The pickleball fever that has swept the United States in recent years reached Mookie Betts sometime in January. The game had become his favorite extracurricular activity during spring training, and he arranged to have a private court built on the lawn of his home in the Los Angeles suburb of Encino. The project was completed in late June, about a week after he had broken his left hand after being hit by a player. The timing was perfect. Betts had quickly replaced one obsession—learning to play shortstop, arguably the toughest position in his sport—with another: throwing plastic balls with 16-inch paddles.

“I’m the type of person who can’t sit still, and I don’t act that way,” Bates said.

Betts’ season was as dynamic as his actions. It began when he was poised to become a full-time second baseman, after eight seasons and six Gold Gloves in right field, only to be switched to shortstop less than a week before he and the rest of the Los Angeles Dodgers traveled to South Korea to open their season. Betts spent the next three months trying to make the kind of mid-career positional change that no player of his stature had ever attempted before, then spent the next eight weeks rehabbing an unfortunate injury — only to be moved back to right field and settled into second in the lineup.

When Betts went down on June 16, he led the National League in wins against a replacement. Since returning on Aug. 12, he’s ranked fourth in win-added potential. He’s producing at his usual level, with a .293/.377/.500 batting line, 19 home runs and 16 stolen bases in 111 games. But his value to the Dodgers this year has been both satisfying and efficient. He’s moved from the bullpen, where he’s started 80 percent of his career, and helped pave the way for Shohei Ohtani’s unprecedented 50/50 season. And he’s moved around the infield to accommodate the Dodgers’ roster construction.

“I don’t think you can quantify his willingness to move the field,” Dodgers manager Dave Roberts said. “You just don’t see superstars willing to put themselves on the field to fail. And there’s no place on the field where you’re more vulnerable than at center fielder.”

There’s a part of Bates that misses the shortstop. He misses sweating it out in those early afternoon hours while receiving ground balls from every conceivable angle. He misses sitting on the grass with coaches and analyzing his footwork on a tablet that records his every move. He misses asking veteran quarterback Miguel Rojas questions about how to handle the various situations that arise in a game. He misses immersing himself in something new and exciting and challenging.

“I’ve had the time of my life,” said Bates, 31.

He also learned something about himself.

“I’m much stronger than I thought. I can do more things than I thought.”

Betts had spent most of his time in Los Angeles yearning to return to second base, where he had spent most of his time in the minor leagues. He finally got his wish before the 2024 season, with Jason Heyward looking like a reasonable option for semi-regular playing time at right back. But then Gavin Lux’s throwing problems resurfaced following knee surgery, and suddenly, just days into March, the Dodgers were in trouble.

The only way they could keep their most talented lineup was for Pitts to somehow learn how to play shortstop — opening himself up to criticism and making himself vulnerable at the peak of his powers.

Bates saw this as an opportunity to confront fear.

“On the other side of that fear and all the criticism, there’s joy and beauty,” Bates said. “And that’s where my mind was saying, ‘Get over this. Once you get over it, it’s going to be great.’”

Often self-deprecating and sometimes self-loathing, Pitts is a trait that helped him discover his athletic greatness at 5-foot-9, 180 pounds. His foray into the quarterback position, a job that satisfied his constant need for challenge, brought out his most extreme precision. But the difficulty of the job, and the scrutiny that surrounded it, helped him find balance.

“I wasn’t going to criticize myself when everyone else was doing it,” Bates said. “It wasn’t me and everyone else against me, that’s for sure. It was me against the world in that moment. That’s what I really learned — how to be your own cheerleader. How to be your own best friend.”

Betts committed nine errors in 61 games at left fielder, all but one of them on throws. Some advanced metrics didn’t rate him as good. But he was adequate. And he was steadily improving. Dodgers outfield coach Dino Ebel believes he could have been a Gold Glove contender there eventually if he had continued to improve the footwork required to make throws from certain angles.

“Unfortunately we didn’t get to that part, but I think we were on our way, man. I’m proud of myself for taking on the challenge that comes with that,” Bates said.

If it weren’t for the 98-mph fastball that passed through his hands in mid-June, Betts would have stayed at left back and probably given Ohtani a shot at the MVP award. But Betts didn’t spend much time lamenting the injury. He appreciated the rare time he got to spend with his family; how it helped him bond with his 17-month-old son, Kaj. He also cherished all the pickleball games he played with his wife, Brianna, a tradition we’ve become accustomed to after home games throughout the season.

By the time Betts was healthy enough to return, Otani was thriving at first base and Roberts was beginning to see the benefit of using the right-handed Betts to separate the left-handed Otani and Freddie Freeman at the top of his lineup. At that point, Rojas, the team’s best defensive player, was in the midst of a great offensive year, Lux had turned his season around while solidifying himself at second base and Heyward’s bat had slowed.

“The thing that keeps Mookie going is some challenges, but I think he’s smart enough to understand the roster, our club landscape and what makes sense for our club,” Roberts said. “And at that point, it was clear he needed to move to right field.”

Given the uncertainty around the starting lineup—Tyler Glasnow and Gavin Stone are out; Clayton Kershaw is still recovering; and Jack Flaherty, Yoshinobu Yamamoto and Walker Buehler have all had their fair share of struggles—the Dodgers will likely have to win offensively in October. Betts should be the catalyst. There have been encouraging signs lately.

Twice, an opponent intentionally chose to walk Otani to throw to Betts instead. And twice, Betts made them pay—with a triple in the 10th inning off Angel Stadium on September 3 and a single in the ninth off Atlanta on September 15. Seven days later, in a come-from-behind win against the Colorado Rockies, Betts hit his first home run as a Dodgers player right after Otani tied the game in the ninth.

Betts has thrived in the big moments throughout his career, though he has collected just two hits in 25 attempts during his last two series—both of which ended in stunning shutouts. He believes this year he has a certain ease in dealing with tough situations. He trusts his preparation and lives by its results, taking the guesswork out of it. It’s a transformation.

“I definitely learned all that,” Betts said. “I was a lot tougher on myself before. I had to get ready to hit second base. I had to get ready to play center field. I had to do this. I had to do that.”

Maybe it was the fear of failure. Or maybe, as Bates said, “it wasn’t enough to see through that fear to get to the other side.

“Now I’m a little older. Now I realize that whatever fears I have, I face them head on.”

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