you read that correctly; where I live there is a "league" (over 20 years and getting stronger each season) of "beerball" players who gather every sunday night, take a beer in the field and play some highly competitive, well-officiated softball.
I'll spare you the intricacies in favor of my musings.
I'm the only woman who plays an actual position. that said, the other regular gals may be braver: they sometimes pitch. with a group of regular guys who look like they could walk on to the Kansas city Royals staring you down at less than 60 feet—well, I am not that insane.
except maybe I am. the first ever game of beerball I played, I was taken out (stampeded!) at second base by a fast and large woman. when I woke up, I was still holding the ball. but I was knocked out of work for two weeks with a concussion and whiplash.
fast forward—jeremy and I have been playing for most of this season. evie has become the unofficial mascot, and has a crush on a nice young man named billy. j and I are apparently both in the running for the "where have you gone joe dimaggio?" award, as we've been away from the game since 2004. (aside: I wish I were making that up—the commish keeps religious stats, and hands out wonderfully named awards!)
as of late I have played mostly second base. until this week, when I was convinced to take short stop. which I was fine with, until the third baseman asked to trade (I have a better arm…so much for throwing like a girl!). and even playing third was fine—you know how much I love to watch Brandon Inge, and barehand a few grounders during warm ups with my high knee socks on—until I remembered that I was extremely tired, the game was well into its 4th hour, and I was three or so beers deep.
lesson learned: catching the ball with two hands is fundamentally sound baseball. when a throw from left field tails, MOVE YOUR GLOVE HAND FIRST! yes, that crack heard round the field was my hand. yes, little evie came running onto the field to kiss it (even telling all the boys "wait, wait, get away, I need to kiss my Mommy's boo-boo!"). it hurt enough that my first thought was "don't vomit". my second, "don't cry". and the third "I really hope when I look at my fingers they aren't mangled".
amazingly, my hand is sore and stiff but not much else.
next week I think I'll stick to second or short. third base is the goal for next season, but third base = sober(ish) ball and being more comfortable with diving.
my word, I love baseball.
2 comments:
I played third base for years, before my ever-decreasing range moved me over to first (in the tradition of George Brett, Darrell Evans, and, um, everyone else). I still find the followig things confusing about the position.
1) The base play is much less routinized than any of the other infield positions. I tended to play third kind of like I was playing catcher or first, between the base path and the base, which baaically meant I blocked the bag. But at different times, you have to play outside the bag. Also, if someone hits the ball to third base, nobody covers the base for you.
2) No ball comes off as fast as a ball hit to third base. I'm totally with you on never wanting to field the pitcher's mound. But when a right-handed batter turns on a pitch, they can just launch it at you. And I swear, it bounces differently. At first base, you can get used to just about everything that gets hit in your direction. At shortstop, you have more time and distance to react.
In short, third base is a real pain in the ass. First base is fun, short stop is challenging, and second base is dignified. But it's easier to get hurt at third than anywhere else in the infield (except catcher, but those injuries are more habitual than spectacular).
And I still would have next to no idea what to do in the outfield. It's just not for me.
When I played baseball in my (much) younger days, I dreamed of first base. (As a lefty, my infield options were limited.) Although, confusingly, coach would play me every once in a while at third. (If you think about the rationale for making most of the infield right-hand, it becomes quickly apparent that third base is the most ridiculous position for a lefty to play.)
I don't remember ever making any big plays or catches at third, but that's probably because, for all of my dreams of the infield, I am small of stature and fleet of foot, and so anyone with any sense has pushed me to outfield. As I've gotten older this has become a far more dignified place to play. When you're 12, outfield is where you put the guys with butterfingers and holes in their mitts. When you play in your 20s, outfield really starts to matter.
It's a good time. While I've never turned a double play (although I've been on the first base side a few times) running down a fly ball is a great feeling, every time.
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