First Field

Deenie sent these photos of First Field.

The original home field for McCurdy Wiffle Ball was at 75537 Dequindre in Romeo, MI. We had a full 3 acres there (mostly for our mowing pleasure) in the summer of ’73 and we decided to use the very back of the yard. There was a stone bench near home plate and actually base paths that had been worn into the grass from earlier games of kickball with the family.

We were well acquainted with making up games, usually consisting of trying to get some innocuous object past the other guy and into a basket or past a goal of some sort. Throwing wadded socks into a waste basket or batting a balloon through a door were early experiments, and now that I think of it, our brother Tony used to play those games with us when we all lived in Indiana. That was many years ago.

In 1973, we marched out to the back yard with a wiffle ball and bat, stood at the home plate area, and scratched our heads. We figured out pretty rapidly that the called balls and strikes was not going to work- there was, after all, just the two of us and no impartial arbiter to judge the quality of the pitches. Ok, no problem- only hits counted and in those first few days, we developed the game we play today.

Looking back, I marvel at the level of patience, maturity, and cooperation we displayed so that we could play so competitively and still have a friendly game. The rules had to be simple and we learned early on the importance of clearing up the details BEFORE we started playing. Every time we came across a situation we hadn’t encountered, we had a long and serious discussion on how it should be handled and we made sure that there was agreement before we commenced to play again.

We played for hours every day, stopping several times during every game to

Same field, but covered with fresh snow, probably taken in July 1973- South Carolina rocks!

discuss and clarify, and within a week, it was pretty much done. We had a structured game that was easy to play and most importantly, it was nearly impossible for Tim to cheat, try as he might.

When we were confident we had a great game, we explained the rules to Dad and invited him to play. After playing a couple of times with us, he said in amazement, “It’s impossible for Tim to cheat!” At dinner that night, we told the whole family about our great game (WAY too many sisters, by the way.) Mom and the sisters started peppering us with questions (“Can Tim cheat? How does he play if he can’t cheat? Are you sure Tim isn’t cheating somehow?”)

That probably wasn’t our best field but it’s held with the same reverence as that first peach basket nailed onto a post by Dr. James Naismith which in turn became the game of basketball, the difference being that Tim can, and does, cheat at basketball.