Beyond bocce, the one summer activity I can recommend is an early afternoon game of wiffleball. Just over a week ago I joined a few friends in pursuit of this delightful sport. Taping up a plastic bat and trying to a hit a small, oddly flutterring ball as far as you can is incredibly fun.
Listmaker lets it go.
Jamie attempts to knock the ball past the trash can and into the fence in the outfield.
Erik put all of his might into a pitch, gearing up for a strikeout.
Jamie's swing is all Pep.
Hot Tub Eric tracks the flight of the ball.
Ezra goes for the clobber. His shorts give him the "best dressed" award.
Jamie swings like a professional. Without the duct tape, I wonder, how far does a wiffleball travel?
Seconds away from dropping to the ground, Hot Tub avoids one high and inside.
Recovered, he plans to knock one into the handball courts.
Chris gets ready to swing, knowing the strike zone is wider than a roll of tape. A Washington Nationals sweatshirt actually serves as the strike zone. While pitching, I managed to drop the wiffleball into one of the pockets. It was my greatest pitch of the afternoon. It's good that no one drafted me in an obscure fantasy wiffleball league. I had the most HR's allowed all day.
For more photos from the afternoon, check out Listmaker's collection.