Game On!
On May 26, I shared a post on Accessiversity Labs’ Facebook page about some cutting-edge technology being developed for bionic eyes. The article describes this technological breakthrough as, “The world’s first 3D artificial eyeball, capable of outperforming the human eye in some ways.” It goes on to predict that it “may help droves of people who are partially or fully blind in as little as five years, according to experts.”
When I read this, I of course jumped right to what the implications of this could mean for me, and immediately started thinking about the first thing I would do if I were to get my sight back.
The answer?
Wiffle Ball. Photo courtesy of Amazon.
Now I realize that this probably sounds strange to most people. Why would a middle-aged man well past the prime of his life instinctively choose a child’s game as the one thing he looks forward to most when confronted with the possibility of regaining his sight? Perhaps it’s a bit of childhood nostalgia. Maybe it’s because it’s one of the few things that I was ever really good at. As it turns out, it’s just because Wiffle Ball represents some of the most fun that I’ve ever had in my life. It’s something that I miss. Being blind, it’s one of those things that, unfortunately, I am no longer able to enjoy.
Perhaps I should start by explaining how good of a Wiffle Ball player I was. Maybe that would help to clear things up for you.
We played so much Wiffle Ball growing up, that I was practically best friends with Rick Sutcliffe and Jim Palmer. For those of you who are not familiar with the sport, they are the professional baseball players whose images graced the side of the cardboard box that the official Wiffle Ball came in.
You wouldn’t know it now, but back then, I had great hand-eye coordination, which made me a better than average hitter. Francis Fine Park, our home field that we named after the guy who originally developed the Huntley Square subdivision where we grew up, had more room on the right side of the infield because of where the pitcher’s mound and batter’s box were situated in relation to the surrounding houses. Consequently, this made it a hitter’s friendly park for left-handed batters, or people like me who have a naturally closed stance, which allowed me more opportunity to wait on the pitcher’s delivery to the plate and stroke the ball over in that direction.
Now, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression that I was only a finesse hitter. On the contrary, I led the Huntley Square League in homeruns for a number of consecutive years. I was never comfortable playing baseball – I was a frail kid who struggled to handle most aluminum or wood bats, and I could never get over the fear of getting hit with a baseball, or taking a grounder in the chest. Wiffle Ball, however, was tailor-made for my tall, lanky physique. The 2/3’s ounce weight of the Wiffle Ball, which is about 1/8 the weight of a regulation baseball, was like the equivalent of Superman being called up from the AAA farm club down in Krypton. I pummeled the ball with regularity, smoking line drive home runs Miguel Cabrera style, and launching towering majestic moonshots into the sodium light illuminated sky (yes, we actually had lights so that we could play night games).
While I could certainly handle the bat, my true calling card, what made me an especially gifted Wiffle Ball player is what I was able to do when I would make that slow walk out to the mound to toe the rubber.
Over the years I was able to perfect a slider that would start on a trajectory toward a right-handed batter’s shoulder/ribs, and then when it would get about five or six feet from the batter, would drop in and slide across the strike zone. If a batter was actually able to time their swing and connect with the ball, it would usually result in them getting out in front of the pitch and harmlessly slamming a foul ball into the house. Most times though, my control was so good that they would be frozen in their stance, unable to pull the trigger as the ball took a hard left-hand turn and slid by them, leaving them no choice but to reluctantly agree to a called strike.
Like other Cy Young-caliber pitchers, my devastating slider was made more potent because of the other complimentary pitches in my arsenal. I would use my slider to work the count in my favor, changing the speed and eye level for the batter, and then right when I would have my opponent lulled into looking for another big, looping slider, I would pound an inside fastball right by them. I also had an overhead sinker which looked like a fastball out of the hand, but with an ever so slight break to it, as well as a side-arm sinker, which I didn’t like as much, since it telegraphed to the batter exactly what was coming. I also had an eephus pitch that I hardly ever threw since about one of every ten ended up going over the fence and landing in the backyard, which resulted in me being charged with an error and putting a man on base.
By now, you can probably tell that I could go on forever talking about Wiffle Ball. For the time being, I’ll just have to look forward to that day in the not-so-distant future when I get my bionic eye and can call up Matt Souza, Chris LaRoue or Matt Rockwood (but probably not Chad Fulk, since he’s a lot bigger and stronger than I am now), and challenge them to a game in the side yard. Just like old times.
This got me thinking about what other things I would do if I were able to get my sight back. You already know what number 10 is on the list, but here are the other “Top 10” things I am going to do once I get my new bionic eye…
10. Wiffle Ball.
I rest my case.
9. Go driving.
This is one of those things that you just miss after a while. Getting behind the wheel, the freedom of getting in your car and going somewhere on a whim. Maybe I will buy a stick shift Chevy Camero convertible and take a drive up the West Michigan coast with the top down, or rent a RV and drive the family out to the Grand Canyon. Shit, maybe I will become an over-the-road trucker for a few years, just until I can get it all out of my system.
8. Binge-watch the entire 1997, 1998, 2002, and 2008 Detroit Red Wings Stanley Cup playoffs and finals.
I lost my eyesight in the early ’90s, so I was never able to see my beloved Red Wings hoist Lord Stanley’s Cup with my own eyes. So, when I get my new bionic eye, you better believe that this is one of the first things that I’m going to do. Regrettably, now that Joe Louis Arena is no more, I won’t be able to “see” a live game there (I’ve actually been to several games at Joe Louis, just never when I was fully sighted), but maybe I’ll cap off my marathon Red Wings watch party by checking out a Wings game at the new Little Caesars Arena.
7. Buy some Computer Aided Design (CAD) software and go to town.
Back when I had aspirations of becoming an architect, CAD software was just starting to come onto the scene. Although we were introduced to the basics of CAD, our high school drafting teacher, Mr. Neurither, was all about old school pen and paper drawing, so I never got to experience the full potential of this powerful software. Although I loved my old drafting table, I’m eager to see what I can do with CAD and look forward to diving back into architecture head first.
6. Finally illustrate the children’s book I started writing for my son Carson, “Where Are Murphy’s Thumbs?”.
It is the tale of a thumb-sucker (Carson) who becomes enamored with his furry play-mate (our old yellow lab Murphy) and sets off in search of answers to the age-old question, “Where are Murphy’s thumbs?” I actually embellished the part about Carson being a thumb-sucker. I was the one who was the thumb sucker when I was younger, Carson was more of a binky man. Also, I don’t want to give away too much of the book’s plot, but let’s just say that the title for the sequel is going to be, “Where Is My Tail?”
5. Check out this whole “internet” thing that everyone has been talking about.
As far as sight goes, I have never known a visual world with the internet in it. As a result, I can’t start to fathom what it is that I have been missing out on. As soon as I take delivery of my 2025 model Acme bionic eye, I am going to get a month’s worth of Cool Ranch Doritos, plop myself down in front of my computer, and get silly stupid surfing the web (is that what the kids say these days?).
4. Try out playing lacrosse.
As you can tell from the beginning of this long, rambling post, playing sports is one of the things that I miss most. That’s not to say that I haven’t found ways to stay active, as noted in my April 20 blog post. Whether it’s riding our tandem bike, kayaking, playing pond hockey on our home-made rink up north or roller-blading with the boys out in front of our house, I keep busy. I even got back into downhill skiing last year, which I’ve got to say, was both exhilarating and terrifying. Lacrosse on the other hand, is one of those sports that I never really had a chance to try. Both of my boys play lacrosse, and it looks like an absolute blast. I think I would love how it combines the hand-eye coordination that you get in baseball or hockey with the contact you get in football. I think the only part that I probably won’t like about it, especially because I will be pushing 53 years old by the time I am able to suit up, is all the running that is involved. Do they have any sort of hybrid sport that combines using lacrosse sticks with riding horses like you do in polo? They should.
3. Learn.
I didn’t realize how much of a visual learner I was until I no longer had the luxury of using my sight to learn. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice. When I get my bionic eye, I’m going to get back into playing the piano, and maybe even take a stab at learning how to read sheet music. Back in the mid ’90s when I was still playing semi-regularly, my brother-in-law Mike (who did know how to read sheet music) would feed instructions to me in small, digestible bursts of information until I could memorize where to place my fingers to learn a particular song. As you can imagine, this was a slow process. But, I got good enough to where I could play several songs: Elton John’s “Your Song”, “And So It Goes” and “Piano Man” by Billy Joel, “We’ve Got Tonight” by Bob Seger, and the Piece De Resistance, “Making Love Out of Nothing At All” by Air Supply!
If I haven’t already done so by then, I’m also going to follow through on learning how to code. I recently started to audit an online Python programming course, and at risk of getting ahead of myself, I don’t necessarily want to stop at learning just one computer language/technology.
2. Look through all of my old photos.
Enough time has passed now that my memories have started to fade, and every day things get a little more fuzzy. I can’t wait until the day comes when I can actually reboot my memory banks, systematically go back through my personal keepsakes and have these old memories magically reappear right before my eyes like a Polaroid photograph appearing on the blank film (did I date myself with this reference?). I am going to start by going through the giant tub of photos in our basement. Then, I’m going to look through all of my old yearbooks and watch our wedding video. And then, for good measure, I’m going to go back through my wife’s Facebook page and look at all of the pictures she has posted since we’ve been together. I look forward to finally getting a chance to watch my boys grow up, and seeing all of the visual evidence to go along with what I have always known, which is that my wife is beautiful. I look forward to once again seeing loved ones who I have lost, my mom, my grandma and grandpa, and our yellow lab Murphy.
1. Take my wife on a proper date.
My wife Teresa and I didn’t meet until after I had lost my eyesight. That means that I never had the chance to drive over to her house to pick her up for a date, or open the passenger door for her before getting behind the wheel to drive her to a movie theater or some fancy restaurant. I know this sounds stupid, but I am so committed to trying to make this right that I might rent an apartment for a week, just so that I can finally give her the full experience of having me pick her up for a real date. And then from there who knows. Maybe I’ll take her to a Dave Matthews concert, and actually get seats in the pavilion this time. Maybe I’ll drive her back up to Ludington where we spent part of our honeymoon, or over to Mackinac Island. Maybe I will try to recreate one of our other trips to the Florida Keys, Jamaica or the Dominican Republic. Maybe we’ll see a new part of the Caribbean. Maybe we’ll finally get around to taking that long road trip to see the expanses of the American west. The possibilities, like my love for her, are endless.
So, that’s it. There are the top ten things that I am going to do once I get my new bionic eye. I guess the only thing left to do now is wait. Four years, 363 days and counting. My bionic eye is going to be here before you know it!