Savage Words: PINNNGGG... ‘Heads up! Heads up!

When I was a little kid before I started playing baseball and fastpitch softball competitively, I loved watching my older brother and sister play.

And yes, I said softball. When I was a youngster, fastpitch softball for boys was a big deal in South Dakota. We won the Ringneck Tournament one year at Sherman Park. The Ringneck is now sanctioned by USA Softball and is a massive tournament on the schedule each summer for girls teams from all over the country.

But before I played and stepped into the batter’s box, watching my siblings was always fun, and sometimes profitable. We chased foul balls that flew out of the diamond after contact was made. When we got them and gave it back to the umpire, it was a whole quarter, and that was good for a lollipop at the concession stand. If you stuck around for the entire game, or even two, a hot dog wasn’t out of the question if you gathered up enough foul balls.

It was that distinctive sound when the ball met the bat. PINNNGGGG. When we heard it, all of my friends and I looked to the sky to see if it might be a foul ball. If it was in play, it was a non-starter for us. If it was foul, a shiny quarter popped into our minds.
Now that my playing days are over, I still obviously get to the park to cover Brandon Valley softball and baseball. But the PINNNGGGG sound has changed for me over the years.

What used to bring excitement when I heard that sound, now sends instant panic. With so many diamonds backed up against each other at almost every park in Brandon and Sioux Falls – like four home plates within a few hundred feet from each other – the pings now give me a shudder.

All I hear now is … PINNNGGGG “Heads up! Heads up!”

It’s a warning from bystanders to all of the people huddled around the backstop, watching one of the four games. And it’s immediate. Most people are looking to the skies to make sure they don’t get hit with a foul ball.

It’s never happened to me, but I’ve seen it. And damn, it looks like a terrible couple of seconds for those on the receiving end of an errant foul ball.

When that happens, the sound is more like: PINNNGGGG … “Heads up, Heads up………Oooooo.”

A lot of the time during a game, my face is directly behind a camera as I’m taking photos for the Journal. So when I hear the PINNNGGGG … “Heads up, Heads up,” I immediately drop my camera and stare into the sky, trying to track the ball down. I look like I’m avoiding a Mike Tyson punch, dodging, bobbing and weaving.

No one else seems as panicked as me. Everyone just looks up, realizing the ball isn’t headed in their direction, and brushes it off. Not me. I’m sure it’s quite a show as I’m panicked, looking to the sky, dodging, bobbing, weaving.

It’s the same for football on the sidelines. I’ve never taken a direct hit from a player, but I’ve seen plenty of media folks over the years who’ve taken the brunt of a linebacker running out of bounds. That one looks so painful as said linebacker lays a monster wallop on some unsuspecting reporter not paying attention standing at the 20-yard line. After the hit, they lay there for…ev…er.

But football is over, and now it’s just a foul ball that has me anxious at area baseball and softball games. 

Last week, however, I had to chuckle when I heard PINNNGGGG … “Heads up! Heads up!” As I was dodging, bobbing and weaving, there were about four little kiddos racing after the ball. It’s what I did 50 years ago.

But it’s a buck now to return a ball. A dollar! 

Inflation is a bugger, even at the diamond for the umpires.