The hot corner

Perhaps I am of the softball-playing age where I should begin to think of being put out to pasture—pasture, in this case, being the desolate expanse of the outfield known as right field.

I have been a centerfielder for much of the time since returning to Lansing’s beer league co-ed rec division post-the birth of my daughter. For the most part, I have enjoyed it—even reveled in it.

Except this year. I’m bored. Tracking fly balls is less thrilling, and more, well, blah. My focus isn’t there, and my joints aren’t a fan of sprinting across uneven, mole-hole filled terrain. Especially this fall, as I’ve been suffering from what seems to be a hip pointer. (Which is, as I described it to the man in the convenience store, the injury that took Bo Jackson from two-sport pro athlete to retired trivia subject pretty quickly.)

I’m looking for a new challenge. Or looking to recapture the potential I had in my youngest days, when my first fast-pitch coaches would place me at third (which then seemed insulting, as we all wanted to play first) because I had the arm, even then, to make the throw. (Even then, I was tossing the ball with a modified sidearm motion.)

I did play most of one co-ed season—my first back in action—at third. That wasn’t a particularly shining effort, but now I’m ready to give it the old Little League try all over again.

It’s time to start training. (Heck, it’ll also lead to some great blog fodder, right?) Beginning as soon as I find a willing trainer (the Mickey to my Rocky), I am spending the off-season fielding grounders, learning to dive (eek!) and, really, hoping to make myself the most Brandon Inge-like 3B in a skirt in Lansing.

Aside from ordering the Tom Emanski videos, what should I do? Who should be my Mickey? How do I become a great co-ed 3B? What else do I need to do?

Answers, please. This is going to be painful either way—but perhaps I can augment that with just a little fun.