Andy Stockoff comes to play
Aaron and I are only 22 months apart, and we were both especially competitive growing up, so I guess it's normal that we would end up competing against each other. One of our favorite summer events growing up on Azusa Court was whiffle ball.
We would take turns batting from the grass next to the front door and pitching from the grass next to the sidewalk. I think we kept score: a single if you could bat it onto the street, a double if it reached the street without bouncing, a triple if it bounced to the other side of the street, and a home run if the ball reached the far sidewalk without bouncing. There were foul balls. Three strikes counted for an out. Three outs changed the sides. The score was never the point.
The focus was the pitching duel. Aaron was the master pitcher. He had one pitch that he would throw sidearm. It would sit on the grass all the way up to the plate and then at the last instant jump up into the strike zone. It wasn't that I couldn't hit it. It was more that I never tried. I was always convinced that it would eventually dive into the dirt, even though I must have seen it hundred of times.
One summer day, Aaron and I were out playing whiffle ball, and Brother Stockoff came over with Andy, his three-year-old son (maybe four?). Brother Stockoff had played American Legion ball, so we knew Andy would have already had his share of exposure to batting, so we let him in. We stepped up close to the plate and let him whack away at our pitches.
Time and time again, Andy would smack the ball way over our heads into the street. We were utterly amazed. Andy was some sort of baseball wizzard!! When Brother Stockoff was finished inside, he announced to Andy that it was time to go. We insisted that he watch his son perform this magic that we had discovered. Brother Stockoff watched as Andy again belted the ball with all his force. Calmy, he walked over to his son and said "Andy, you're left handed. You'll do better from the other side." He switched his son's hands, moved him to the other side of the plate, and sure enough, he was even better batting as a lefty, something Aaron and I weren't sure was possible.
Other Turlock memories:
- Brother Stockoff helps us start a Christmas tradition at Donnelley Park
- Modesto visits for a Cross Country meet at Donnelley
- the only Capture the Flag game anyone ever won
- 3am bagels
- Aaron and I not dying on our way back from the Perrett's
- hunting squirrells on the Perrett's land
Another story that needs to be told:
- Aaron as a campaign manager (Zwick for President!)
We would take turns batting from the grass next to the front door and pitching from the grass next to the sidewalk. I think we kept score: a single if you could bat it onto the street, a double if it reached the street without bouncing, a triple if it bounced to the other side of the street, and a home run if the ball reached the far sidewalk without bouncing. There were foul balls. Three strikes counted for an out. Three outs changed the sides. The score was never the point.
The focus was the pitching duel. Aaron was the master pitcher. He had one pitch that he would throw sidearm. It would sit on the grass all the way up to the plate and then at the last instant jump up into the strike zone. It wasn't that I couldn't hit it. It was more that I never tried. I was always convinced that it would eventually dive into the dirt, even though I must have seen it hundred of times.
One summer day, Aaron and I were out playing whiffle ball, and Brother Stockoff came over with Andy, his three-year-old son (maybe four?). Brother Stockoff had played American Legion ball, so we knew Andy would have already had his share of exposure to batting, so we let him in. We stepped up close to the plate and let him whack away at our pitches.
Time and time again, Andy would smack the ball way over our heads into the street. We were utterly amazed. Andy was some sort of baseball wizzard!! When Brother Stockoff was finished inside, he announced to Andy that it was time to go. We insisted that he watch his son perform this magic that we had discovered. Brother Stockoff watched as Andy again belted the ball with all his force. Calmy, he walked over to his son and said "Andy, you're left handed. You'll do better from the other side." He switched his son's hands, moved him to the other side of the plate, and sure enough, he was even better batting as a lefty, something Aaron and I weren't sure was possible.
Other Turlock memories:
- Brother Stockoff helps us start a Christmas tradition at Donnelley Park
- Modesto visits for a Cross Country meet at Donnelley
- the only Capture the Flag game anyone ever won
- 3am bagels
- Aaron and I not dying on our way back from the Perrett's
- hunting squirrells on the Perrett's land
Another story that needs to be told:
- Aaron as a campaign manager (Zwick for President!)
Labels: Turlock
posted by ronny at 22:07
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