Save the Fat Bat For When You Need It

Great little article in the PD this morning about a much beloved place in my hometown of Medina. As a kid, there was nothing like a big back yard; where you could step out baselines and measure up a diamond for a hard-nosed wiffle ball game. It was (and probably remains) every little leaguer's dream to build their very own 'field of dreams' (overused, I know, but so apt!).

Typically, this fantasy ends when: A. Mom gets home and is irate that you have pulled all manner of junk out of the garage and have now festooned it around the back yard in the general approximation of an outfield wall. Or B., the size isn't right, there's a tree planted just in the way of second, and the kids grow up before it ever gets built. Enter Jim McDermott. In 1986, he and his young family moved to Medina, a few blocks south of the St. Francis Church, and promptly became the most popular family in the neighborhood with construction of their very own wiffle ball field. I mean a full-time, Medina Monster in left, scoreboard on the wall, fence lined, honest-to-God wiffleball mecca.
Katie and I have enjoyed more than a few Memorial and Labor Day's basking in the summer sun and diving erratically for wind whipped wiffleballs; laughing off scrapes and bruises, but celebrating, really celebrating, when our team won. In the article, Jim mentions the record year of 18 five inning games played on a single day. I have to say I'm proud to have played in at least 5 of those that day. Kids, adults, everyone's in on the fun, but the level of competition is always high; those who are playing are in it to win it. One thing that still rankles me is that though I've banged more than one double off the netting in left, I've still yet to knock one out. One of these days...

And Dave, who has been written of previously in this space, deserves a mention on this Memorial Day as well. Though not military personnel, he serves this country through good will and diplomacy in the Peace Corps. Here's looking forward to a homecoming game... and homer number one...

Dick Goddard Is A Danger To Society

At least when he's behind the wheel.. We found out the hard way a week ago Saturday, when attempting to pull out of the Buehler's parking lot in Medina. Positioned second behind a large SUV waiting to pull onto Forest Meadows, the SUV hit the gas, thought better of it (for a reason incomprehensible to me), slammed on the brakes, and threw the behemoth into reverse, completely failing to notice our Toyota directly behind him. I threw the stick into reverse and slammed the gas, barely averting an accident. I laid on the horn and shook my fist at the still unknown perpetrator.

So, traffic clears again, and again, the SUV pulls forward into the street. In a bizarrely carbon copy moment, he AGAIN throws on the brakes and punches it into reverse. This time, clearly not expecting the same thing to happen, I'm not quick enough to react and WHAM. I hop out of the car, incredulous and angry. And who should lumber out from behind the steering wheel but Dick Goddard, the wooly bear weatherman himself.

Blindsided by this development, my anger is gone, replaced by a sort of surreal curiosity like, is this really happening? After the obligatory review of the damage and an apology from Dick for (obviously and incomprehendingly) not seeing our vehicle (TWICE); he heads back to his car for the apparently treacherous ride home.

But here's the kicker; in his legendary sing-song broadcast voice, he turns as he's walking away and says: "Well, (gesturing to himself) I'm Dick Goddard so you know where to find me."

Weird.

The Grim Reaper, waiting for the casualties Dick Goddard inevitably inflicts on his drive home.

Laugh at Yourself

Self-deprecation is important, as long as others don't take it too seriously...


UPDATE: 5/11/09 - Cleveland Tourism Bureau counters viral video with contest.