Eric's first year in little league, the fathers took turns umpiring behind the plate. During my stint, I had no choice but to ring up a number of players who wouldn't take the bat off their shoulders, including my own son. On the way home, Eric complained how I could do such a thing, especially to him. "If the pitch is over the plate...SWING THE BAT !" I responded. He just grumbled and stared out the window. A week later, on my way home from work, I stopped by his game to watch him play. I had just taken delivery on a brand new company car, and parked on the side of the street adjacent to the infield. I watched through the windshield as Eric strode up to the plate, bat in hand. He looked over at me and grinned, taking his place in the batters box. He ripped at the first pitch and lined a foul ball smack dab in my direction. The ball struck the front end of my sparkling new Chevy with a thud.....leaving a nice dent in the fender. After the game he walked over to me as I was checking out the damage. "Don't blame me... YOU told me to swing the bat!." he said, laughing. (I still bought him an ice cream !) -Joe Perkins |
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Stories and Memories >
Chevy...Unlike a rockposted Nov 25, 2008 1:06 PM by Matt Perkins [ updated Nov 25, 2008 1:08 PM ] |