Throwing It Back To The Wiffle Ball King Of Brooklyn

In honor of Throwback Thursday, I thought that I would hop in my Time Machine and travel back to a time when I was the Wiffle Ball King of  Brooklyn.

WiffleI love this old photograph of me.  I must be 9 or 10, and I’m standing in the driveway of our house on 77th Street in Bay Ridge.

We shared a driveway with the two elder ladies next door, who I only ever knew as “The Sisters.”  They were so sweet and kind.  I remember that they didn’t have a car, so they rented out their garage to a young woman, who parked her green car there.

It was such an odd concept to me back then that someone would pay to park in a stranger’s garage when there were parking spots all over the neighborhood.  Now, however, as a car owner, I truly appreciate knowing exactly where my vehicle is going to spend the night.

I’ve always been a fan of black and white photography, so I think that’s another reason why this photo appeals to me so much.  That look on my face is priceless.  I have no clue who took the photo, so I don’t know if I was giving the unknown photographer a little attitude, or just being my usual sullen self.

I do know I loved playing Wiffle Ball when I was a kid.  We would use the front step and gate as the strike zone.  If the pitch landed anywhere in there, it was a strike.

The pitcher set up shot in the middle of the street.  Anything hit on the ground was an out.  A ball that made it to the sidewalk across the street was a single.  If you hit the front porch of the house across the street, it was a double.  If you hit the front of the house, it was a triple.  If you roofed it, it was a homer and the game was over because we only usually had only one ball at a time.

AngelsAlthough I looked great in a baseball uniform, I was never a good hitter on the diamond.

Only on 77th St, when I dug into the batter’s box in front of my house, with my yellow plastic bat in hand, was I ever a hitting machine.

And could I pitch.  I really knew how to get that wiffle ball to move in all sorts of bizarre ways.  I felt like Gaylord Perry with all the movement I could get on my pitches.

Those were the days, Modern Philosophers.  How I miss being the Wiffle Ball King of Brooklyn…

About Austin

Native New Yorker who's fled to the quiet life in Maine. I write movies, root for the Yankees, and shovel lots of snow.
This entry was posted in Humor, Philosophy and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

17 Responses to Throwing It Back To The Wiffle Ball King Of Brooklyn

  1. NotAPunkRocker says:

    Great pictures! Love the first expression.

    I good at sports when my only opponent was my brother. Then he outgrew me, and that was that.

  2. stephrogers says:

    CUUUTEEE!!!!! Kids don’t really play baseball much in Australia, mostly soccer, nippers (surf lifesaving club for kids), swim squad and little athletics. I gather baseball is really big there. I love the kiddy pics, super cute

  3. My friend’s father used to tell me of his wondrous days spent playing stickball in the streets of Brooklyn. Every Christmas I always asked him to retell his holiday story. He’d say, “My brothers and I each received a few walnuts, an orange and a nickel in our sock – then we’d go outside and play stickball. There were no better Christmas mornings than those ones.”
    AnnMarie 🙂

  4. Louise says:

    stephroger in a way we do.. the rules are similar to beach cricket. you were so cute Austin then and now..:)

  5. Louise says:

    austin honestly can you flick me smiley face to my email I just want to send you a xmas card with out putting it into the public arena. please

  6. Louise says: otherwise check out my site…

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