The pitcher of recored?

Nope not me. The player of the game? Still nope.
The other day while up in Dallas visiting our friends the East, we (Calvin, their oldest boy Jay, their second oldest Daniel and myself) did so batting practise. I started and for the life of me I could not hit the ball. Maybe I did not swing when Calvin through a good pitch. Or maybe Calvin did not throw a pitch close enough for me to swing at it. Any how I did not do good. Then Jay came up and I took over pitching. I throw without winding up, which is the way that pitching coaches do it, so that the pitch is not to fast and more accurately thrown in the strike zone so it can be hit. This helped as Jay belted pitches left and right. Calvin went next and at first he was smoking them too. But then I got tired and started throwing them wide. And then Calvin had the same problem I did when I was batting. Daniel was next and that helped. I came in closer and found the middle of the plate for him a lot more then I did for Calvin. I had one more turn before we had to leave, Jay pitch and the first one was good. However I hit it straight back to the back stop. The next thirty pitches I either watched as they went wide, or I reached for the pitches, missing them more often then not. The only comfort that I could bring back in the end is that I was the best pitching coach. Oh, and that out of my five hits, three of them were bombs. Maybe not home runs in a big league park but in any little league park, they were long gone.