Big League WIFFLE Ball News

Watch TBS Video

Turner Broadcasting System, Inc. has called Sean Steffy (aka WIFFLEBOY28) “idiot of the week.” How do you feel about this?

Here is a retro glimpse of the original Little Fenway Park venue that was used for WIFFLE Ball.  At  Little Fenway is where they held the National Championship. Location: Waltham, Massachusetts. This photo was taken somewhere between 1989-93

Mini Fenway Park-Wiffleball Stadium

The National Championship tournament that evolved from a neighborhood tournament in Massachusetts, started in the early 1970′s, comprised of as little as 4 or 6 teams. By the late 1980′s it was a 20 team tournament with teams from around the country. The game back then was basically the same as it is today, except there was an umpire calling balls and strikes instead of throwing at a portable strike-zone.

“This is a picture of the green monster portion of the main field of the National Championship in Waltham, Mass. from 1989-1993. It was featured in Sports Illustrated in 1989 which started my career in Wiffle Ball. Came with its own citco sign.” -Fred Bastedo, New Jersey

It was still too early for the internet and that feature in Sports Illustrated helped pave the way for future WIFFLE Ball leagues, tournaments, little and mini back-yard stadiums across America.

Fred Bastedo in Las Vegas, showing visible blood stains from an earlier dive for a home-run ball.

By Mack Dreyfuss

A friend of mine sat down on the stool next to me at our diner. He sighed the kind of sigh that is only born of a raw soul. A soul that instead of being enlightened and lifted by the holidays was crushed center mass by the proverbial holiday 2 by 4. Make that a 2 by 6.

“Thank God it’s over,” he said.

“Coffee?” Bernice asked.

“Oh yeah.”

I sipped my own coffee and stared at the 70’s era 7-Up clock on the wall. I wasn’t ready to read the newspaper yet. It was 4:30am. Back to our routine. Our comfortable, satisfying, rhythmic routine.

It was ironic my friend thanked God for an end to the celebration of human redemption. I could barely allow myself to think through the last two weeks’ events. They came to me in flashes while my mind begged my soul for balance. The bursts of flashing memory brought clashes of interpersonal perfection concepts, racking laughter, sickening food binges by well-intentioned familial bakers, near-arguments resulting in backroom rants, deep breaths and drive-ons, gulps after glancing at bank statements, a lack of exercise, an endless cramming of boxes into already packed cars, and the screaming of over-stimulated children into the ears of over-stimulated parents. I needed a holiday from the holidays.

I hungered for something holy in all of this minute-slaughtering minutia. My friend and I barely said a word to each other. We both needed the quiet. The drone of the sports scores on the mini-television in the corner and the clack of a fork, through eggs, against the porcelain plate were all we needed.

“Pie?” Bernice asked.

I shook my head no.

There was ice under that snow. If I was going to remain upright, I was going to need all my strength. I left Bernice a tip and stepped toward my car. I felt the kindling excitement to go back to work, to make better plans, and to be more disciplined this year. In the end, we are responsible for ourselves.

Dallas Mall’s Jersey

Make sure to Check “Goose” Youtube Page and Subscribe

5th & 6th Graders from Baldwin Middle School in Guilford, CT.

Sent in from Decaf. The list price was .49 cents per ball…Remnants of LA wiff in ’77

RISER

Check out more action at WIFFLEBOY28.COM