Day 176: The Easter Wiffle Ball Tradition

For almost every holiday growing up, I would be with my family. We would gather at home or at some relative’s house to celebrate and spend a day together. As people grow they sometimes grow apart. Holidays change. People change. Cousins and siblings get married and have the spouse’s relatives to visit as well. But for every major holiday (Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter), it seemed that we all made time for each other. I would head back home and we would be able to hang out, see a movie, and eat some delicious food. I love seeing my family as much as possible throughout the year, especially as we grow older and drift apart. But the one thing that bummed me out about holidays was that I was always away from some people that meant a lot to me: my friends. So one year I made the decision to not go home for Easter (it seemed like the least ranked of the three). I decided to stay on Mackinac Island, and we made a tradition of our own.

Being an avid baseball player growing up and a huge fan of wiffle ball, I had the idea for a few of us to put a game together. The boss was already gathering the staff and a few other locals for a feast and a few drinks. We didn’t just want to sit around all day, drinking too much and eating too much. We wanted to drink too much and eat too much and play a game together. We were an island family, after all. So that started the tradition of the Easter Wiffle Ball game.

The first year, we used cardboard for the bases. We quickly realized that cardboard on top of the sand that was leftover from melting the ice in the winter was a bad idea. People flying around third base nearly twisted their ankle and broke their hip. So we drew chalk bases. Home plate was on the hill of Astor Street and a home run was off the roof of Joan’s Fudge. We learned the hard way to cover up the gutters in the street.

But with practice came more mediocrity. The teams varied each year. There were two captains that picked teams gym class style. One year, we did boys against the girls. We invented baseball half-time and pee break, along with the art of playing with various bats and balls. The first year we damaged the ball so bad we couldn't play with it. One year we forgot to get a bat and lost track of the previous year’s. So I woke up early that Easter, walked out to the woods, and found us a nice branch. It worked just as well as any other bat.

The adjacent buildings added a level of difficulty in the overall experience because most of us were right-handed and tended to pull the ball. For you non-baseball fans, that means that we swung too early and hit the ball to foul territory way to the left on top of a two-story building. That dilemma only ended one game short, luckily. We found ways to curb the problem of losing balls. One was covering the gutters, as I mentioned, another was buying more balls (duh), and the last was getting on the roof during a TV timeout to get the ball. Don’t worry, we had permission.

We made it to the paper one year. It was our five minutes of fame. One year it got rained out. Another year, the snow was still about a foot deep and the roads were covered in slush. And now this year, there is no game because everyone is at home. But every year that we can, the wiffle ball tradition has been kept alive outside of the Mustang Lounge on Mackinac Island. I believe it was 2011 when it began. And I think every year after this we will try to keep the tradition alive.

Many of us didn’t have our traditional families to go to during Easter. But we made a family of our own. It is our own little Road-lot, filled with sand, snow, and a lot of horse crap. I look forward to seeing my Mackinac Family again soon. And I look forward to next year when we’ll have to make it a double-header. Cheers!

Happy Easter everyone!