Sorry about that pitchers, but if you want to throw a ball in my direction, don't be surprised if I hit one back in yours.
My brother played a lot of shortstop in softball. He could also throw the ball harder than anyone I know (maybe that’s why he is pitching, still, on a baseball team). I was watching one of his games back in the early 70’s and he was getting very frustrated by the other team trying to break up double plays by the base runner coming to second with their hands up. And they had been warned several times.
So in the 6th inning there was a runner on first (the guy that kept raising his hands to break up the plays). A guy hit a hard grounder to the second baseman. He fired the ball to my brother as he tagged second base. Sure enough, the baserunner tried to block the throw to first. My brother fired the ball, as hard as he could, right into the guys gut.
They had to bring an ambulance on the field and take the guy away. He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.
No, the guy didn’t die, and he even apologized for doing what he did, and my bro apologized for tagging him, but the guy stopped doing that.
Heh. I wish I could have played with you, and hit behind you in the order.
I had no power, but could place the ball throughout high school. Unless there was a runner on, and I had to hit behind him, or unless the team was playing a shift, I was going one place: straight at the pitcher.
Ronnie Hilyer? If you're reading this now, I apologize, but I loved the two games I faced you my junior year. Eight at-bats. I hit you six times, plus a single up the middle, between your legs, and a line drive that nearly took your ear off. Eight for eight, buddy. Eight for eight. And you were BAILING with every pitch.