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Another round of tales from Elementary School era...
It's no secret that my husband and I are Detroit Tigers fans. I've always enjoyed baseball and the Toledo Mudhens' games were an excellent summertime activity. We got hooked early on playing what my parents call "mound ball"- it a game where everyone in your group begins with the same number of quarters as there are people in your group. Starting with the person on the left, each group member gets a turn every half inning when the order gets to them. At the end of the inning, if the player who last touched the ball tosses it toward the pitcher's mound and it actually lands on the mound (not rolls off the mound into the grass or the umpire tosses a new ball toward the mound) the person whose turn it is receives one quarter from every other member of the group. I loved it for the thrill of possibility and the angst of a ball barely missed. And the maniacal scheming of a 10 year old who tries to pass a nickel off as winnings to their nearest sibling. I should note that major league games now trade out the ball everytime a play is made since they have the moolah to do so, but your local minor league may still use the same ball between innings.
I also played softball as a kid. I spent the majority of my time swinging and missing and playing outfield. Not true. Hanging out in the outfield with my back to home plate, perfecting my pirouettes and tying strings of clover into chains and necklaces. Our coach tried to move me into the catcher's position to keep me more interested in the game, but I stunk, hated it and put in a request for a transfer back to left field.
I had a riveting sports career.