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[jough]

Wombat's just young at heart.

And Paul is older than he looks, evidently.  Hell, I was still playing Wiffle™ ball in 1980, albeit a local revision of the game that included us basically beating each other with those plastic bats for whatever penalty needed to be inflicted (and there were many).

[AugustWest]

I still play the occasional game of Wiffle ball today.

Well, not today as in January 22, 2004 because it's too cold out and nobody would want to play and the bat would get brittle and crack.  But we play at my in-laws family functions.

It's fun.

[Carlos del Vaca]

I throw a mean-ass wiffle curve.

Back in the day, we always said that if you hit the top window of the house, it was worth five runs.  Nobody ever did it though.

[pmcd9]

I still play the occasional game of Wiffle ball today.

I throw a mean-ass wiffle curve.

Let's stay on topic people.  We were talking about how young I look.

~Paul

[wombat]

Wombat's just young at heart.

Ugh, this is what you say about someone who's 80 and doesn't complain too much about the nursing home food.  I'd much rather be immature.

But hey, that Paul - doesn't he look fresh-faced, innocent and beautiful?

[Carlos del Vaca]

Let's stay on topic people.  We were talking about how young I look.

You'll look like a big baby when I strike you out with my mean-ass wiffle curve.   :lol:

[V-Adore]

Oh, GAWD, this is what happens when you let the oldsters talk to each other!

I'm gonna go to my ROOM and talk to my FRIENDS about DEEP SPACE NINE and OUR HORRIBLE MUSIC and BAGGY DUNGAREES.

... look, someone needed to be the whippersnapper here...

[wombat]

V, you come back down here RIGHT NOW and apologize to the nice old people!

[slink]

OK, damn cross Atlantic thing again. What the fuck is wiffle ball?

[jough]

We used to just play it like baseball, in the street, with chalk marks on the curb, or else a brick or something next to the curb which would mark the "base".

Yes, I suppose American Baseball may not be familiar to those across the pond, although there is an English World League Baseball team (the London Teacups).

Eventually we grew bored with the non-painful game and came up with our own rules, based something on raquetball and suicide:

The game is played with a large wall and a hard but bouncy rubber ball.  Since the Wiffleball bat wasn't really strong enough for this type of ball we'd usually wrap the bat up with black electrical tape first.  This made it much stronger and more painful.

The "fielders" would stand behind the batter in varying distances.  There were no teams - everyone would have their own personal score.  The batter would serve the ball to himself by throwing the ball against the wall, and then would hit the ball (again against the wall) and run around the bases WHILE CARRYING HIS BAT.  If someone caught the ball off the wall with no bounce first they'd then get to try to get the batter out by throwing the hard ball at him.  If they missed, someone else could pick it up and try to tag the runner/batter with the ball.  The batter could try to fight them off from doing this with his bat.

If the ball touched the ground first someone could still pick it up, but if they threw it at the batter and missed the batter automatically received a point and got to throw a penalty throw at the fielder, who would "assume the position" against the wall (facing the wall, legs spread apart, hands on the wall, and head down, if he knew what was good for him).  The batter would then stand back on the batter's box and would throw the ball as hard as he could at the fielder.  Body shots earned you an extra point, arms and legs were no points, and if you missed, you changed places with the fielder who would then be able to get a penalty shot off of you.

Batters kept batting until someone threw or tagged them out.  The rotation was just an arbitrary order, and everyone kept track of everyone else's score.

[slink]

Right. OK.
We just played baseball in the field next to our house. Or football in the parkland in the forest up from us, when we could get enough people (American football that is, not fuck*ng soccer... ugh).

[Carlos del Vaca]

OK, damn cross Atlantic thing again. What the fuck is wiffle ball?

This made me laugh my ass off until my wife asked me what my problem was.

[andalucia]

I like totally know how you FEEL, V.  They just don't UNDERSTAND.
*hysterical sobbing, listening loudly to angst-ridden, bass-heavy music in room with door locked*

[wombat]

You kids, you never appreciate how good you've got it.  When I was your age we didn't even HAVE internet messageboards.  We had to carve our notes to our friends into pieces of rock with our fingernails and then walk barefoot five miles in the snow to leave them piled up in front of the old country store.  Can you imagine how much trouble it was to carve my avatar onto all those pieces of rock?  No, you can't even imagine.  And you think you can complain.

[slink]

No, you can't even imagine.  And you think you can complain.

I'm not complaining here, just mentioning that when I was a kid we didn't have avatars. I only got into the whole online thing relatively late, about '92, and until about 3 years ago I didn't know of this whole avatar thing. The only place I ever talked to people online was on IRC which I'd been using for several years, news wotsits, and the odd very plain forum.
Then suddenly I discover this whole, sticking pictures next to your name thing.
Then I started actually using them!
I tried to resist since it felt like it went against everything I believed in.
I'm possibly sadder than geeky.