Pitchback 101

Around the age of 8 or 9 my parents and I lived in a small subdivision in Woodbridge Virgina called 'Twin Cedars".  The name was cleverly chosen from the two cedar trees greeting residents at the neighborhood's entrance.  Looking back, the trees looked nothing like twins at all and I'm not even sure they were Cedars (then again, the recollections of my 9th year are probably a little foggy).  A more appropriate name would have been "Quad Barrels Subdivision", since my most vivid memory of the entrance is the perpetual existence of those orange and white striped barrels you see near road construction.  OK, enough of my rambling, on to the story.....(Kelly, bear with me...lol)

As with any 9'ish year old, I loved sports and wanted to be the next great baseball or football player.  To that end, my parents were cool enough to buy me one of the "Pitchback" devices at which you throw a baseball and it kindly returns the favor to the "pitcher" (at least in theory).   Having something to do in the backyard by myself was a godsend for an only child living in a neighborhood known more for its fraternal trees than its stable of baseball throwing 7 - 10 year old boys

The instructions on the box read something like; "Throw ball directly at the red target for the most accurate pitchbacks......".  At this point I had to question the premise of this thing's existence.  I wanted to learn to play baseball in real games.  I mean, wasn't the point of being on a 'team" the fact that we could lift each other up and account for small degrees of variances in our performance.  Was it not the job of the person catching the ball to move a little to the left or right if my release was 1 degree off dead center?  It adds a little excitement for everyone not knowing precisely where the ball is going to come.  Right? ......Ummmm....No!

So there I go, aiming at the red box and throwing what feels like perfect pitches only to have them fly in God-Only-Knows-Where directions.   My mom would come out and ask how things were going and I would try to convince her that the one they got MUST be broken.  To prove it, I would lumber to my throwing distance, turn around, and let fly a throw that ended up sailing into the neighbors yard.  As most loving mothers would do when their child is struggling, she told me she agreed, and that I WAS a better thrower than that, and to come in and have some Tang.

That validation and thirst quencher gave me the boost I needed to throw some more and maybe try to "fix" the now confirmed broken device.  And then, something magical would happen about every umpteenth throw.  The pitchback would take a break from being bitchy and return to the ball to me in what seemed like an effortless exchange between two totally in-sync minds.  It was a thing of beauty............................

As time has past and I've realized that there were some life lessons learned from those hours in the backyard with my new found teacher - Here are a few..................

• We truly do get "back" from life, what we "pitch". Just like the ball went way over my head when I got angry to prove my point to mom, life will always kick your ass when you do things from anger, resentment, or pain.


• It takes practice and experience to realize that losing your balls can come about from being lazy or being too aggressive.  It can be a lazy pitch that bounces perpetually down the driveway, or a hard pitch that flies too deep into those woods that scare the hell out of you; either way - you are minus ONE ball........


• That pitch that results in that perfect return IS worth the failures we endure to get there. Those moments of clarity taught in an instant, would never come about if not for all the throws that ended up in the ditch, in the woods, or in the neighbor's yard.  Keep trying.  Keep Playing.


• The ONLY place you'll get Tang after being upset and whiny is at your Mother's.  The real word doesn't work that way!