Baseball teaches life, and he taught me that everything matters in both baseball and life.
—
“Everything matters,” he would say quietly and firmly. “Everything.”
I hung up on him the first time he called. Not out of distaste or frustration, but because I nearly pissed my pants.
“Is this John? This is Dayton Moore from the Kansas City Royals.”
Click. Piss. Flush.
A mentor of mine had recommended me to the General Manager of the Kansas City Royals. Dayton was looking for an assistant coach for his son’s baseball team, so he called me.
I was at school in Illinois when he called. A sophomore in college, ambitious to become a general manager of a professional baseball team one day.
After washing my hands, I called him back.
“I’d like you to come to Kansas City this weekend to meet,” he said. “Can you do that?”
I sped to Kansas City, where he had me run part of his practice. He liked what he saw, and told me that I had a spot with him for next season.
I sped back to Illinois, collecting a $200 ticket for going 85 in a 65. Whatever! I was pumped.
I stuck to Dayton’s hip for three months, learning about baseball and life.
This was an amazing opportunity to learn from a real life GM every day for three months. And all I had to do was coach 11 year olds! What! This would be a breeze. This would be so easy. This would be a piece of cake.
He was completely passionate about his work, and it showed.
|
I listened in to several of his phone calls as he made player decisions. Little did I know, I witnessed him building a team that would go to the World Series in a couple years. We’d listen to the Royals’ game on the radio on our way to his son’s game. If the other team would hit a home run, he’d shut the radio off for 30 seconds to decompress. In reality, I knew he wasn’t just decompressing; he was wondering if he should trade his pitcher!
He was completely passionate about his work, and it showed. And he taught me that everything matters in baseball and life.
He taught me that the best four pitches in baseball were fastballs up and in, down and in, up and away, and down and away. He taught me how to read a hitter’s hands to spot tendencies.
We’d shift the outfielders from left to right for nearly every batter. We’d track everything that happened, from pitch calls to play calls. We’d look for patterns in the game. For perspective, these are fairly advanced aspects of the game for 11 year olds.
But Dayton had his reasons.
He told me once, “If they get it, then they get it. Mentally, they’ll be way ahead of any other player once everybody catches up physically. If they don’t get it, then they’re so young that they don’t know that they don’t get it.”
Still, he didn’t sweat the small stuff.
For example, a bad call by an umpire could throw you off your game or you could choose to ignore it. Even better, you could use that bad call in your favor by using it as fuel.
The pitcher might shake his leg after a pitch. That could mean he’s hurt, and it could mean that he has a wedgy.
My dad used to tell me that the devil is in the details, so pay attention. He’s a lawyer, which makes it no surprise that he’s always thinking about the fine print. Others have told me that I shouldn’t sweat the small stuff. That’s advice people usually give when I’m in a bad mood or frustrated with a slow-moving project.
There’s a way to balance these two approaches.
◊♦◊
These two concepts don’t have to battle each other. In many cases, they work very well together.
Think about a large oil painting that hangs on a museum wall. We can stand back and see the big picture, but we lose something if we don’t get close to study the artist’s strokes. The strokes matter, and so does the big picture the strokes created.
When Dayton said that everything matters, what he meant was that everything could matter.
|
Dayton taught me that everything matters. We played in the dirt on the baseball field, literally and metaphorically. We got our hands dirty. We watched the little things.
But we didn’t worry about everything.
That’s the key. Our attention to detail didn’t slow us down. In fact, it let us act faster because we had a better understanding of the big picture. We knew what made the bigger picture work. When Dayton said that everything matters, what he meant was that everything could matter.
Ultimately it’s up to you to decide what affects you and what doesn’t.
—
Photo: Flickr/Mr.512