Since last Wednesday's column on the wonders of all-too-rare, just-show-up/pickup baseball, I've been receiving notes from readers about some cool stuff that happens in their neighborhoods. Here's a good story from Cathy Badmington, from the Hampton neighborhood in Baltimore County.

The kids in our (Hampton/Towson) neighborhood had been playing Wiffle Ball in our
backyard for quite a while.   Exactly two years ago it all took a
serious turn...

I returned home one May Saturday afternoon to find that my husband and
sons had spent the greater part of a day constructing, painting and
erecting a foul pole in our backyard...actually in my garden.  Home
plate and bases were in place, the base paths "mowed" into the grass,
and crisp, straight(ish), foul lines painted.  I suspected that a new
chapter in backyard Wiffle Ball had begun...

Last year they made it official and began a league - five teams of two
boys each ages 12 to 20.  With myriad jobs and other commitments they
depended on cell phones to do quick calling to grab games when they
could.  I would arrive home to bikes thrown on the grass and know that
a game was underway.  One of the handier dads (who doesn't live at
this house) came one night and, with a Heineken as down payment, mounted
lights in the tree.  With the addition of a set of construction lights
they could now have real live night games.  Our poor, poor neighbors.

It was an amazing summer of endless Wiffle Ball.  Some weekend nights
spontaneous cookouts broke out which meant the "growns" joined in for
casual Wiffle Ball - or we simply watched the competition. 

Men of a certain age swooned when they came to our house to take prom
pictures (Loch Raven HS '08) -- our 17-year-old daughter got it that a
Wiffle Ball field in our backyard played well among the prom dates.

They argued, negotiated, fumed, cheered, jeered, struck out, homered,
and hammered out a whole catalog of home-field rules throughout the
summer.

And now, with a few improvements (second foul pole, a 7-foot "fence"
made of clothesline and deer netting) the second official season is
underway.  One player moonlights as a Calvert Hall lacrosse player. 
When my son texted his condolences following the Hall's brutal loss in finals
he responded, "No problem, Wiffle Ball season starts tomorrow!"

It is kids at their best.  They make the rules.  They build the
stuff.  They make sure the water jug is full and the drivers among
them occasionally make a Gatorade/sunflower seed run.  They keep
statistics.

It's a blast.  Simple joys.  And decidedly un-parented, if not entirely
unorganized sports. Join us anytime...just call ahead to see if there's a game on.
Heineken's on us.

The Badmingtons
Cathy, Rich, Casey, Tim and Brady