 |
| by Chris McGinty of AccordingToWhim.com |
I do remember being out there
batting, waiting for the pitcher to fake a pitch. That’s how we did it. It was
supposed to simulate what would be happening when we later got into real
baseball. The outfielders weren’t really all that far in the outfield, because none
of us were going to hit it that hard. I was one of the better hitters on my tee
ball team, because I practiced…
 |
| If baseball was once America’s pastime, then it must be part of Summertime Funtime, or you must acquit. |
Let me tell you a story about practicing tee ball. My parents bought a tee for me to practice with. I remember understanding, which is what probably made me good, that I wasn’t trying to clobber the ball. I was just trying to swing level, as instructed. This didn’t stop me from causing my brother to be taken to the hospital.
As I got better at swinging
level, I was obligated as a rambunctious child to start trying to clobber the
ball. I must have been around 6, because my brother was old enough to walk. He
walked behind me. I was swinging so hard, no longer practicing the level swing,
that I did the rookie move of swinging past 180 degrees. My brother was
standing somewhere at around 190 degrees, and I popped him in the head with the
bat. I tried killing my brother a few times when we were young. I promise it was
never intentional.
He was ok, no concussion. I don’t
think the bat had very much force by the time it connected with his head. The
important part was that he was shorter than me, which meant that I needed more
practice swinging level. I’m kidding. I wasn’t thinking about practicing
anymore.
Chris McGinty is a blogger who
hasn’t tried to kill his brother during their adult lives. He’s starting to
wonder if there’s a reason his brother lives so far away though.
No comments:
Post a Comment