Name: Lindsay Fincher
Team:DC Wifflehouse (2006 – Ballers for Jesus)
Age: 25
Hometown: Rancho Mirage, CA
Resides: Washington, DC
Employer: Big Energy
Seasons: Summer 2006, Spring 2007
Bats: Left
Throws: Right

TWIF: What is your favorite baseball team and who is your favorite baseball player of all time?
LF: "Los Angeles" Angels of Anaheim. Tim "King Fish" Salmon.

TWIF: What is your favorite thing about Wiffleball?
LF: Competing, the cute matching t-shirts, beaning batters for the hell of it knowing they can’t take first, and the planes from National Airport roaring overhead.

TWIF: If you could put a Wiffleball anywhere, where would you put it?
LF: I’d like to hit one over the big orange fence someday, but I’m always content to smack one straight back to the pitcher and watch him writhe in pain, even if it’s an out.

TWIF: Who is the player in the league you’d most like to see get hit by a car while chasing a foul ball?
LF: At the risk of being kicked out of the League, I’d have to go with you, the commissioner. I’m not big on authority figures, and your absence would result in a total collapse of The Canvassers, the PWL equivalent of the New York Yankees.

TWIF: Ryan Seacrest or Ryan Hughes?
LF: Hughes. You think Seacrest knows his way around a Wiffleball field? Please, he’s too busy serving as Simon Cowell’s pool boy.

TWIF: During Week 4 you celebrated your birthday week by ripping a double in your opening at-bat, your first career extra base hit. As you continue to grow and develop as a player, what advice would you give to the young kids out there just starting out in Wiffleball who have dreams of making it to the show in 15-20 years?
LF: First, you can never take enough BP. I’d recommend, at minimum, two hours in the batting cages each day. Second, find yourself a good agent – someone who is willing to step up to the plate for you and negotiate an endorsement deal with In-N-Out or Stolichnaya (sorry, gotta show my sponsors some love). Third, and most importantly, stay away from the hard stuff and the Wiffleball groupies, no matter how tempting. I’m not going to name names (saving it for my autobiography), but we’ve already got too many Darryl Strawberrys running around the Potomac Wiffleball League.