So let’s talk about brain function and softball (hey, you read the title of the column, right? This ain’t for wimps). You might say this idea really came out of left field. You might say it really caught me off base. You might say that, right off the bat, I’m getting buried in baseball metaphors.

So I was doing an assignment for Writer’s Digest on brain function and creativity. The idea came about when I noticed that, whenever I spent an afternoon working on my paintings, my subsequent writing sessions (which might, logically speaking, be expected to suffer from a “sapping” of my creative juices) were actually much more energized and vivid.

In my research, I found that a lot of the reason for this effect comes from the well-known relations of the left and right brain (or, more accurately, the left and right hemispheres of the cerebral cortex - you know, the big, wrinkly thing on top). The right hemisphere specializes in pattern recognition, conceptual thinking, visual imagery and spatial relationships. It is also open to new things, such as ideas, those little sparkly objects that provide the raw material for writing. Once the ideas come to the surface, however, they’re quickly shipped off to the left hemisphere, where the language skills (both oral and written) take up the process of pinning them down on paper.

By working on my paintings, then, I was spending hours “loosening up” my right brain by studying patterns and imagery, while also resting the left-brain skills that have to carry most of the load during writing. (In a quick aside, this is also the reason you rest from reading or writing by staring at some distant object; you’re not just resting your eyes, you’re resting your left brain, by engaging for a brief time in the right-brain activities of pattern play and visual study).

So where does softball come into play with all of this? While writing the story, I realized that my best writing sessions come right after my Wednesday night slow pitch league, when I adjourn to a cafe across the street and write my little head off. The quick answer would be the oxygen blood flow afforded by all that running around. But what adds to the mix is the right-brain stimulation that makes up so much of the game. How much more pattern recognition and spatial relationships can you get than in tracking a fly ball or hitting a round object with a round stick?

By the time I threw in that double-latte, I was primed to gear up the writing assembly line.

The left brain is also the center for calculation, so whenever you want to get down to those tax forms, just... whoops. Sorry, too late.

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I am back to one city again, and am already reaping the benefits of a more consistent softball schedule. Amazing how much easier it is to get your swing back with regular at-bats.

Not that the Sunnyvale Bums had an easy start. We were trounced mightily by last fall’s champs, ComedySportz - which, believe it or not, is sponsored by a comedy-improv troupe. In fact, the first baseman is a local theater director who I’ve interviewed a couple times for the local weekly.

ComedySportz simultaneously demonstrated the most irritating and noble traits of softballers. The irritating was embodied entirely by their third-base coach, who found great pleasure in yelling things like “He’s coming!” or “Third base!” in an attempt to get our fielders to throw the ball to the wrong place. Do I need to explain why this is the lowest of bush-league behavior, and why it really doesn’t belong in an adult league? (Actually, it doesn’t belong in Little League, either, but they tend to behave much more honorably than adults, anyway). It also didn’t help much that they were kicking our butts - throw a little salt on that wound?

Lacking the baseball option of having a pitcher throw something rapid at his noggin, I made a pledge to give the coach a good, hard (but perfectly legal) slide the next time I met him during a double-play turn (he also played short). It’s a long shot, but it’s all I had.

In stark contrast was the entire rest of the team, who did something absolutely remarkable in their last at-bat. With a big lead and time running out, they were the home team, so they could have taken a couple pitches, run out the clock and been on their way. Instead, they started whacking at anything near the plate. With two outs and 12 seconds left, their senior second baseman actually swung at the first pitch, and lined it into center for a game-ending single. Now that is style, my friends, and I commend ComedySportz for demonstrating the ultimate in sportsmanship. (If they could just get rid of that basecoach...)

The first two games were also a test of the age-old dilemma; would you rather A) play a great individual game in a losing cause, or B) play a so-so game in a winning cause? I’m going with B every time, because A always feels too lonely. In our third game, I led off with a wimpy grounder to the pitcher (the accursed wrist-rollover effect), and was followed by back-to-back-to-back homers from my teammates. “Well!” I declared. “If that’s what I have to do to get you guys going, then so be it!”

Have a great season. And take care of that right brain.

Michael J. Vaughn is the author of the erotic novel Double Blind (available at amazon.com) and a regular contributor to Writer’s Digest and Publishers Weekly. geocities.com/michaeljvaughn