“It’s a full count here in the bottom of the ninth. With two outs, the bases are loaded and the home team is down by three. The crowd is on its feet screaming for their hero.” Crack! “It’s a deep drive to right…and it’s…off the bird feeder. Ground rule double, it only scores two runs! It would have been a grand slam if he put it anywhere else! He must be so disappointed.”

That was a true story recorded from me and my brothers playing whiffle ball in our back yard growing up. Our deck made for the perfect home run fence in right field, except for the tree and bird feeder that would block the occasional home run. Every time we played it was of course Wrigley Field and it was the World Series in front of a sellout crowd! Without a catcher, and a very limited number of balls, we had to step out of dream land back into reality every couple minutes to round up all the balls and sometimes replace third base because someone stepped on it the wrong way and smashed it again (most of the bases were Frisbees).

The worst part of the backyard growing up was the wood fence behind home plate. While the fence was great for stopping passed balls, anytime there was a foul it was going over and someone had to run around to go get it. I’m sure everyone had their own ground rules, but it seemed like there were so many trees in our yard, there was always the possibility of a fluke out or fair ball. More than once I stomped off the field furious because a bad bounce cost me the game.

As annoying as it was to be reminded that we were not playing at Wrigley Field in front of 40,000 Cubs fans singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” I think there is an important thing to be gained from having to stop and shag all the balls or other items of whatever game you play with your friends in the yard or park growing up. In fact, there are two purposes that it serves. It keeps you humble, and it builds a sense of camaraderie because you all have to work together to find a way to keep the game moving along at the fastest pace.

It is hard to be arrogant or haughty when you are tracking down all the foul balls that were hit over the fence, or when you are digging in the garage for a new third base. The unusual set up of the field meant that the game was never out of reach. There were 15 plus run innings in our whiffle ball games, so you couldn’t afford to get cocky. Out in the park we would play Frisbee, football, soccer, and kickball and it was the same. You always had to be careful or you would end up on the losing side of an amazing comeback. It was a hard lesson everyone in my neighborhood learned at one point or another.

Setting up and taking down the field of play always took a little time and effort. Sometimes the park had lines from a soccer field which we could adapt to whatever game we played, but mostly we created our own boundaries and ground rules. The time spent chasing down stray equipment created a sense of unity among all the players. It’s just as important toward building team spirit as actually participating in the game itself. Dealing with all the little frustrating, annoying things that constantly reminded us we weren’t the pros we pretended to be, made everyone out there earn their spot on our neighborhood “roster.”

Today, as a senior in college, I play pick-up soccer several times a week with anyone willing to come out. We have a pretty good group of regulars, but we only have a few balls among all of us. We spend a lot of time taking breaks to chase them down before the next play and the feeling is the same. Everyone knows the unofficial rule that you chase your own miss, and when we all abide by it, it builds the unofficial rules of pick-up soccer here.

I look back over a long career of backyard sports and pick-up games and I am thankful for all the times we had to stop for a minute to gather the equipment before we could go back to pretending we were professionals.