Softball Musings

With the early onset of spring, a rash of softball playing has broken out in the Twin Cities area, at least from where I’m standing, which is quite often the outfield.

This means that my proficiency in hitting opposite handed is being severely tested. This is because since we play co-ed on a small field, it’s been decided that all guys should hit wrong handed. While a solid theory and a good rule in general, in my case it’s somewhat irrelevant. Hitting my natural hand, I’ll most likely ground weakly to the left side of the infield. Hitting wrong handed, I’ll most likely ground weakly to the right side of the infield. However, I’m nothing if not a team player, so I just go along with it.

On the defensive side of things, I’ve found that I enjoy playing the outfield. I could probably chase fly balls for several hours straight and not get the least bit bored. (Insert your “fetch” joke here.) One of my goals this year is to attempt a diving catch. Note that I didn’t say ‘make’ a diving catch, for you never want to have unreachable aspirations. But attempting a diving catch should be in the realm of possibility. I’ve never tried one before, always chickening out at the last moment, but this year I’m determined to change that, even if it’ll look more like an ill-advised belly flop than anything else.

On the other hand, the infield doesn’t interest me in the least, because not only do you have to remember how to “turn two” and be the “cut-off man”, there is an exponentially greater chance when playing there of a ground ball taking a bad hop and destroying your face.

So, to sum it up, if my softball role had a title, it would be Defensive Specialist Who’s Not That Good On Defense But Who’s Called That Because He’s Even Worse On Offense. (DSWNTGODBWCTBHEWOO for short)

Bonus Story:
In college I took a PE softball class. During this time I managed to blend into my surroundings quite well, never excelling, yet never being too horrible, except on one occasion. We had split into two games, and the other game finished first. Everybody from that contest moseyed on over to check out our game. Time was running short, so it was decided that we'd only play one more out, and of course I was up to bat. Now, up to this point I’d never had problems making contact with the ball the entire semester. (I’d ground weakly to the left side of the infield.) However, at that moment I realized that every eye was on me, and that the players from the other game probably wanted this game to end so they didn't have to sit around and watch, and so I immediately folded to the perceived stress. I flailed miserably at several pitches, probably looking more like somebody with uncontrollable muscle spasms than somebody trying to hit a ball, and struck out.

Hmm. Perhaps I should have ended on a positive note. Let me think. Ah, this should work.

J