Published September 28, 2003
Wiff of
history
With Wiffle
ball, 50 years just whizzes by
William Hageman, Tribune staff reporter
Somewhere out there right now, there's a Wiffle ball game going on.
Being played by adults.
Very
possibly in matching T-shirts.
Listen carefully and you can almost hear that sound--"thonk!"--of
plastic on plastic.
Wiffle ball, the kids' game played at picnics and in driveways, is celebrating
its 50th anniversary this year. Its current popularity can't be called a resurgence
because, really, it never went away.
"We've been playing since we were kids," says 31-year-old Jim Galvan
of Steger, who's in a league in Highland, Ind., and who competes in several
tournaments a year. "I started when I was 4. We played in [a Little League
coach's] back yard. When we got bigger we went to the front yards and
driveways."
"I've been doing this for so long," says his brother, John, 33, of
Schererville, Ind. "It's a tradition for me. I have to play every Easter.
That's when we start our season. It's kind of like the Lions and Cowboys
playing [football] on Thanksgiving."
On a beautiful late summer evening, the Galvans and teammates Dave Kale and
Cesar Hernandez are playing two games in a softball field in Highland. The
field is chalked off with lines that determine whether a hit is a single,
double, triple or home run. There is no catcher, no base-running. Players keep
track of the score and the ball-and-strike count. It's as low-key as baseball
gets.
Because only three men take the field at a time--a pitcher and two
fielders--John sits in a lawn chair awaiting his turn at bat. That gives him
time to tell stories and critique his teammates.
"We went to a tournament last year, and it was two-on-two," he says.
"So Dave and I were on one team and Jim and Cesar were on the other. We
ended up meeting in the final, and we beat them. I got a grand slam off Jim.
Put that in the paper."
"What an ass," Jim counters as he steps to the plate.
"It was a good ride home. For me," John says, enjoying the memory one
more time.
Tournaments--and laughs--are a big part of the Wiffle world. The national
championship, pitting teams from nine regions around the country, is scheduled
for Columbus Day weekend in Austin, Texas.
Colorful tournaments
In the Midwest
every year, the big tourneys include the Enrico Palatzo in Sycamore, Ill.
(named, of course, for the character who was supposed to sing the national
anthem in the film "The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad!"),
the Fat Bastard and Wifflehouse events in Michigan, the Summer Wiffle Slam in
Iowa and the World Whiffleball Championship in Mishawaka, Indiana, a 64-team
extravaganza.
"In the Indiana tournament, you run the bases," said Jim Tumpane of
Lombard, who plays each summer with his three adult sons. "You play two in
the outfield, a pitcher and a catcher. So it's a little more real
baseball."
Wiffle ball is nothing if not flexible. Rules can vary among leagues and
tournaments. At the 16-team BYWASO (Bring Your Weak Ass S--- On) tourney in
September in Sycamore, a few miles northeast of DeKalb, early round games were
just two innings apiece, and batters started with a one-strike count against
them. Sometimes a two-man team must split pitching duties. Some leagues mandate
the thin yellow plastic bats while others allow plastic, wood, wood-and-plastic
or aluminum bats. Yes, aluminum Wiffle bats.
Even the physical layouts of the fields can be different. Some are
diamond-shaped; others look more like a slice of pie. Still others look like
driveways. Because they are.
On its Web page, the Windy City Wiffle Ball League (http://wcwbl.tripod.com),
of which the Galvans are members, has a category for "Fields." Click
on it and you get views of various driveways, each with its own idiosyncrasies.
Holy Grounds Field, for example, is "across the street from a church [and]
games are often played around services, funerals, baptisms and weddings."
At his home field, John Galvan says, "a ground ball past the pitcher or a
popup that falls in the street before the curb across the street, that's a
single. A popup onto the parkway across the street, that's a double. If the
ball hits the sidewalk across the street, that's a triple. Anything past the
sidewalk is a home run."
Just like when they were kids. And that's a big part of the attraction for guys
in their 20s, 30s and 40s who play Wiffle ball.
Youthful memories
"It's a childhood game," says Joe Trybus of Schaumburg. "We all
grew up playing lob ball or Wiffle ball every day."
These days he plays "maybe three times a year. And maybe once in a while
in the back yard with a couple of friends."
One of his regular stops is Sycamore, where he plays in both tournaments run by
a friend, Trevor Collie. And Collie knows how to run a tournament. At the
BYWASO, there was donated food and coolers of pop, water and beer, a grill was
cranked up, the pool and a slip-and-slide were set up for kids, and everyone on
the 16 two-man teams got a plaque. The four fields--dubbed Tiger Stadium, Three
Rivers Stadium, County Stadium and Candlestick Park after now-gone
ballparks--were chalked out and immaculate for the daylong event. No wonder
BYWASO keeps growing.
"This started on a tennis court," says Jeff Nawrocki of Elgin, a
friend of Collie's. "Basically we just zip-tied an old cardboard box to
the fence [as a strike zone]. It started one-on-one, then went to two-on-two.
It's changed a lot.
"We started as all just friends. Then Trevor went to some Web sites and
talked to different people and got them from all different places. Now we're
getting guys from Michigan."
The Web
Dave Ringler, the founder of the Fat Bastard and president of the Michigan
Wiffleball Alliance, says that publicity about Wiffle's 50th anniversary has
helped, as has the fact that players are now adults who have the resources, and
organizational skills, to get publicity. Also raising awareness is a new Wiffle
Ball Hall of Fame (www.candystand.com/wiffle/). But above all, he points to the
Internet."We started playing, and we had no idea there were other like-minded
idiots out there," Ringler says. "And we found some folks on the
Internet."
"The Internet really has brought people together," agrees Bruce
Chrystie. "When I first got on line in 1998, you'd do a Wiffle ball search
on Google and you'd get 2,500 hits. My God, now, it's probably 25,000 hits.
It's absolutely huge."
Chrystie is the co-founder of Fast Plastic (www.fastplastic.net/), the
Massachusetts-based Wiffle ball organization that is putting on this year's
national tournament.
The lure of Wiffle ball
The first national, two years ago, drew teams from two regions. Last year's had
four regions represented. This year it's nine. Next year he's hoping for 17 to
20, with a $20,000 top prize.
Money, though, is the last thing most of these guys care about.
It's the camaraderie, everyone says.
"We had a group of friends," Ringler says, "and we were trying
to find something to do at the end of the year to finish up our softball
season. Just kind of as a joke I said, let's have a Fat Bastard Wiffle ball
tournament. Because we all played Wiffle ball as kids--we all would imitate our
favorite players and switch hit and hit it over the fence for a homer, you
know?"
His tourney is now the largest in Michigan, with 20 teams from four states and
close to 200 spectators attending the event, which benefits local charities.
"Mine is more goofy and fun," he says. "We have a couple girls
teams, we have a couple of people talking about husband-wife teams [next year].
We play with our friends. We try to make it more fun."
That seems to be a big Wiffle ball selling point.
"I like the way we play," Nawrocki says of the Sycamore events.
"In some leagues, you've got guys who are real competitive. They're
constantly learning new pitches, things like that. For us, it's fun. You come
out, hang out. You enjoy yourself."
"One of the things that makes this nice," Ringler says, "is
unlike sports like organized softball and some of these things that get so
ego-driven and you get a lot of, for lack of a better word, [jerks], this is
something that people really know it's for fun. It's a plastic bat and ball.
People know it's fun and it's goofy. And there's no big money in it; people
play because they enjoy it. They don't play to win $10,000."
-- W.H.
See
also:
Baseball vs. Wiffle ball
Sound -- Baseball: Bat cracks; Wiffle: Bat "thonks".
Adjustments -- Baseball: Cork makes bats lighter; Wiffle: Duct tape makes bats
heavier.
Pain factor -- Baseball: Get hit by a pitch, you could end up in the hospital;
Wiffle: Get hit by a pitch, you might not realize it.
Priorities -- Baseball: Players drink Gatorade between innings; Wiffle: Players
drink beer. Before games.
Copyright © 2003, Chicago Tribune