Backyard Baseball

The weather was G-L-O-R-I-O-U-S this weekend. Perfect for working in the yard. The sprinklers needed some work to be gung-ho for the season so most of the morning was spent digging up heads and adding risers, fixing leaks, and adjusting spray patterns. The kids put on their swimsuits and were more than happy to help dig around in the water and mud.

Then it was a quick trip to Lowe’s (which apparently is where most of town hangs out on a sunny Saturday….that place was PACKED) for some irrigation parts and some Weed ‘n’ Feed for the lawn and back home to the yard.

Now since we purchased weed killer, naturally, the wind picked up so that I couldn’t apply anything. Plus I managed to pull or bruise something in my foot last Tuesday (totally what I get for wearing flip-flops to the grocery store and breaking my own guideline about supportive footwear ) and being on my feet all day that spot was beginning to nag.  Obviously a change of plans was in order. Somehow one thing lead to another and next thing you know the family was in the middle of some sort of pick-up game that you can loosely term ‘baseball’

Home plate was the tee, first and second were baseball gloves, and third was the irrigation box. Both kids are really getting the hang of the “hit the ball, drop the bat, run the bases” pattern. Kevin and I are pitchers/coaches/teammates. The dog acts as left-right-center fielder. There is no tagging out yet since the dog only grabs the ball and runs it back to home plate. That’s also why we play with tennis balls instead of real balls. If you use a real baseball Tilly wants to stop and chew the cover off which is one of the few no-no's in this game. The goat acts as dugout manager. He stands on the sidelines chewing cud and making the occasional rude noise, thankfully he does not spit. The uniform standard is very lax. Swimsuits and rain boots are totally acceptable. It’s a crazy game.

It can also be a bit dangerous….another reason we use tennis balls over baseballs. The batters have wild swings sending balls flying and unexpected angles. The dog likes to hover around the tee waiting for a hit. What she’s more likely to get is a firm “thwhack” upside the head, but that hasn’t seemed to have processed through her brain yet. The waiting batters also tend to wander into the “hit zone” as their patience in waiting for their turn wears thin. That or Jack feels the need to ‘coach’ his sister…hysterical since he barely knows what he’s doing himself.

 

Once a hit is made though, all bets are off. There is lots of giggling and running from base to base (not always in a linear fashion). I’m usually saying things like, “Drop the bat, drop the….No drop it, don’t throw it! Okay now run to first. Go GO!!!” Kevin is chasing the kids. Emilie might decide to growl like a bear and chase Kevin back. The dog is running in circles around the whole debacle, jaws holding the ball, and tongue hanging to one side. The goat is standing and chewing cud…I think he’d roll his eyes if he could.

Just another summer Saturday in the backyard.