Broken Lines
The Little League game did not start well.
Our first three batters struck out to start the game. Grown-ups in the bleachers muttered, “We can’t get any momentum going.” Eight-year-olds in the dugout just knew it looked bad. Very bad. The second inning started with a strike out. We got a runner on base, advanced him to second, then two quick outs ended that inning.
The book just looked like a series of broken lines. Kids left on base. Strike outs. Missed catches. It wasn’t pretty.
The boys, however, just kept playing. They like to win, no question, but they like to play, too. They are unmistakably eight-year-old boys. The dust that kicks up when they run off the field is mighty dang cool. The six pieces of gum that a teammate can chew at once is even more amazing.
Innings ticked by. Two runs were scored in the fourth. Two runs were scored in the sixth. Not enough to win the game exactly but plenty enough to make the little guys smile. Good game, good game, good game…right on down the line.
As the sun settled over the horizon and dusk settled over the fields, I looked at the book, and I thought: “Most of my days look like this.” It’s a swing and a miss. Ig et some momentum, move a project along, then have to stop and start over.
Broken lines.
I take a phone call and become late for a meeting. I have a great meeting, score some progress and end the day with 157 unread emails. The little red notification on my phone screams “Strike Two!”
If someone that night had said something to those little boys like, “Well, you didn’t win. I don’t even know why you showed up,” the Mama Bear in me would have turned vicious in a heartbeat. It isn’t about the runs scored. It’s about learning to play the game, having fun, getting a little better each and every day, every game, every at-bat. That’s what it’s all about. Why do so many adults forget this?
Work is no different and neither is life. It’s not about winning. It’s not about how many emails we answered or points we scored or how much money we made. It’s about playing, enjoying the game and getting better at it all the time. If we don’t kick up some dust and have some laughs along the way, then we aren’t playing right at all. Those who are only in it to win often manage to kill the fun of it all.
Looking at the book, I noted that every boy on the team but one actually got the bat on the ball at some point. Sometimes, it got him on base. Sometimes, it advanced a teammate. Sometimes, it just gave that little batter a chance to run like the wind trying to beat the throw to first.
The book of my days is messy like that, too. It’s full of broken lines. But I’m not counting strikeouts, and I’m not counting runs scored. If I win some days and lose some days but catch some fireflies in the meantime and sacrifice a hit to advance a friend, then so be it.
I’m here for the love of the game. Batter up.