By David Fortier

I stopped by Shannon’s Jewelers last week with a flier and sponsorship form for the Geoff Pierce Memorial Wiffle Ball Tournament. Full disclosure my son, Greg, and his friends set up the tournament to promote opioid awareness in Geoff’s name. Geoff was a friend who succumbed to an overdose, and his friends wanted to do something.

Geoff loved baseball. Since Geoff was an alum of the Bristol Eastern High School program and American League baseball, a wiffle ball tournament to raise funds seemed like a natural fit. The tournament has been so successful over the past couple of years that the group has been able to reach their goal of setting up a fund in Geoff’s name with the Main Street Foundation.

This year the tournament is being held Saturday, Sept. 15 at Page Park. Those interested in signing up teams can learn more here. The same for sponsors.

At Shannon’s, the person I talked to, of course, is Scott Fournier, whom I found out is a wiffle ball aficionado. Yes, he was kind enough to help out the cause, but he was also drawn down memory lane, recalling wiffle ball contests past. In particular, Scott recalled the contests in Mark Soucy’s yard. I think Scott said the yard resembled Wrigley Field, with a hedge for the outfield wall, and it became more elaborate with the help of Mark’s dad, who installed lights.

It was nothing for Scott and his brothers to walk from his home to Prospect St. and back, unaccompanied by an adult, for those monumental contests. Scott added, it was nothing then to walk to from his home to Page Park and spend the day swimming at the pool, lines to get in sometimes winding up the walk to the parking lot or around the pool. And the best day was when he could scrounge up a few extra cents from bottle returns to buy a frozen Zero bar.

And, he added, it was nothing for the same bunch to walk to Muzzy Field to watch a ball game, again unaccompanied by an adult.

Of course the conversation wound back to wiffle ball and the actual ball, with its holes that could be employed to make the ball rise or fall, curve in or out, when flipped from a practiced hand. It was a time, and I can attest to this from the hundreds of hours playing the game in my neighborhood, when wiffle ball and a game of home run derby ruled. I think that their is a name for that time, too. For us it was called childhood.

Readers, anyone have stories about wiffle ball that he or she would like to share. Send them along in the comment box. Otherwise, if anyone is interested in giving wiffle ball a shot and, at the same time, supporting a good cause, check out the wiffle ball tournament in Geoff’s memory. Deadline to sign up is August 10.