It can be a bit embarrassing for me – my lack of sports knowledge. When “the guys” start talking football, basketball, and especially baseball my brain does a time out. I’ve developed a lot of interests over the years, but sports didn’t make the cut, so to speak. Unless, of course, my grandkids are playing. Then I’m all in.
When I was working in radio, a friend who loves baseball and knows many of the players asked me once if I’d like to interview some of the players for a radio broadcast we were doing together. Of course, most guys would have jumped at the chance, but I told him that he’d probably better do it himself. You see, I had a bad experience with the game when I was eight years old which I’ll tell you about in a moment. After that I never quite recovered what little interest I had in the sport. So my knowledge of baseball could be placed in a catcher’s mitt and still have room left over for several balls. I was afraid that if I did interview the players I might ask them questions that would reveal to the audience my sad lack of expertise. Questions like, “So what exactly do you players do to stay busy during the time between hits when nothing is going on? Because, frankly, it does seem like you guys do a lot of standing around.”
You can see why I declined the opportunity.
Years later the radio network I served at hosted a listener appreciation night at the Arizona Diamondback’s ballpark. Mainly, I attended for the fellowship and, okay…the hotdogs. Several innings into the game everyone stood up. So, following their lead, I started picking up my stuff preparing to leave. Someone in my group said, “Where are you going?” Noticing I was the only one leaving and that everyone but me was singing, I said, “The game’s over, right?”
“No,” he responded incredulously, “It’s just the 7th inning stretch.”
Mortified, I sat back down and probably mumbled the tune along with the crowd, Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” yet inwardly thinking, This will be the last time anyone wants to take me out to a ballgame.
When I was a Little Leaguer in the early sixties I happened to be interviewed by a reporter for a local newspaper. When he asked me what my favorite position was I responded, “Batter.” He laughed and jotted my answer down on his notepad. I had no idea why my answer was so funny to him, but it did make the paper the next day. You can probably tell that when it comes to baseball, I obviously don’t get it.
Maybe it all started during that game I “played” in 1961. I was the right fielder (at least I think that’s what the position is called) for the Tankers. Our coach wasn’t what I would call the most patient guy. He was a cigar-chompin’, gruff-talkin’, baseball-lovin’ guy’s guy. Very intimidating.
There wasn’t a whole lot to do in right field, of course, so I served my sentence there in more productive pursuits – reviewing that morning’s Saturday cartoons or fashioning a whistle out of a blade of grass. So when I heard the crack of a bat followed by a small white orb hurling my direction you can imagine my shock. It bounced a few times (after all, I wasn’t about to get near it while it was airborne) and I picked it up. I can still remember standing there with the ball in my hand, dumbfounded, watching the runner round the bases, and me not having a clue what to do with the ball.
The other thing I remember was my coach screaming my name. “Robison, Robison…throw the ball!!!!” I’m pretty sure there was another word or two he used which I won’t repeat here.
I had no objection to complying with his suggestion. I simply had no idea where to throw it or why I should throw it. It occurred to me in that embarrassing moment that I may have missed the lesson on “Where and Why to Throw the Ball.” Or maybe I was never told.
Discouraged…and bored…I quit in the middle of the season never to return to Little League.
Maybe there’s a simple but important lesson here for all of us. Most people are brought up being told what to do and what not to do – “how to throw the ball” – so to speak. But all too often we aren’t taught as kids – and later in life we don’t focus on – the “where and why” of the game of life. In other words, the importance of playing the long game – cultivating a desire to know where to go in life and why it’s so important to get there.
Whether finances, relationships, careers, health, spiritual growth…or anything in life, playing the long game is your best shot at hitting the ball out of the park.
Rod Robison is a Tucson, Arizona based mentalist, magician, author, and speaker. More about Rod Robison’s magic and mentalism shows, inspirational seminars, and sales training at www.TucsonMentalist.com
