OPINION|
Ah, summer baseball. Lots of memories, one in particular from 52 years ago.
My four younger brothers and I grew up in a baseball household. We played other sports, but baseball was our Dad’s favorite sport and we followed his lead. Baseball remains our favorite.
We all started playing organized baseball around age nine. There were only nine years between my youngest brother and me, so there were a lot of games during the summer, peaking at about 135 in 1971 when all five of us were playing. That translated into lots of driving miles, lots of quick showers before the hot water ran out, lots of uniforms to wash, lots of midnight hotdogs after late games, and lots of cold Pepsi in glass bottles, our beverage of choice.
All five of us played in the summer through junior high, four of us played summer ball during high school, and three of us played in college and during summers while in college. Our teams were usually competitive. Collectively, we did have a few championship seasons, as well as some real stinkers we’d just as soon forget.
Team sports offer opportunities to learn
Beyond the immediate competition, baseball gave us the opportunity to learn life lessons, which is true of all sports, but more so with team sports. I am confident we didn’t fully appreciate those lessons at the time. Perspective comes with age. Here is some of what we had a chance to learn:
- Appreciating the value of physical fitness
- Being humble in winning and gracious in losing
- Using failure as extra incentive to improve
- Being both a good leader and good follower, depending on the situation
- Being a good teammate with a diverse group of people, including some you may not even like
- Understanding performance-based decisions
- Accepting accountability
- Learning to take criticism, constructive and otherwise
- Appreciating the importance of practice
- Realizing that you could use a little luck once in awhile
- Respecting authority and following the rules
- Coming to grips with the fact that no matter how good you are, there is always someone better
- Learning to control emotions and appropriately channel aggression
- Dealing effectively with media
No doubt there are other activities that can help provide these same lessons, but none are quite as effective as sports. And, granted, for some of us the lessons took longer to sink in than for others.
(By the way, this is the significance of Title IX, which was passed in 1972. Title IX gives girls and young women the opportunity to fully benefit from participating in sports and other activities. Women say these experiences have contributed to them becoming successful CEOs, entrepreneurs, corporate board members, elected leaders, and more.)
One lesson still stands out
Of all the lessons I learned from playing baseball, there is one that stands out.
We grew up in Mission, Kan., a suburb of Kansas City. In the summer of 1971, I played for Olathe’s Connie Mack League team for 16- to 18-year-olds. Back then, Olathe was a small community 17 miles south of Mission on Interstate 35.
From the last week of May until the first week of August — about 10 weeks — we played 58 games, finishing 42-16. The schedule included a 10-day trip for games in Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, and Colorado, plus a weekend trip for games in Illinois. The typical week included seven-inning games Wednesday and/or Friday, a doubleheader of seven-inning games Saturday, and three seven-inning games on Sunday — a doubleheader with one team and a single game with another.
Nearly all the games were played on dirt infields, so by the third game Sundays in July, the spikes felt like they were attached to the soles of your feet.
With that many games, pitching was a challenge. We had 10 players who pitched and had at least one decision, five of whom had at least three decisions. The starting position players had between 125-150 official at-bats.
Our archrival was the Frank Waters team from Kansas City, Kan. After tying for the league championship in the regular season, we lost to them in an extra-inning playoff game for the right to advance to the regional tournament. But it was during the mid-year game with Frank Waters on its home field where I learned a valuable life lesson.
One out short of losing the game
I was the starting pitcher for that game and I hadn’t pitched as well as I wanted. I gave up a solo home run, and an infield error allowed two more runs to score. Going into the top of the seventh inning, the final inning, we were behind, 3-1. Our first two batters both struck out and the situation looked hopeless. I was disgusted that we were losing to a team we disliked and needed to beat to stay in first place. I let my emotions get the best of me. I took off my spikes, put them in my travel bag, and put on my tennis shoes so I would be ready to exit as soon as the game was over.
By then, I was old enough (18), had played organized baseball enough years (nine), and had umpired enough games (about 50) to know better. But like I said, I was in a lousy mood.
As you might have guessed by now, two Frank Waters errors, a walk, and a timely hit later, we took the lead, 4-3. I hastily put my spikes back on and went to the mound for the bottom of the seventh. To repent for my premature pessimism, and thanks to a tremendous adrenaline rush, we had a three-up, three-down inning. The team, coaches and fans celebrated the improbable win while I tried to get over the embarrassment of giving up too soon.
Since then, for situations that required commitment and persistence in my personal life, with my family, and in my career, I remembered the lesson from that night and quoted it often to co-workers and others:
Never put your spikes away too early.
