So im in the mood to share a tl;dr story so here it goes.
I grew up the first 8 years living with my grandmother in a neighborhood in Chattanooga and my best friend and I were the only kids around the same age that resided there.We were constantly outside either on our bikes but the game that always was serious business was wiffle ball.
So this was a game of one on one and played with a wiffle ball that was taped up and put holes in to give it wicked movement. The backyard of his grandmothers was the field, about 100 yards to the outfield fence and a piece of plywood behind home plate propped against a tree with a square spray painted on to mark the strike zone.
The rules were just like regular baseball, obviously if you caught a pop fly they were out, but a live ball you had a choice, pick it up and try to chuck it at them, if you hit them and they weren't past first base or on a base they were out, if it dosent hit them it's still a live ball and they can still continue to run the bases until you retrieve the ball , then of course you could just hold on to it and then they would call a "ghost runner" which would stay at that base and he would go back up to bat.
It was alot of fun, every year we would make renovations to the field, we kept raising the pitchers mound, even got a old pitchers rubber from a Lookouts game after one of their renovations, then we chipped in and bought a bunch of floodlights and had our first night game. My son will learn the ways of wiffle ball one day..