Sports: Centerfield is no place for this reporter

Oct. 15—Whenever I hear John Fogerty sing "Centerfield," I immediately want to pick up a glove and head for the outfield. Especially around spring training or World Series time when it's not so darn hot.

That's odd, because I was never a good outfielder and never played organized baseball, but there's something about the song that just bubbles with optimism.

"Put me in coach."

Although I didn't play much baseball as a kid, I did play a lot of softball and believe it or not, actually played a little centerfield. That was more than 45 years and 90 pounds ago.

I was working my first job at a radio station in Seymour, Texas, a town about he size of Frankston, when it was decided that we would field a softball team that competed in a league for businesses around the area.

I hadn't played much since I got out of school, but decided to sign up just for the fun of it.

On my first day at practice, I was worried about how bad I would embarrass myself, but found I could still hit the ball pretty well. As for fielding, I had to borrow a glove from one of the other players when I headed to the outfield.

I started out in right field and to everyone's surprise, mine included, caught whatever was hit my way. After a few practices, not only was I going to get to play, but also was a starter.

I don't remember the exact circumstances, but the coach devised a defense where the rover played in front of the centerfielder and I was put in that slot.

I played there for several games and don't remember anything particularly embarrassing happening, so I guess I did all right. I even made some running catches.

So Willie Mays and I have playing centerfield in common on our resume. I understand that Mickey Mantle was an excellent outfielder until injuries ruined that part of his game.

I guess I can blame eating for knocking me out of the middle. Later, I was always in right field and so slow that when I came to he plate and got a single, I prayed that the next batter wouldn't hit a long drive and catch up to me before I reached home plate.

Once our first baseman was out of town and I tried that position. The first game, I did really well, snagged a couple of line drives and generally stayed out of trouble.

The next game we played a team with a lot of left handers who kept hitting shots down the first base line. They wore me out and I was happy to move back to right field.

When I reached 40, I gave up softball for good. By then, I was in no shape to chase flies or slide into second. "I'll take up golf," I told myself. "That should be easy."