In this game of endless adjustments, even the greatest sometimes stumble. For Mookie Betts — already a World Series champion, an MVP, an eight-time All-Star, and a six-time Gold Glover — the move to shortstop last season was humbling. “Last year, playing shortstop was pretty much a fail,” Betts admitted with refreshing honesty. But failure, for Betts, is not a resting place. It’s fuel.

As the rain tapped gently on the tarp at Citi Field last weekend, Betts could be found, as usual, grinding. Working alongside Dodgers infield instructor Chris Woodward, he repeated the same daily drills — knee work, glove work, the basics of the craft — over and over. Here, beneath the big-league lights, was one of baseball’s most gifted athletes, humbling himself like a prospect trying to earn a roster spot. “Every day, I’m working,” Betts said simply. And slowly, the work has borne fruit.

The conversion hasn’t come easily. Shortstop is, in many ways, the quarterback position of baseball — every pitch, every angle, every hop matters. The physical strain, the mental fatigue, and the relentless demand for precision have taxed Betts in ways unfamiliar even to him. As his instructor Woodward put it, “You can’t take a pitch off. Not one.” And at 32 years old, Betts is fighting not only the demands of the position but also Father Time himself.

For perspective, consider Betts’ contemporaries. Carlos Correa, the smooth-fielding Twins star, has seen his bat decline as his legs absorb the mileage of years at shortstop. Trevor Story, once a star in his own right, has struggled to stay healthy and productive. Betts, generously listed at 5-foot-10, may not have the natural build of a shortstop, but his athletic gifts and competitive fire have propelled him forward. “It’s fun when it’s something I’ve never done,” Betts said. “You embrace and enjoy those challenges.”

And now, those early struggles have given way to steady progress. This year, Betts ranks among the league leaders in Defensive Runs Saved and sits in the 91st percentile in range — remarkable for a player who hadn't played shortstop regularly since high school. His athleticism has always seemed to defy gravity — whether dominating ping pong, basketball, or bowling — but this was different. Shortstop required him to fail first, then grind his way to respectability.

Still, the wear of 162 games is real. Offensively, Betts hasn’t quite been himself yet, slashing .254/.338/.405 with eight home runs. At times, his legs have looked heavy, a possible side effect of the position's daily demands. But great players always seem to find their way back to brilliance. The Dodgers, with championship aspirations and a roster built for October, believe that Betts' bat will come — and that his glove at short has already become an unexpected stabilizer.

​​As Woodward put it, in words that carry the weight of baseball history: “That’s not a position guys come to. It’s a position guys leave.” Yet here stands Mookie Betts — embracing the challenge, rewriting his own chapter, and proving once again that even for the greats, there is always another mountain to climb.