Pete's Expert Summary
My human has brought another piece of colorful plastic junk into my domain, this one from a brand called "Franklin Sports" that seems to think structured "training" is a valid form of play. It's a tall stand designed to hold a ball perfectly still so the small, loud human can whack it with a flimsy club. It has two configurations, but the only one of remote interest is the "Hanging Tee," which dangles a fuzzy sphere in mid-air—a concept I can appreciate, as it mimics a slow, witless bird. The inclusion of four such fuzzy spheres is a tactical error on their part, as they will inevitably be liberated for under-the-sofa missions. While the primary function is clearly a waste of everyone's time and a future source of nap-shattering noise, the component parts show a sliver of potential.
Key Features
- GROW WITH ME: This batting tee is specifically designed to adjust and teach young teeball players how to practice their hitting as they continue to grow and improve!
- HANGING TEE: For your youngest players, the hanging tee design suspends a ball anywhere from 18" to 26" from the ground using self stick technology so that young hitters can practice their hand eye coordination!
- TRADITIONAL TEE: Once players start to grow and improve, remove the hanging attachment to transform it into a traditional batting tee in seconds! The traditional tee adjusts from 25" to 36" in height
- ALL INCLUDED: This set comes complete with the Grow-with-Me Batting Tee, (1) 21 inch plastic bat, and (4) baseballs with self-stick covers, providing you with everything you need to play!
- SIZE: Assembles to 25.5" x 25.5" x 45.5"; ages 3+; Hanging Tee Height Adjustments: 18" to 26" ; Traditional Tee Height Adjustments: 25" - 36"
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a state of disassembly, a puzzle of hollow plastic tubes and connectors that The Human knelt to solve on my favorite living room rug. I watched from the arm of the sofa, my tail twitching in disapproval. An obelisk of cheap, primary-colored plastic slowly rose in the middle of my sunning spot, an offense to both aesthetics and my personal comfort. The box bore the name "Franklin Sports," which sounded far too serious for something so garish. It was, I deduced, a monument to poor taste. Soon after, the Kitten-Human was presented with the contraption and a plastic club. The true horror began. There was a dangling ball, suspended by a cord, which the small one proceeded to miss with a series of shrieks and wild, uncoordinated swings. The *thwack* of the club hitting the plastic stand sent a shudder through my pristine gray fur. This was not play; this was a percussive assault on the peace of my kingdom. I flattened my ears, gave a low growl of disgust, and retreated to the relative quiet of the upstairs landing to groom away the stress. Hours later, silence reigned once more. The humans had abandoned their noisy ritual, leaving the strange altar standing alone in the evening gloom. My curiosity, a formidable force, drew me back downstairs. I circled the structure, sniffing its base. It smelled of plastic and failure. I looked up at the ball, hanging motionless. With a practiced, silent leap, I landed beside it and gave it a tentative pat with one white-gloved paw. It swung away, then arced back toward me on its tether. A slow, predictable pendulum. I batted it again, harder this time. It swung with more vigor. An amusing, if simple, mechanism. But as I toyed with this suspended offering, my gaze drifted downward. The three legs of the base formed a perfect, triangular entryway into the space beneath. It was a revelation. A tri-pointed grotto. A command center. I slipped under the central column, my soft fur brushing against the smooth plastic. From this new vantage point, the entire living room was my panopticon. I was hidden, sheltered, yet with a clear line of sight to the kitchen entrance and the hallway. The dangling ball was a mere bauble, a silly chandelier for my new throne room. The humans thought they had purchased a "training tool." The fools. They had, in fact, erected a monument to my magnificence, a shaded pavilion from which I could now pass judgment on them all. The toy, I decided, was worthy. Not for its intended purpose, which is idiotic, but for its accidental architectural brilliance. I settled in, a gray king in his new plastic palace, and began a long, satisfying nap.
