Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson for April 20, 2020

A broken nose will give your face character.

Meh. Calvin gets worse playing by himself.

“I should just move,” Calvin says. But to where? To any of the British Commonwealth countries where they don’t play baseball, but rather cricket? Then again, the batted ball would still bounce and hit him in the schnoz.

If this is what happens with Dad hitting softly, I don’t want to see Moe hitting during recess.

When does “Calvinball” come into play?

And that’s why baseball was not my forte. And it wasn’t my face I was worried about, it was a couple of feet lower.

Calvin,shut your eyes, stick your fingers in your ears aand blow hard. Your nose will likely pop right back out.

In all those long ago years that went by, my Dad never did offer to play ball with me or any other sports for that matter.It’s probably his military background or the way he was raised. It could be the way I grew up the way I did… I’ll never know.

Is this player Calvin, the inventor of Calvinball?

It’s character building, now you just need the cauliflower ear to go with it….

This strip reminds me of an early scene from The Sandlot where Scotty Smalls gets a black eye after his stepfather accidentally hits him with the baseball.

Not all of us are natural athletes. Some are natural klutzes.

TRANSLATION: “Thanks for the tip, Dad. Find my nose and put it in ice so they can sew it back on!”

I’m sure this will make Calvin that much more enthused about all of this! /s

On the few occasions where I played infield, I sometimes caught the ball out of self-defense.

There should be one more panel, where dad is gone, and Hobbes picks up Calvin’s nose out of the grass.

I don’t remember this story arc at all. Nice to read something “new” for Calvin.

I remember my Dad playing with me like this, only we used a Wiffle ball. Less painful.

About the most difficult, painful thing to watch as a grandparent, so far, was the season my grandsons parents wanted him to play TBall. A bunch of pre-K kids, running around, playing “baseball” while the adults yelled, shouted and screamed at them. It was painful. But I did get to buy 5 t-shirts at $25 bucks each with my Grandson’s name on them, to support the team!

Gotta feel sorry for the kid, regardless of how disagreeable he can be.

I’m guessing trying to catch pop flies is going to have similar results for Calvin.

“I just should move.”

Calvin just needs to wear a catcher’s mask for every position on the field.

I thought Calvin would have a ball… and I was right! :D

It’s not fair. Major leaguers play on manicured surfaces and rarely get bat hops. Kids just learning the game play on sandlot surfaces and get bad hops all the time.

Dad should hook up with Big Nate’s dad and play – they’d have fun.

Translation: “Thanks for the tip, dad. Find my nose and put it in ice so they can sew it back on!”

Told my son to keep his eye on the ball. Unfortunately, he did. Nice shiner.

The first year I played in organized baseball, our next door neighbor was the coach (his son was my best friend). He and my dad wanted to know what position to put me in, so they had me squat down with a catcher’s mitt. The first pitch hit me right between the eyes… OK, not a catcher. That first year, I had right field locked down (the place where your worst fielder goes). My dad, in an effort to improve my baseball skills, drilled me on the basics in our back yard, and by the time year two rolled around, I was a pretty decent player. That year my dad was the coach, and he initiated the first trade that league had ever seen. My best friend had been assigned to a different team and dad traded to get him on ours. We both were installed as pitchers, he, a righty, was only effective for about 3 or 4 innings, while I, a lefty, could be effective for an entire game. Dad was an excellent coach, stressing the basics in practice, and drilling into us to always be thinking during the game, like “What do I do if the ball comes to me?” Anyway, we won the Championship, taking the final exciting game, 7 to 6. ⚾

that’s me… I couldn’t go near a baseball field without getting injured. Took up swimming and tennis instead.

Dad forgot to tell him: When a ball comes at you; don’t close your eyes!

I thought in that last panel, Calvin would be bawling his eyes out, like me or my brother or cousins would’ve in that situation.

A right of passage in little league. I once had a first-year (not tee ball) young shortstop who was so into it, he sometimes stopped the ball with his face and didn’t flinch. Eventually, Doug snagged every hit in his glove. Our best fielder.

The Headhunter is always surprising. I have worked at fielding the ball a little off line so it won’t hit me in the head if it bounces up. Now they make masks for infielders. I bought one this year so I don’t have to worry about it. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to use it.

Dad – maybe you should have started just playing underhand catch with Calvin to start. Calvin needs a group like the kids in “Sandlot” to teach him how to play ball.

Ooops!