In Little League, no one wanted to play second base. Second sackers were too small to play first, too weak to make the throw from second or third, and too slow to cover the outfield. Playing second base was insulting. It was the coach calling you a runt and good-for-nothing small person in front of your family, your friends, and the scouts you knew were watching you from afar.
Which, if you think about it, explains why every good second baseman ever plays like a reincarnated Napoleon Bonaparte or at least like the Tasmanian Devil in stirrups.
The Reds’ current logjam of having four promising second basemen and one Alex Blandino becomes both a luxury and a sociological conundrum.