Back in the good old days when Tim and I played on the same intramural softball team (I was the player/coach, Tim was the guy I had to bat fourth or he'd throw a tantrum*), Tim would boast about his power hitting and he looked the part: late 20s, 6' 8", big Wookie beard. And, give him credit, he swung for the fences every time.**
So I know that this story has got to be eating at his insides (Swinging ...):
Home runs are outs in this otherwise all-American Houston suburb about nine miles west of downtown, where encroaching development has upended one of the sport's most hallowed rules, even, for a time, getting home run hitters ejected from the batter's box.
*Joking; it must be Friday.
**Joking. He didn't swing for the fences all the time, just most times.
Off topic? Nah.
... when the love of green space and recreation ran headlong into property rights amid a homebuilding boom, something had to give.
For all the Coase lovers out there ... I'll say it for you: can't the parents of the window breaking longballers find a price the howeowners are willing to accept so Johnny*** can swing for the fences again?
If not, here is a bold prediction: the need for steriods in baseball will be nonexistent within 10 years. The game will be populated with a bunch of singles hitting, on base percentage obsessing, 5-9, 160 something, middle infield, good glove, move the baserunner over-ing, boring, boring, boring, fundamentals-playing players.
Shame. Like Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux know so well: Chicks dig the long ball (#10, expert panel).
***Actually, it is an adult softball league -- I took poetic license so that I could write something in the next paragraph that only I find amusing -- and there is a bit of Coasian bargaining taking place:
Still, it is all working out, said Ms. Dembski of Bellaire's park department, because of the cooperation of the league, which contributed $5,000 to the $16,000 cost of the new net and paid for the latest broken window.
Of course they were cooperative, said Dean Smith IV, the club's president. "We're Optimists. We take an optimistic look at everyone and everything."
A personal note, I played for the Optimists-sponsored little league team in the 6th grade. They thought we weren't any good, wouldn't make the playoffs and that they overpaid on the uniforms for a bunch of pampered, beanie-eating, prima donnas. Here is what my little sister overhead one game:
That Whitehead kid is a decent centerfielder, but he sure is a prima donna. And he needs a haircut, that Oscar Gamble style has got to be hurting his play. Did we buy uniforms for this bunch of pampered, beanie-eating, prima donnas?
After striking out on 3 pitches in the All*Star game, I never wore the stirrup socks again.
