Wiffle Ball Game

I’m playing in a wiffle ball game against the 4^th graders.  The rain is holding back and blue skies are sneaking around the grey clouds.  It’s just me vs. four 4^th graders in the church parking lot and I’m down 3-10 in the second inning.  I can only score three runs maximum per inning.  I’m crushing the ball.  One homerun I hit so hard the ball was dented and we had to get a new one.  My hits are flying over the trees, hitting branches and landing on tops of cars.   I come back to take the lead and I’m up by four runs.  But school is almost over and parents are starting to arrive and I’m pitching with no outs and runners on first and third.  I allowed that no one can strike out or else I’d strike them all out and they would cry and not want to play with me anymore, so my only option is to pitch the ball high enough and hope for a pop fly.  Instead a choppy ground ball sneaks by me and the runners score and the 4^th graders win and I’m pissed off.  And now I’m ranting about it here in this blog.