Tuesday, August 31, 2004
This time, I've sort of got another one for the zero people from Bremerton and surrounding environs that actually read us. This basically evolved from the Junior High field being mowed and the fact that Pendergast had their fields freshly dragged when I got there, so I didn't want to mess them up.
This took me to a place where my friends and I have hit baseballs many times, the northeast-facing field at West Hills Elementary, not far from Pendergast. Like the field at Pendergast, West Hills has a really cheap chip-shot power alley to leftcenter. Seriously, I was putting up some reeeeaaaaalllly crappy swings and having balls go over the fence. I guess a side note to myself would be to find out how far out these freakin' fences are, but I'm thinking probably 220 or something, who knows. I was 9-ironing them out of there, huge teardrop arc shots; it was brutal.
You may be wondering where the challenge is, like the post headline indicates. Well, it's kind of a time-intensive challenge. It doesn't have to do with distance (though if you hit five in a row out, you're my equal...aim for the hill). You have to get there before the grass gets mowed because THE GRASS IS SO THICK IT'S CRAZY. Seriously, they probably haven't mowed it in two months. There was no margin for error, I basically had to jack these baseballs over the fence where the grass was dry/brown/mowed because that was the easiest place to find them. If I had the misfortune to hit a grounder, it probably took me ten minutes to search for the ball. You could go to the outfield, take a baseball in your hand, drop the baseball, and clearly see that the height of the grass was higher than the diameter of the baseball. Pathetic. I could bitch more about it, but it's highly unlikely that I'll use that field in the near future.
Basically, the challenge is to hit six baseballs for 45 minutes, and to come out after that time having found all six of the baseballs. It's freaking hard. A fluorescent green softball that met the same unfound fate in leftfield will taunt you while you look for your baseballs.
I hate my life.