Zach the Slugger
An interesting thing about being a sportswriter: You write about other people doing things. One thing I always practiced as a professional writer was not to be too critical of athletes.
The blog is another story, but ...
Anyway, here's why that is.
I play on my company's softball team. I had not played with any regularity for over 10 years. Normally, I just show up, bat, occasionally catch, and that's it.
Oh yeah, I have not been able to hit.
At all.
Coming into today, I had five at-bats, and I had made five outs. In fact, I had yet to hit the ball past the pitcher.
Today I played again. I was the designated hitter, batting 11th out of 11 batters.
In my first at-bat, I popped up to the pitcher.
In the second at-bat, tried something different -- batting right handed, something I hadn't done since I was 11. My swing on the first pitch was so god awful I immediately switched back to left.
Then, it happened.
I slapped at the ball and pulled it to second.
Off to the races.
I hustled my way to first, and reached when the second baseman (bless his heart) bobbled the ball. My teammates, perhaps out of shock, cheered me on.
Then I stood at first and realized that I hadn't been able to the run bases in a long while. I looked out at second base and wondered if I could reach it. I moved to second on a grounder, which was the second out.
Scoring position.
The next batter got a base hit, and I bumbled to third.
See, here's the thing.
You need to slow up when approaching third. You can't run through it unless you're expecting to score. The third base coach tells you to stop, and you slow up so you can stop. Even the most rudimentary baserunner knows his. It's natural.
This is what entered my mind as I hit the bag and kept on chugging.
As the spirits of Jackie Robinson, Vada Pinson and Joe Jackson covered their eyes in disgust, I stopped, and tried to slide back into third.
But I hadn't slid since Clinton was president -- in the first term.
Forgetting the basic principle of a slide, I forced myself to fall, then move towards the bag.
It was a version of the slide -- in the way that Pat Boone is considered by some a version of rock 'n' roll.
Most of the team at this point wanted to make sure I hadn't pulled something.
OK. Two outs, I'm on third.
The next batter shot a base hit and I took off for home. As I approached the plate, I envisioned myself scoring the run and enjoying the moment.
As I approached home, a teammate of mine said "You're in easy."
For some reason, I was distracted by this, scored, then tripped and fell -- again.
My knee was now officially scraped and I was bleeding.
Every time I decide to criticize a player, I hope this event pops into my head.
Luckily, I will always have this post as a reminder.