A lot has been made of me changing positions. People ask when I’m going out to first base or left field. That’s possible, someday. But I’m telling you, as long as I can catch, as long as my body holds up, as long as I’m productive and as long as this is where I help our team the most, I’m not moving.

That’s because I love catching.

Sure, it’s a fact of life that catching so many games has taken something out of me late in the past few seasons. But what makes me different from all the pitchers who have to take the mound late in the year with a tired, sore arm? Nothing. That’s life. If it’s your job, you suck it up.

You've got the physical fatigue that goes along with the position, the sore hands, the tired legs, all kinds of nicks and bruises. But the mental fatigue is just as great. You beat yourself up constantly if you lose a game. Why didn't I block that ball? Why did I call that pitch? You have to be able to turn the page from one game to the next.

The stuff that goes into catching, from going through a scouting report with a pitcher to blocking balls in the dirt to calling the game, I consider a pleasure. I don't consider it work. To me, it's the essence of the game.

There's nothing like having a pitcher come to you after a game, away from the media and the rest of your teammates, and go, "Hey, helluva job today." Corny as it sounds, that gives me more satisfaction than anything. In the training room, Al Leiter comes to me and goes, "Mike, you did a great job today." Or a young pitcher like Bruce Chen, after his first game with us last year, says, "Thanks for making my job easy today." I drive home happy. I don't care what I did at the plate. That's something only a catcher can feel.

The beauty of the position is you don't have to go 3-for-4 with a home run and 3 RBIs to make an impact. And it's not like other positions in the field where you can go a whole game without making a play. I know I'm going to have a say in the outcome of every game because I'm involved in every pitch. Something that I think has been overlooked when people consider my career is that in my 10 years as a major league catcher, I've been in the postseason four times. I'm proud of that. It shows I must be doing something right back there.

The catcher sets the tone for the whole team. Eight other guys are looking to you. Even your body language is important. If a pitcher's in a jam, and I mope out to the mound because I'm 0-for-something at the plate, that sets the mood. But if I'm out there with fire in my eyes and I sprint back to the plate, everyone can feed off that. It's simplistic, but it can make a big difference.

You're the only guy who has the whole field in his vision. You're in charge. You're never just a bystander. It's unique. It's challenging. And it's my priority. It's my position. I've been fortunate to be productive offensively, but I picked up things more naturally as a hitter. Defense has been another story. Actually, it's an ongoing story.

Not everyone knows this, but in junior college I played first base. When the Dodgers were thinking about drafting me -- actually, when Tommy Lasorda, my godfather, was trying to get the Dodgers to draft me -- they didn't have a lot of catching prospects, but they had like three or four really good first base prospects. Guys like Eric Karros and Henry Rodriguez, among others. It was going to be hard for me at that position.

So after I worked out for the scouts, Tommy asked, "Are you going to draft him?" They said they weren't sure. So Tommy said, "If he was a catcher, would you draft him?" And they said yeah, of course. So Tommy said, "He's a catcher." That got me drafted. In the 62nd round. Then it was up to me to learn on the job.

We had two teams at instructional league. Every other day, each would work on fundamentals. I'd work with my team one day, then switch to the other the next. That was my choice, because I knew I had a lot to learn. And I wanted to learn a lot. I'm still that way. Anytime I see an old-time catcher, I always talk to him about throwing, blocking, calling a game. And if there's one thing I can learn, I try to use it.

If I see Johnny Bench at a golf tournament, I'll talk to him, but it doesn't have to be Johnny or Gary Carter. A guy who caught in the '80s, who was a backup -- doesn't matter. There's always something you can learn. You never stop challenging yourself to become better back there. I think it's the same for any catcher, from Gold Glovers to backup guys. It's a fraternity position. There's a bond among catchers that transcends the game.

I've been lucky to learn from guys like Roy Campanella and Johnny Roseboro in spring training with the Dodgers. I've talked to guys I grew up watching, like Steve Yeager and Bob Boone. Later on, I'd try to tap into guys I was playing against. I mean, watching Benito Santiago throwing guys out from his knees -- I love to watch him catch. Today, obviously, I watch Ivan Rodriguez, who's probably the best defensive catcher in history. But I also watch Mike Matheny and Charles Johnson. Damian Miller is a solid and underrated catcher.

The challenge is both physical and mental. You have to have the physical tools. But you have to have the mental ability -- the tenacity, the makeup, the endurance -- to stay in a positive frame of mind for your pitcher. You have to love working with your staff. I never forget the pitchers I've caught. Someone can throw out a name -- Jim Bruske -- and it's like, "I caught that guy." I remember them all. It's like I've got an encyclopedia of pitchers in my mind.

The main things you want to instill in a pitcher are trust and confidence -- not only that you're going to call the right pitches, but also that you're behind the plate working hard for him. When I caught Ramon Martinez's no-hitter in 1995, he didn't want to throw anything but fastballs after the third inning. That was something he was feeling, so I let him go. If there's something I have a real problem with, I'll go to the mound, but I'm very flexible. You can't be bullheaded. I don't mind a guy shaking me off.

If you want a pitcher to work hard for you, you've got to work hard for him. You definitely need each other to stop the running game. So much more goes into throwing guys out than just having a catcher with a strong arm. If you've got a pitcher who's not doing a good job holding a runner on, you pretty much have to call fastballs to have a chance of throwing anybody out. If a guy's holding a guy on well, then you can call anything.

The best way to build up a pitcher's confidence in you is to receive the ball well for him. Catch the ball where it is. A pitch on the corner, catch it right there. Don't catch it moving away. That can be a challenge with a guy like Al Leiter when his ball's running all over the place. But Al's most effective when his ball's moving, so I know I can't be snatching at it and taking it out of the zone. In the big leagues, there's no such thing as framing the strike zone. You can take a strike and make it a ball more often than you can catch a ball and make it a strike.

I grew up in Philadelphia watching Bob Boone, who was brilliant at just catching the ball. He didn't frame it. He just caught it the right way. Caught it with no motion. With big league umpires, you're not going to take a ball and make it a strike. If you're solid and quiet receiving the ball, then your reputation will precede you, and you'll start to get the close pitches. If you're known as a guy who's all over the place, you're not going to get the close pitches, because you'll be making them look like balls, and making the umpires' calls look questionable. And pitchers will start to feel like they have to get more of the plate with the ball. It's a recipe for disaster, especially for pitchers who throw balls with a lot of movement. Tom Candiotti once told me I'm the best guy who ever caught his knuckleball. And he'd had some very good catchers. That was flattering.

But I think because I'm known as a hitter more than a catcher, my defense is always the most scrutinized -- and least scrutinized -- part of my game. I can go out there and catch a two-hit shutout, block a ball with the tying run on third base, throw a guy out and make a play at the plate, yet no one cares because I hit a home run. See what I mean? No one's going to come up to me and go, "What about that ball you blocked?" It's always, "What about that home run?"

If I'm not hitting, and I'm catching poorly, it's always, "Mike, how much longer you going to catch?" I'm not complaining. I just think it's a fact. I just accept it as a reality and go on doing the best I can.

The offensive and defensive expectations of catching don't weigh me down, because I try to keep things very simple. I just say, Hey I'm hitting, I'll do my best at the plate. And when I'm catching, I'll do my best behind the plate. Everything else about my game, I leave for others to ponder.

In the end, I may not be the prettiest guy back there, or the most fluid, or the most graceful. But I think I get the job done in a workmanlike manner. If I'm on a winning team, and the pitchers have confidence in me, if I'm able to quarterback a game, I feel I'm doing my job. I think I'm a solid blue-collar catcher.

And if it's up to me, that's what I'll be for the rest of my career.

This article appears in the April 15 issue of ESPN The Magazine.