Swingin' for the Fence

I woke up Sunday morning with no ill effects from my jog/walk on Saturday. As far as I could tell, I was skunk-free and relatively un-arthritic. That's a pretty good start to the day. And it got better.

We didn't have a big turnout at swim practice, so our "triathlon drafting practice" set had a bunch of gaps in it. But I still enjoyed swimming circles around the diving area with my teammates, and left the pool feeling like I'd had a good workout.

After swimming, I dropped by to pick up Tanner for our weekly tennis match. First, though, we got online to check his report card from his second semester of college. Not good. Not good at all. He'd better make it big as a rock star, because his academic credentials leave much to be desired at this point. If anyone knows how to insert a good dose of responsibility and a healthy portion of planning mojo into the obscure labyrinth of a teenager's brain, please share the secret with me. Thanks.

Since it was mid-afternoon on the most gorgeous weekend day of the year so far, the tennis courts were all occupied. But the batting cages weren't, so we decided to hoist some lumber and give Mr. Spalding a ride.

(That's baseball slang for "get a bat and hit baseballs". The only problem is that this facility had only aluminum bats, and the balls are some sort of weird, dimpled yellow mutations that look like something you'd find on a miniature golf course for Sasquatch. It doesn't exactly evoke the spirit of Abner Doubleday when the ball has no stitches and the bat goes "ping". Oh well.)

Tanner noted how long it had been since he had swung a bat (~7 years) and then made a comment about how I probably couldn't hit anything either. I took that opportunity to remind him that I was the Tony Gwynn of the slow-pitch softball world, hitting over .800 when I had last played a full season in a league. My last partial season's average was even better -- I batted one thousand. (Absolutely true -- I got a single in my first at bat of the year, but then ended the season with a pulled hammie on my first outfield opportunity five minutes later. And come to think of it, my total errors have usually matched my total number of hits in every season I've played. So maybe the Tony Gywnn comparison was stretching it a bit (perhaps I was more of a George Brett) -- but I still expected to be able to show the boy some fungo prowess.)

I went first. Put the token in the slot, assumed a Mighty Casey stance, and laser-focused my eyes on the arm of the pitching machine. The pitch, the swing, and... the namby-pamby popup. Ugh.

No sweat, I thought. It was a fluke. I calmed my mind and tried to call forth my inner Reggie Jackson. (No, not Randy Jackson, and not the hypnotized queen-stalking Reggie Jackson from the Naked Gun, either...the one who hit all those post season home runs and had the candy bar named after him.)

It didn't quite work. Out of 16 pitches, I probably had 2 solid hits, 6 weak popups, 7 foul balls, and one complete whiff. Tanner was laughing, and looking forward to his turn.

I won't embarrass him, though, by describing his attempts. Let's just say that at the end of his session there were more balls behind him than in front. For both of us, the Mendoza line was beginning to look like the Great Wall of China.

We moved on to the 45mph baseball cage. It needed to be adjusted, since the balls were bouncing in front of the plate, but we adapted by moving about 5 feet closer to the pitching machine. If anyone would've been watching, there's a good chance that we'd have ended up on America's Funniest Videos. Let's just say that no major league scouts will be calling us any time soon.

But we had fun, and that's the point after all, right?

And after a good exercise outing like that, what's the next logical step for a father and son team to take? That's right -- massive amounts of Mexican food.

Ahhh.

Overall, it was a good day. We talked about all sorts of topics, including music (which was fun) and strategies for improving Tanner's grades (which was not). We discussed the future of his band, and the tour they're going to take this summer. The band is probably going to be getting a new name, and if they do, you'll hear about it here, first. There will definitely be new music. Stay tuned.

Monday, I woke up thinking that I really had eaten too much to digest in one night, but then I figured out that the soreness in my midsection was just a little muscle tightness from twisting so much in the batter's box. As for Memorial Day, well, there were many memories evoked by my day's activities. I'll share some of those with you in my next posting. Until then, have a great day!