Wiffleball Wednesdays

2009-04-30T21:07:00.005-04:00

Brian Furness wound up and fired the Wiffle Ball toward home plate, leaving Donny Irving spinning in circles and swinging too hard for a pitch that was too fast.

That’s the story for almost every batter who steps to the plate against Furness, a Cornerstone University sophomore, as he blazes fastballs past timid batters during Wiffleball Wednesdays.

Some batters blink. Others jump back thinking the pitch will hit them, only to see it drop into the strike zone. And many look foolish after chasing pitches outside of the strike zone with ridiculous swings.

That’s the case almost every Wednesday when Furness takes the mound and seems to dominate every pitch of every inning. He’s on a different level than everyone else when it comes to pitching a Wiffle Ball.

“Some of the pitchers are pretty good,” senior Matt Ward said. “It’s surprising actually how fast they can throw. It’s a lot harder than a regular baseball. It’s less predictable. The wind will take it more, and just because of the holes in the ball it’s a lot more conducive to spinning or wobbling around.

“Some of the pitchers throw sidearm and it will drift upwards or to the side. A lot of times the pitches will sink really quick at the end too, so it’s hard. You got to see how they’re throwing it.”
But that doesn’t stop other Wiffle Ball players from playing and enjoying themselves.

“It’s a lot of fun,” Ward added.

Wiffleball Wednesdays started this spring when several students realized how much they missed baseball. Cornerstone doesn’t have a varsity team for them to try out for and watching the Detroit Tigers wasn’t enough. So Wiffle Ball was the next best option.

“I wanted to do something that was related to baseball,” sophomore co-founder Darren Bennett said. “I thought it would be fun to get a whole bunch of people together and just have fun playing some Wiffle Ball and the community aspect.”

The league has grown from five to as many as 20 players at some points this season.
“The best part is the people who have been showing up and good, clean fun,” Bennett said.

Clean, and competitive.

Junior Kyle Cohen is one batter who’s had mild success against Furness, including a game-winning homerun against him early in the season.

“I feel like I’m from the Major League Baseball, and every time I go up to bat I do the Manny (Ramirez) approach,” he said. “My favorite homerun was my first one, because I’ve never really had a bunch of people to play with in Wiffle Ball. (When I hit that walk-off homerun) I thought I was the man.”

Cohen is also the league’s second-leading pitcher. While he doesn’t have Furness’ speed, Cohen has mastered the craft of pitching a Wiffle Ball and controls a variety of pitches, including a fastball, splitfinger and slider.

“If you can take advantage of the wind and still throw strikes, then you’re really good,” he said.
While yesterday was the last Wiffleball Wednesday of the spring, the players expect to have a stronger league running next fall when they return for school.

“Wiffleball Wednesdays…is a hit!” Dave Murdoch said, associate dean of leadership development.

Wiffle Ball and Faith, Life Lessons with Dave Murray

2009-04-30T20:57:00.003-04:00

BY DAVE MURRAY, Of The Grand Rapids Press
Education writer

The Wiffle Ball is a glorious toy, to be sure. I keep one on my desk as reminder.

For the unaware, Wiffle Balls are plastic baseballs with eight oblong holes on one side that allow anyone to break off nasty curve balls.

On one of my first days as a real, full-time reporter, I passed a small factory on Bridgeport Ave., in Shelton, Conn., with the Wiffle Ball sign in front. A magnificent discovery.

The epicenter of all things Wiffle was right there, down the street from the suburban bureau I was calling home.

And the factory existed in relative secrecy, too. I could never understand why signs at the city limits didn’t read, “Welcome to Shelton, home of the Wiffle Ball.”

The plastic spheres were an essential part of my youth. There aren’t too many places to do more than play catch with a real baseball in suburban New York, where I grew up.

But we could take full hacks at a Wiffle Ball anywhere in our small yards without fear of injury to person or property.

And the male contingent of the Valley Bureau took our Wiffle Ball seriously. We even mounted a poster for a community production of “Romeo and Juliet” on a back wall just low enough to serve as a strike zone.

Since I covered Shelton planning and zoning, I immediately started plotting for any excuse to write about the factory. I eventually placed the call and secured my invitation.

I was greeted by David Mullany, grandson of the inventor, who gave me a quick tour of the machines that pump white plastic into molds. The yellow bats and cardboard packaging were made somewhere else and shipped to Shelton.

I then dropped the burning question: What makes a Wiffle Ball curve?
And I couldn’t believe the answer: “We have no idea.”

David told me how his father, also named David, and his brother would play baseball with plastic practice golf balls and broomsticks in their backyard.

The boys were trying to break off deuces (curveballs) all day, and the grandfather — he, too, was named David — was once a semi-pro pitcher and worried the boys would hurt their young arms.

So he bought a bunch of the plastic golf balls, sat down at the kitchen table with a steak knife and started cutting patterns into the balls.

For some reason, and the family doesn’t know why, the version with the eight ovals on one side easily curved. Hold a ball so the ovals are on the right, ball curves right. Ovals on the left and you can guess what happens.

I think about the story of the Wiffle Ball when I ponder some of life’s big mysteries.

The Mullany family built their business on a product without knowing how it worked, but accepted that it just did and always would. Blind faith.

And we can’t explain why some things happen. They just do.

And so we must remember that God is in control, not us.

Accept that curves in life are coming for reasons we can’t — or aren’t meant to — understand.

I shared this story with students in my journalism class. I wanted to show them an example of the interesting people we get to meet as reporters, but also about placing our trust in the Creator whose timing and methods we don’t always understand.

I gave each of them a Wiffle Ball, too, as a reminder.