By Chad Kimberley
Splash Column

I am learning quickly the downfall of being a columnist. People expect you to do what is in your column. I can't just write out a bunch of ideas of what you should do during the summer to fill your sports fix (as I did in the June Splash) without having someone (namely my buddy Jay) ask me when I was going to actually DO the things I wrote about. 

As a quick refresher, I suggested the ideas of hitting a home run, playing some P-I-G, running the Loop, working out on the Fallen Heroes circuit, wiping out on the lake, playing some barefoot soccer, hiking at the county park and playing lots of golf. 

Wow, now I have to figure out what I am going to do and when. June is always a tough month for me as I am pretty busy with summer ball with my Freeman girls basketball team, so I settled on two events I could do quickly and - most importantly - two things I love the most. (Yes, running is not going to be part of this first column.)

Since Jay was holding me accountable for this summer adventure, I called him up and told him he had just won the honor of throwing batting practice to me at the Liberty Lake Ballfields.

Before I dive into my feats of strength (tongue firmly planted in cheek while typing) on the baseball field, let me take you back to how many home runs I hit in my youth and college career. 

Start with zero. Add a one. Take away a one because I only hit that home run in my dreams. Grand total: zero. Yep, zero career home runs. I like to view myself as a strong middle infielder, but the Mendoza Line would have been an improvement on my career line. I am pretty sure my coach always gave me the take sign in hopes I would either get hit or take four balls. 

Second pitch of the session - BOOM - a towering drive to left. I imagine Harry Caray bellowing, "It might be, it could be, holy cow a home run." Good feelings all around. 

Now it was time to settle into a fun game of home run derby. Jay and I played three innings, with each inning being the amount of balls in the bucket. We pitched to each other. Our kids and wives played the outfield. It was a blast. 

My daughter, Bri, went up against the fence trying to rob Jay of a home run so that her dad could win. My son, Jonathan, was in the outfield and wasn't confident about catching some of the line drives and high flies heading out toward him. I told him I would get him some baseball sticker packs if he could make a catch.

I ripped one right to him, he bravely stuck his glove out to grab it and it literally took the glove right off of his hand. I had that parental moment of panic hoping he wasn't too scared or hurt. His first words: "It counts; I get the sticker packs."

Final score, 13-7, the first summer sports challenge is a success. 

Next up was a few games of P-I-G. The key to this challenge was to hit all five parks in the Liberty Lake area that have basketball hoops. Bri and I hit Little Bear Park first, which also, unfortunately, has a little short hoop. It was tough for both of us to shoot on the 8-footer, and we had it at P-I to P-I for way too long. Our style of play is to either "prove it or second chance" on the final winning shot. So, if I make a shot and Bri misses, instead of immediately winning, she either gets a second chance or I have to prove it by making it again. 

I am not clutch, as I miss five prove-its before closing out the win. 

We head to Pavillion, where we play another close PIG-PI battle. I have discovered the keys in our battles; Bri makes free throws, and I shoot a lot of 3-pointers, which is the mean dad way of beating your child who is not quite as strong yet. 

We head over to LLES, where I get hot quickly and put her away PIG-nothing. Playing nearby, my two younger kids complain - "But we just got here!" - when I announce it is time to go. 

"It's better to be blown out then to be close, because you just get your hope crushed at the end," Bri comments.  

I kinda feel guilty. Just kinda. 

Over to Rocky Hill, and Bri has adopted a new strategy: trick shots. She shoots from behind the basket repeatedly until she makes two, and I miss them both. I fear my first loss to her and the gloating I will hear. In honor of all the 40-year-old dads who are not quite ready to pass the baton to their children, I bury some deep jumpers and close it out PIG-PI.

We wrap up our five park P-I-G challenge at Pump House Park, where she gets another letter on me with her trick shot mojo, while I bury a couple of jumpers for a PI-P lead. I decide to finish her off in the only way possible: trick shot. I settle out about 12 feet away from the basket on the baseline behind the hoop. I remember Larry Bird knocking in this shot regularly. I make my shot. Bri attempts it and misses. Of course it is a "prove it" type of shot. 

Nothing but net. 

We spend a few more minutes shooting hoops and being silly and laughing on the playground equipment. This is what the summer is about for me. Hanging out with my family and friends and playing sports. Two events down, but plenty of summer left.