A particularly sadistic Pony League coach used to do the same drills with me that Hudson describes. Do them TO me is probably a better way of putting it. But, again, like he says, the worst part of it, at least if you're in Texas, is, by far, the heat.
I always enjoyed being in the middle of everything and having everyone in front of me and easy access to the umpire and so on, and I never minded any facet of the actual position other than catching towering popups. I was never hugely confident at that. I don't remember any particularly embarrassing drops or anything, just a sort of sense of dread when some goon would pop one up that I should get to. We'd practice by taking a pitching machine and dialing it up to 120 miles per hour and pointing that thing straight up or whatever angle you need to have the thing shoot up and land in play behind the plate. But I still never liked that at all.
I really liked that Pony League coach, by the way. He was crazy as fuck. His own son was long since too old to play. Hell, the son may have been in his 30's by the time I played for the guy. Whenever I see a big league player do something stupid like not run out that popup the other day I can't help but think about what that coach would have said and done. His threshold for slapdickery was quite low.
