|7.0 cm circumference|
Roswell, New Mexico, 1998: Daryl and I locked horns for 13 scoreless innings of wiffle ball in a hotel parking lot (we played single out innings, mind you). The only run of the game came on a lucky grounder just inside the curb we had selected to demarcate the foul line. Though I exclusively bat lefty, I switched to the right side of the plate for that at-bat. I figured 13 scoreless innings of wiffle-ball that close to Area 51 was not going to resolve within conventional terms.
It was the top of the inning, so not a walk-off. In the bottom of the 13th, I recorded the save. Daryl was very upset.