The author swings for the fences.

My lack of athletic ability is well established. I’m the one who dropped simple pop flies during Little League tryouts in ’88. I’m the one who whiffed an easy kick during a soccer game in high school gym class. Yep, I’m that kid who got picked last. My outlet for sports consists of this column and otherwise being a fan.

Well, except for one Saturday each August when I play catcher in a softball game. WEAU created the Celebrity Softball Game fundraiser for the newly established John T. Hoffland Memorial Scholarship Fund, which assists journalism majors at UW-Eau Claire (in honor of my dad, WEAU’s longtime News Director, who passed away in July 2009). This being the Chippewa Valley, the media pretty much accounts for most area “celebrities.” On-air personalities from WEAU and the Maverick Media radio stations (where I work) play a team of actual athletes: the Eau Claire Cavaliers, plus other area sports personnel (coaches and the like).

I’m the one who dropped simple pop flies during Little League tryouts in ’88. I’m the one who whiffed an easy kick during a soccer game in high school gym class. Yep, I’m that kid who got picked last.

Considering my dual role as a sports-loving radio personality and the son of the subject of the game, my presence on the media team – known as Hoffland’s Hitters – was essentially required. Last year’s game was quite the success, and the softball match is now an annual event, meaning once a year I get to take the field as a player and not a lucky dude with a press pass.

Each year before the game, Hoffland’s Hitters do a little warm-up session at the Fairfax ball fields. This warm-up is vital for the muscles, which proved obvious during those sessions as my basic throwing motion resulted in softballs going in a fan of directions from my intended target, and my hitting sent balls dribbling in front of home plate – when I wasn’t completely missing the ball.

We played this year’s game on August 7. Heading out to the Gelein Field diamond, I resumed my now-annual tradition of bringing along a box of multiple hats and helmets to alternate throughout the game. This year’s batch featured predominately 1980s throwbacks from the Brewers, Twins, Expos, and more. After some additional on-field warming-up (to the point where I had some semblance of aim with my throws and power with my swing), my mother and I sang a duet of The Star-Spangled Banner, with my mom’s voice in lovely form. Then, 1985-era Brewers helmet on, it was off to my spot behind the plate to catch the throws of fireballer Bob Gallaher.

I played some catcher last year and filled the role full-time this year. Playing catcher in a softball game is fun – mainly since you are involved in every play. The ball is always coming in your direction, and you may have to do something with said ball. The best part of catching? It’s a tie between a pop-up where you pull off the helmet and aim to make a catch for the out (as media folk, making catches for outs comes at a premium), and tagging out the occasional runner at home. The worst? The ever-present possibility of a foul tip to the face (no, I did not wear a mask). This almost happened last year, and could have resulted in me no longer writing this column.

 Offensively, my batting prowess came alive at Gelein. I followed last year’s 3-for-5 hitting performance with a 4-for-5 effort and two runs scored, and I was getting a little elevation and distance on the ball. No whiffs, thankfully. 

Hoffland’s Hitters defeated the real athletes 19-18 last year, and we eked out a 31-30 triumph this time around, highlighted by an epic inside-the-park home run by Judy Clark. In case you’re wondering how a bunch of reporters and DJs can top actual baseball players, let’s just say some reverse-handed batting and intentionally lackadaisical fielding on the Cavs team’s part “contributed” to our wins – the “celebrities” have to win, right?

All in all, it was entertaining for the fans and maybe more entertaining for us players, plus we raised money so we can have quality journalists in the future, and spent the day remembering my dad. And I proved that maybe I have some athletic ability, after all. Joe Mauer, here I come.