzzing and I saw him moving around I figured it was just about time to get up.  And then Bluth's alarm sounded, and he and James were wide awake (and cheerful) while Paul and I were still half asleep and Paul started lodging complaints at them for snoring so loud all night and keeping him awake.  Then, in anticipation of my phone alarm going off, but it never sounding, I decided to ask what time it was only to learn that it was only 6:00am.  With Paul and I confused and irritated as to why we were being awoken so early, Bluth cheerfully explained that he didn't actually set his alarm for that time, he just didn't "unset" it, which was only slightly satisfying.  He further clarified that he and James often have to wake up early so they can worry about "old-guy" things like seeding their lawn, and keeping kids off their lawn, and making sure the paper doesn't get wet from the sprinklers, and other such concerns.  The only solace in all of this tomfoolery was that we might still manage to catch some zzz's until the real alarm went off at about 6:50am.  So Paul and I tried to ignore the old guys and bury our heads in our pillows.  We successfully dozed off only to have James blurt out about 5 minutes later, "Whoa! Serena lost!" which didn't really seem like wake-up-worthy news to us, so we tried to snooze one more time but had little success since Bluth was the first to fall asleep and was now snoring very loudly.

When we all woke up for real we got decked out in our many layers for the tundra conditions we would soon face on the playing field.  James was the most ill-prepared for this, having been acclimatized to the Kuwaiti desert, and having just had to shave his beard for his LDS-safezone school interview at SVU.

After hitting for teams we got underway with Bluth on the mound for his side.  His tantalizers induced some ugly swings and he quickly had 2 outs with no runners on base.  He got excited and told James he would treat him to Sizzler later that night if he got a 1-2-3 inning.  Then we quickly got a bunch of hits and put up 6 runs.  One of those hits was a fast grounder that zigzagged on the uneven snow and sent James running in one direction only to double back and do a banana-peel slip and fall.

Their team then fired back with a 4-run inning thanks to a double homer off of Paul's bat.

The defense on the hard-snow field had some pros and cons.  The cons were that mobility was very limited so it was tiring and difficult to chase down flyballs.  Also locating the white balls in the white snow to throw them back to the pitcher was no easy task.  The pro, however, was that the grounders would invariably skid across the crusty snow until they sank into a footprint divot where they would wildly spin in place for 10 seconds or so.  James quickly (and annoyingly) got wise to this and became an expert in playing deep and then very slowly fielding grounders for outs since the ball was still technically rolling.

Another condition that needs to be mentioned is that the extreme cold meant that the balls cracked under too much pressure, which meant we had to be careful with our meager 3 balls in inventory.  James took this precaution a little too seriously and tried to do some sort of delicate swinging bunt thing only to foul twice and then make an ill-advised hack at a 3rd pitch in the dirt for a strikeout.  

In the 2nd inning, down to only one ball remaining, and with their team figuring out some crafty defensive maneuvers, we got blanked during our turn to bat.  Their team then countered with a run in their half of the frame, bringing it to a tight 6-5 ballgame headed into the 3rd.

In the 3rd Paul came on in relief, which put Bluth behind the plate, which, according to him, was bad news for us since he used to be a catcher.  James's new strategy from the outfield appeared to be to ask lots of questions to A-Man while he was at the plate.  I was able to identify this quickly from the dugout, and helped A-Man to make sure his mental plate preparation wasn't overly compromised.  Thankfully, he was able to stay laser-focused and pound some doubles mid-sentence.  We had a good streak going and had put up 3 runs when A-Man came to the plate and got another 2-out hit, driving in another run, but also cracking our last wiffleball.  We all conferred at home plate and James proposed that since we were short on time instead of trying to leave the field and find some new wiffleballs we call the game (with their team declared as the victors; and the score doesn't matter -- whatever), and head over to District Taco for some breakfast.  I was worried about what the other Gil Tyrees would think, but James told some profound story (which I've now forgotten) which convinced us all that it was the right decision.  Bluth taught us that by being decisive like this we were able to avoid "going on the road to Abilene" -- a fitting analogy he had learned from his business management ("BusM") days at BYU.  I think it all played out the way R.C. Willey would have wanted.

James explaining the virtues of District Taco's breakfast

One of several moments when Bluth would proclaim, "I really like D.C."

Pregame, In-game, and Postgame Highlights:

• The series of questions James posed to A-Man had the residual benefit of waking up Bluth's 'Inquisitive Adam' side
• The slumber party & wiffle & District Taco good vibes were so strong that James was overcome and responded by giving me an awkward back massage while we were waiting for our food
• James and Adam didn't say their prayers before going to bed

Paul doing his best impersonation of Joe Friend impersonating a Russian.  Bluth relying on artificial energy drinks to enhance his performance.

   Game report by Pace Barker

December 19, 2015 - Game Recap

Pace & A-Man vs. Des, Paul, & Bluth
Score: 11-8
Location: Butler Holmes Park - Field 2 (Arlington, VA)

The day started off with an unpleasant surprise.  Bluth (who claims to have shown up an hour early to play a full-length mental game with his sports psychologist) was the first to arrive on the scene where he witnessed an all-too-familiar scene of wiffle terrorism (see below).  

The once majestic Butler Holmes Park - Field 1; now fenced off as a 'tree preservation area'

We think terrorist drones must be scanning for corresponding dead grass patches of pitchers' mounds and batters' boxes.  We hardly knew ye, Butler Holmes Park - Field 1.

So we considered alternative options and chose the path of least resistance: play in the adjacent patch of grass.  It all seemed fine until about pitch #1 when we soon realized that 1) the field sloped down towards home plate, and, even more challenging, 2) now that the sun was coming out it was directly in the hitter's line of sight.  But we played on all the same.

Glare.  (Much worse than this picture makes it appear.)

The chilly-morning game started off with some dinky singles and walks, and A-Man and I were able to manufacture a pair of runs off Des.  Whenever one of us had a good AB we would bump fists, but in a very delicate way since the cold made it too painful.  Their defense displayed some good leather right away, and Paul was honored to be dubbed 'Department of Defense', and then Bluth dubbed himself 'The No-Fly Zone'.

The Des-Paul-Bluth team then had their turn to try to put up some runs.  Comically, each time a new batter stepped into the box, even though he knew the glare would be tough, he had to laugh at just how bad it was.  On the mound I tried to use all these factors to my advantage, and I was generally cruising until Paul smacked a dead-red fastball right into the middle of my face on my nose and lip.  It was amazing too because in addition to my 5 or so layers of clothing, I was also wearing a ski cap and goggles and a beardo attachment; yet the icy ball somehow found the one uncovered part of my face.  I quickly fell to the ground in pain and shock; and I vividly remember hearing Desi's giggling.  But after a minute or two I collected myself and took the mound to some classy applause.  On top of that single I also surrendered a smooth-stroke dinger to Des, allowing them to notch it up at 2-2 after 1.  

A-Man and I had a decent next few innings offensively, though I myself was pretty useless.  And their stalwart defense didn't last past the 1st inning.  Paul fell victim to the bobble, Bluth got psyched out and dropped an easy popup, and Desi charged in for a short popup but then inexplicably didn't extend his hands to make a play on the ball, allowing it to fall just a few inches in front of his face and drop for a foul.  (I suspect he was too concerned about maintaining his good-looking preppy sweater.)  Immediately following this poor display Desi reminded us that even in his Provo heyday he was awarded 'Worst Defensive Pitcher'.  Now knowing that, none of us judged him too poorly.

On the Pace & A-Man defensive side I was struggling with my command but still managing to rack up quite a few strikeouts thanks largely to the combination of a falling curveball and the blinding sun.  The general pattern for their offense was Bluth would use his psychological skills to frustrate me into walking him, Paul would get some good contact but often for well-defended outs, and Schlienel-Bagel (Des) would take some smooth pitching-wedge cuts and send the ball over the fence for a homer.  

The game was back-and-forth each inning with the Pace & A-Man team maintaining a small lead throughout.  In the 5th and final inning, with only a 2-run lead A-Man came up big with a 4-run double homer off the tin roof of the ramada.  Ever resilient, Bluth then gave Des the reassurance that their team was still in good shape for a number of reasons, chief among them that they still had 'The No-Fly Zone'.

And so we headed into the final frame with an 11-5 lead.  On the mound, as I struggled with my command, I was feeling the dread of giving up the lead and having to watch them celebrate.  I had given up 3 runs and had a runner on with only one out to show for it.  But then I was fortunately able to get a popup, and then faced Paul with 2 down.  I got the count in my favor and went for the curveball which had been staying inside on me all day.  I got it to break and dip right over the middle-high part of the strike zone for the punchout.  Paul didn't like the call, and it's not a great way to end the game, but I firmly stand by it.  

Game Highlights

• Next to the double-homer ramada sit 2 trash cans: 1 recycle and 1 regular.  In an effort to promote earth preservation awareness in the younger wiffle generation it was decided that a ball hit into the recycle can would be awarded a 10x homer, while hitting the plastic ball into the regular trash can would be a minus-10 homer.  
• There was a controversial play when A-Man made a great running catch at a would-be double by Paul.  His speed was so great that after he caught the ball he ran headlong for 3 or 4 bounding lunges until he became almost parallel with the paved ground and had to dive forward into the grassy homerun territory where the ball popped out on contact with the ground.  I ruled it an out given how long he had hung onto it, but was asked to provide some rule clarification, and their team suggested an asterisk in the final scoring might be warranted.
• At times, Bluth's psychological powers extended to his teammates.  For example, when their team needed a big pitch Bluth would yell, "Bulldog!" at Des with great effectiveness.  
• In spending the rest of the day with Des and some members of the Wiffle Wives Club it became apparent that Des was proud of his 4 homers and didn't care too much that the team had lost.
• Bluth opened up to us about trying to overcome his BYU sports addiction.  We all sputtered off some possible alternative forms of entertainment for him but now I feel like it was a missed opportunity for some therapeutic healing.  

Game report by Pace Barker

August 1, 2015 - Game Recap

Paul & Pace vs. James & Bluth
Score: 25-14
Location: Butler Holmes Park (Arlington, VA)

With a rare U.S. appearance by Saudi Arabian legend, James Lambert, we figured it was a great time to squeeze in some Saturday wiffle action.

Since it just felt right to have it be older brother generation vs. younger brother generation we dispensed with the custom of hitting for teams, and instead hit for longest ball to see who would bat first.  Paul and I outclobbered Bluth and James by a longshot which kind of set the tone for the James and Adam mantra of them doing the little things to win ballgames.  "Don't you guys wish you were as good at doing the little things." "Maybe when you guys are older you'll know it's all about the little things."  And so on and so forth.

Bluth took the mound in the first (but only for part of it -- James took the mound for about 2 pitches somewhere in there; gave up a long single, and ceded the mound back to Bluth), making the arrogant pronouncement early on that he was the only one in the league that ever played high school baseball.  We (Paul mostly) managed to knock them around a bit for 5 runs, and in the process breaking in the field with its first extra-base hits, including a homerun in the nature reserve.

But to their credit they roared right back with a 9-run inning in the bottom half of the frame.  In the first pitch James faced he saw one come in a little high and outside and pelted it straight back to centerfield.  James, Paul had just warned me, was having a post-career resurgence, as all the Lambert brothers could attest from their recent family reunion in Idaho.  As they batted around they bantered about high school friends, 90's music, "little things", various vulgarities, and some other inane James commentary involving references to things like Seal and Giselle in the same sentence.  But to his credit he also compared Rae (my 4-yr-old daughter who was standing like a statue near the home-run line wearing a bright pink hat) to Glenn Close in The Natural, and then proceeded to hit a grandslam right in her direction.

But the challenge for their team on this steamy August afternoon would be endurance.  I guess lack of focus would be another challenge for them.  And for that matter you could add despondence to the list.  As Paul's and my bats continued to heat up, with such feats as answering Bluth's taunts of, "I dare you to hit it in my direction" with a next-pitch 3-run jack right over his head, and wailing one over the yellow fence into the basketball court (a Butler Holmes Park first), their bats only seemed to cool down.  While Paul and I added 20 runs to our total over the next few innings they would put up only 5 more runs over the course of the game, but a few of those had asterisks with things like grounding out to the pitcher but claiming that it was a foul ball, batting out of order but accusing us of being weenies, etc.  Maybe this was what they meant by the little things.

And I assume that the little things philosophy only applied on offense, since they had a rough spell of dropping several easy popups, including one where James, as he chased back from the mound while Bluth charged in, hurriedly hollered out at the last second  "You got it!", which Bluth interpreted as "Got it!".  Bluth requested that going forward James not use the words "got it!" in a case where he was not going to make a play on the ball, and James suggested that he just say, "Got it!" for plays where he wanted Bluth to get the ball, and "I got it!" for plays where he would try to catch the ball.  A couple more possibilities were tossed out by James but they never seemed to reach a consensus.  All that being said, however, James did surprise us all when there was a deep fly to the outfield that we were all certain was going to drop for a hit once he started having to maneuver around the outfield bench and awkwardly negotiate his way up the hill, but he made a diving grab to snatch it for an out.

By the end of the 3rd we were running a bit short on time and we proposed making it a 4-inning game only (to which Bluth too-hastily agreed).  In that final 4th inning they had all the right phrases (e.g. "x number of runs is like a freethrow in basketball.") but the body language just wasn't there.  When we ran out of balls to pitch with since they had all piled up either in homerun or foul territory, but no one on their side was bothering to throw them back into play, that told you everything you needed to know.

Game Highlights

• Paul dubbed the homerun nature reserve spot (or rather he allowed me to dub it for him), "The Sierra Club Nature Reserve"
• 3 motions were made with the following outcomes
• Motion to name the triple bench in centerfield, 'Bartman Bench' for always getting in the way when you need to catch a pop-up
• Motion upheld 3-1
• Motion to make the yellow border of the homerun fence be a 2x homer (with the add-on that it be applied retroactively for the benefit of the James and Bluth team)
• Motion struck down 2-2
• Motion to make the tree in centerfield a triple-tree (with the add-on that the James and Bluth team receive some random bonus that I can no longer recall)
• Motion struck down 2-2
• James and Adam accused me of having an ESPN 'Body Mag' poster of Bryce Harper in my bedroom.  This joke morphed into us making plans for a 'Skin Edition' 2016 calendar of all the wiffle greats.  
• James and Bluth successfully used sabermetrics as well as old-school scouting reports to shift around the field on defense depending on the situation.  (For example, you can see below that in the early innings they played shallow outfield, and later on they played deep outfield, particularly with the James "highball" in play.)

The Bluth slider

The James "highball"

Editors Note (8/10/15): A previous version of this post incorrectly excluded the Bartman Bench motion and inadvertently omitted a game highlight regarding the 'Skin Edition' calendar.

Game report by Pace Barker

November 28, 2014 - Game Recap

Paul & Pace vs. A-Man & R. Paul
Score: 11-10
Location: Butler Holmes Park (Arlington, VA)

In the wake of the November 19th 90-minute moment of silence to remember the inauguration of Founding Fathers Field before it was brutally hacked to shreds, we figured it was time to come to grips with reality and get back on the field.  Due to some great reconnaissance work by Paul we discovered a most-adequate plot of land that we're hopeful will serve nicely for years to come, and will avoid the plague of trailers that seems to be going around.

The likely replacement field for the now deceased Founding Fathers Field.

With the rarely-used R. Paul getting called up for some last-minute action, it was Paul & Pace who looked to be the favorites on this chilly, windy day in Arlington.

The first inning started off with the pitchers having an upper hand, with both pitchers (A-Man and Pace) tossing perfect innings for their respective teams.

As the innings wore on and the layers (which included bike gloves, ski goggles, and a 'Beardo' attachment) came off, the bats started to come to life, though with a fair share of wind to contend with.

R. Paul showed some grit early on by showing a willingness to crowd the plate which resulted in several bean balls and got him a couple of walks.

By the end of the 2nd inning A-Man & R. Paul were up 4-1 thanks to some scrappy play.

In the 3rd Paul & Pace loaded the bases but managed to drive in only one run, while A-Man & R. Paul tacked on another 4 runs.  R. Paul had a hilarious streak of singles that came in just about every way imaginable (right- and left-field slow rollers, right- and left-field medium-strength grounders, up-the-middle grounders, halfway popups that were just beyond the pitcher's reach and just shallow enough that a diving outfielder couldn't get to it).  Witnessing the repeated combination of the tantalizingly slow wiffle ball juxtaposed with the chaotic flurry of the unsuccessful fielders was just too hilarious after about the 6th occurrence, and after Paul & I nearly dove into each other trying to catch one of these balls we both had a fit of laughter for about 10 seconds laying there on the ground, the innocent white ball there between us.

The 4th inning was a little more of the same; A-Man & R. Paul running their lead up to 10-3.

Paul & Pace decided to bear down in their final inning, and with the combination of some decent hitting, help from the wind (one pop-up was headed straight for the outfield and then lifted up and ended up landing about 2 feet away from the pitcher), and help from the blinding sun (a dinky foul pop-up managed to touch down without a play from A-Man), were able to put up 8 runs to take a 1-run lead and be in a position to close out the game.  With all the momentum now on their side, Pace & Paul were able to close out the game without much drama.

Game Highlights

• In convening on Veitch St. before the game Paul reported on the comical site of A-Man running down the street in only his gym shorts, flip-flops, and undershirt hauling his trashcan, hurrying to catch the garbage man on his Friday morning route. 
• This was the first game in a long time in which no extra base hits occurred.  It must have been fate too because A-Man had a good hit to straightaway center that had the triple bench in its cross-hairs but somehow managed to glide right through the narrow slits for a long single.
• Pace was able to frequently channel his inner Byun Hun Kim by dipping down on his pitching delivery for some good sidearm submariners but with only modest success.
• It took Paul until his 4th plate appearance before even making contact with a ball.

Game Report by Pace Barker

R.I.P. Founding Fathers Field - The Nineteenth of November, Two Thousand and Eleven, Anno Domini, to the Twenty Third of July, Two Thousand and Fourteen, Anno Domini

"(1/2) In an unsuccessful attempt to knock on Paul's door (resulting in a confused Wally), I realized I should text this. The wiffle field known as Founding Fath(2/2) ers Memorial park, has two very large portable classrooms sitting on it. The scene is horrific exhibited by the foul pole table being slightly askew" 

"(1/2) We deserved a hearing at least with Arlington County Board before they made such a mistake - deprivation of wiffle life, liberty, and property without due(2/2)  process under the fourteenth and fourth amendments. I guess the Gil Tyree dues don't buy quite the lobbying clout it once did." 
-Text from A-Man, 7/23/14

It started with the July 23 text sequence from A-Man, and was confirmed today on my routine check-in on the grounds: The Founding Fathers Field has a giant trailer covering basically the entire field.

Mayhem.
"Behold now behemoth...; he eateth grass as an ox." (Job 40:15)

How these proceedings took place without the Gil Tyrees' involvement or consent is a legal atrocity for the ages.  The impact on the current and future generations of D.C. area wifflers is hard to fathom -- I get queasy just thinking about it.

The sheer injustice of it all has spawned a meme phenomenon on the Internet of a trailer being superimposed on significant landmarks to help draw comparisons of the true impact of this horrific occurrence.