“You’re going to be a pitcher.” I can still remember those words. My father’s words at my age 7. Like most dads, whether he wanted to admitted it or not, dad always had a latent desire to relive his early life, through his son… me. My dad was a pitcher at the University of Pennsylvania in the late ‘30s. From what I can remember, he was just Ok. “Ok” was never really good enough for him in anything he did. Maybe “You’re going to be a pitcher.” would give him a chance do better than “Ok”… the second time around. His son was going to be more than “Ok.”
So, we started in the driveway when I was seven. “Get your arm back!” … “Look at the target!” … “Follow through.” His instruction was right on!
Heck, I just got up right now from my chair and tried to go through that pitching motion he taught me. Almost fell over!
I threw and threw to dad in the driveway. “Hit that outside corner … right here,” he barked. As he positioned that tattered old catcher’s mitt of his on his right knee.
I was the starting pitcher on my Little League team at age 8. Even at that young age I could feel that winning each game depended a lot on me… how well I threw the ball. The pitcher put the game ball in play. Can remember the chatter of my teammates behind me. “Get it in there, Bobby boy.” … “Throw strikes.” If I didn’t, we were in trouble.
Played Little League for the next five years. Ultimately as an All Star. Our league played an All Star game one Saturday against Radnor, a neighboring league. Thought I was hot shot at age 12. I’d mow these guys down. Our game was on the 4th of July. An unusually large crowd on hand. American flags everywhere. Red, white, and blue streamers draped over the fence bordering the field. First time I really felt that kind of electricity in the air at an athletic event.
So, this cocky little all-star took the mound. I’ll never forget it. My nervousness drained me. Then this kid came to the plate.
Didn’t know his name. Just that he looked equally cocky as me when he came to bat. “Hit that outside corner.” buzzed in my ear. I threw a fast ball low on the outside corner. Could hear dad, “Good pitch, Bobby!” This guy crushed it! Man, did he ever. A rocket over second base. I never saw it until it hit the snow fence in deep right field. Wasn’t a home run. But the force of the ball broke two slats in the fence and went right through. Cocky little Bobby stared through his little eyeglasses. Looked over surprisingly at dad. No one had ever hit him that hard.
We went on to win. But dad told me after the game to go over to that kid and let him know that hit of his was special. I did. In addition to the “outside corner” this was one of those great lessons dad taught me. Be a good sport.
I continued to play baseball. Pitched in high school and college. Even a short stint in the pros. But all this pitching planted something indelible that remains with me to this day. Any success or failure I had on the pitcher’s mound was great preparation for life to follow. Cast into a leadership role when I pitched, my team depended on me. It’s been estimated that pitching is responsible for as much as 80% of winning or losing a baseball game. The pitcher was out there. By himself. You had four infielders … three outfielders … a catcher. And one pitcher. I had to be the spark plug that set everything in motion.
What did I learn. What knowledge could I pass on to my children, my grandchildren. About the value of playing sports. Any sport.
Let me list my thoughts here: You never win or lose… you only win or learn.
You always learn more from your losses than you do from your wins. …You’ll feel the sadness of losing more deeply than the joy of winning.
Those guys I’ve bonded with most closely were teammates on sports teams.
“Success is never final… failure is never fatal.”
Being professional, upstanding following a loss builds resilience and character that you will never forget.
“Poise” … composure, self assurance especially when under pressure.
Being a leader carries with it a necessary loneliness. Requires you take the risk of losing while focusing on winning.
So, I thank my dad for introducing me to pitching. One of the best things he did that helped prepare me for life. As I write this I’m sitting in Westchester Airport dealing with a four hour delay on my flight this weekend back home.
Oops! They just cancelled the flight home. I’ll be spending the night somewhere. I’ll just work it out.
My capacity for handling this situation without complaint? Can be attributed directly to the lessons I learned playing baseball …. Pitching.