Left-handed obsession brings dubious payoff decades later

When I was about 13, there were a few things I wanted to be.

• The San Francisco Giants radio play-by-play announcer.
• Someone with better hair.
• A member of the Commodores.
• Left-handed.

I worked on one option a lot: Being left-handed. (Well, I also practiced doing radio play-by-play into my tape recorder during the baseball "Game of the Week," but that was only once a month or so.)

Being a lefty was cool.

Barack Obama is a lefty. So is Paul McCartney. So were Neil Armstrong and Napoleon.

But then, though, I was mostly focused on how cool left-handed athletes were.

Decades later, being a lefty is still cool, despite all the things a southpaw (there are even cool synonyms for "left-handed") will tell you make life difficult. For instance, most tools are made for right-handers. Also, our writing style means left-handers drag their hands across what they've just written, scissors are made for righties and credit cards are swiped on the right side of the machine. And don't get them started on spiral-bound notebooks.

The conclusion? Who cares, because lefties seem cool, particularly in sports: The lefty quarterback. The lefty jump shot. A left-handed pitcher.

I worked at it, teaching myself to bat left-handed in the way many in my generation did: Wiffle ball, with a light bat.

But I didn't just grab a plastic bat and hit lefty. I had a plan – one I also used while learning how to throw lefty and shoot a basketball left-handed: I watched myself in the mirror. I observed how it looked when I batted, threw or shot right-handed, then mimicked it with my left hand.

I was a weird kid.

Learning how to do things with the opposite hand is not easy. It takes repetition. But I wanted things to look the same lefty as they were when I did them right-handed.

My sister was a lefty, so we had a left-handed baseball mitt. After practicing the throwing motion over and over in front of a mirror, I went out and threw a tennis ball against a wall lefty until it felt kind of normal. Kind of normal. I had to practice.

Same with shooting a basketball. I practiced shooting lefty on our driveway hoop. Over and over.

The result? I got pretty good doing sports lefty, almost as good as I could do things right-handed. (Offsetting fact: I wasn't very good right-handed at hitting, throwing or shooting a basketball, so the bar was low.)

I extended the left-handed obsession beyond sports. I taught myself how to write lefty. I brushed my teeth lefty. I learned how to use a spoon and fork lefty.

Decades later, I benefit from that childhood obsession. I never got a whiff of announcing for the Giants, I listen to the Commodores and still have bad hair, but I can do some things lefty.

When I hurt my right shoulder a few years ago, I realized could still throw things and shoot a basketball. It was awkward, but the practice from decades earlier helped. (Offsetting fact: At my age, you're rarely asked to throw something or shoot a basketball.)

Still, my junior high obsession led to one of my greatest natural skills: I quickly identify left-handed people on movies and TV shows. I shout out, "he's a lefty!" or "she's left-handed!" to Mrs. Brad.

It's not the same as being able to throw 80 mph left-handed, but it's something.

I guess.

Reach Lefty Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.