I Got It
Is there anything I like more than catching a fly ball? Other than the company of just a few people … I’m thinking … still thinking … coming up blank here … no. The answer’s no. Stealing home is fun. Pecan pie is fab. Making it to the top of something snowy and tall is satisfying. Having someone who reports to me become a city manager is always a good day. A few words strung together just so, or some tactics and strategy aligning every now and then is always welcome. But there’s nothing better than that thunk in the mitt.
Even the throw afterwards is anti-climatic, particularly post rotator cuff surgery (no offense, and thanks, Doc Hoffman). It’s officially #playball weekend, and MLB is hyping the game in all its beauty. Good for them, cause there ain’t nothing about the national pastime that I don’t like. But if I could make a living doing my favorite thing, it would be shagging fly balls during batting practice. You get way more chances during BP than games, you can goof off catching balls behind your back or barehanding them, and you can go max effort without the pressure of the game situation. The real pressure is internal, anyway.
Every catch is a small chunk of kinetic magic. The ball starts way over there, and starts a parabola, consuming hundreds of feet in three dimensions. The wind moves it. The background sometimes hides it. The sun, or those damn bright things Edison invented, can swallow it whole. And, there you are, alone. Everyone can see if you have any idea of what you’re doing. And they’ll remember if you fail. Because when you fail - really fail - as an outfielder, it’s more than one base.
The ball’s moving in three dimensions (four when you add in time) and you just have two dimensions, and whatever genetic gift of height you’ve been bequeathed. Three / four dimensional problem, and a two dimensional answer key. Honestly, it’s the most fun there is.
You start by sizing up the batter and game situation, and trying to see the catcher’s sign for the pitch. Inside. Outside. Fastball. Breaking ball. That matters in positioning, and was so much easier before four decades of reading. Watch the pitch, try to see the bat make contact with the ball and start to move. Hope it doesn’t come right at you, because those are the most difficult (more on this later). Hope it goes to the very limits of your speed and gait before it returns to Earth. Those are the best. No one thinks you’ll get there run run run never give up run dive slide thunk in the mitt hold on tight roll roll get up and throw.
Whatever you do, don’t smile. Had it all the way. (This is where BP shagging is better. You can goof off and smile.)
Its #playball weekend and the Sea Otter League is holding its one and only practice before games start next week. Fifty and sixty year-old boys at play, with a few in their seventies. Most are in the infield, because sprinting blows legs apart at this age. But there’s a few of us out here, squinting a little at the pitch, and running like gazelles with gout. We got it.
There’s actually a phrase for it; embodied cognition. The use of movement and positioning, while calculating the visual input of the ball getting bigger or smaller as you close on it. Move along the right vector, at the right speed, the ball gets bigger. Move along the wrong vector, or at the wrong speed, the ball gets smaller. The ones right at you are trickiest, because you lose a dimension in the vectoring. It seems a small miracle, and is, at the proficiency and speed of Sea Otter League baseball. Mike Trout does it much better. But so do Border Collies, tracking down Frisbees. They do the same thing; just trying to move along the best path to make the Frisbee bigger until they grab it in their mouth.
Here’s the connection to life (or what passes for it) beyond the baseball diamond. Embodied cognition works for problem-solving in professional circumstances too. If you’re in a leadership position (or you want to be recognized as a leader) take the most efficient, fastest path to intercept the problem. Go to the problem. Call for it, catch it. Make a play. Turn disbelief into faith.
Watch for the ones hit right at you, because those are the trickiest.
And smile, cause it's all BP.
