I know I’ve been negligent. I still don’t think anyone actually reads this crap so I don’t feel too bad about not updating for a while. I’m having a baby very soon. So right now, I’m just trying to appease the good hormonal instincts (like the ones the birdies have about building their nests) and repress the bad ones (like the ones that black widow spiders have about killing their mates).
Sporadic posting is better than no posting. I will update dribs and drabs until my life becomes normal again. I don’t know when that will be, if ever, so just keep checking this space, faithful readers. I thank you both.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Not Everything That Counts Can Be Measured
It’s hard for me to avoid baseball this time of year. My husband and his family are big baseball fans. My dad obsessively watches the Phillies. Many of my closest friends are big baseball fans as well.
It’s not that I hate baseball. I just find it to be very slow. It makes me sleepy. My dad used to watch Phillies games on Sunday afternoons while dozing on the couch. I think I’ve been conditioned to do the same thing. Besides, it’s a game of numbers and statistics. And we all know that I hate statistics.
Tonight, one of those statistics should have been but never came to be due to human error. Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga pitched what should have been the 21st perfect game in history. However, when umpire Jim Joyce blew a call on what should have been the last play of the game, his perfect game was blown.
What unfolded after these events is what truly surprised me.
When the press interviewed these two men, they both acted in ways that were refreshing in this day and age. In a time when we have athletic stars who are overpaid egomaniacs, Galarraga smiled and told reporters that he was sure that no one felt worse about the call than the umpire. Here is a guy who had a chance to be a positive historical statistic, make a name for himself and ensure his induction as a hall of fame player. The odds of him ever accomplishing such an achievement again are nil. Most people would be angry, not smiling and practically saying that they felt bad for the guy who made the mistake.
Also, in a society where people are quick to pass the buck and refuse to be accountable for their actions, Jim Joyce remorsefully owned up to his mistake. He admitted that he was wrong at the time of the call. With instant replay, it was easy to see. But in person, from his perspective, perhaps it was not as clear-cut. He’s just a man with his two eyes. Men make mistakes. Great men admit them.
This is the kind of sportsmanship we always teach but rarely see in practice. This is a great lesson for our children. Galarraga’s sportsmanship teaches empathy and to see things from the other person’s point of view when facing conflict. Joyce shows us that admitting our wrongs is the right thing to do.
This is the stuff fables are made of. Sure, this will not go down in the records as a historical moment. But the way the men interacted teaches a lesson far beyond statistics.
It’s not that I hate baseball. I just find it to be very slow. It makes me sleepy. My dad used to watch Phillies games on Sunday afternoons while dozing on the couch. I think I’ve been conditioned to do the same thing. Besides, it’s a game of numbers and statistics. And we all know that I hate statistics.
Tonight, one of those statistics should have been but never came to be due to human error. Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga pitched what should have been the 21st perfect game in history. However, when umpire Jim Joyce blew a call on what should have been the last play of the game, his perfect game was blown.
What unfolded after these events is what truly surprised me.
When the press interviewed these two men, they both acted in ways that were refreshing in this day and age. In a time when we have athletic stars who are overpaid egomaniacs, Galarraga smiled and told reporters that he was sure that no one felt worse about the call than the umpire. Here is a guy who had a chance to be a positive historical statistic, make a name for himself and ensure his induction as a hall of fame player. The odds of him ever accomplishing such an achievement again are nil. Most people would be angry, not smiling and practically saying that they felt bad for the guy who made the mistake.
Also, in a society where people are quick to pass the buck and refuse to be accountable for their actions, Jim Joyce remorsefully owned up to his mistake. He admitted that he was wrong at the time of the call. With instant replay, it was easy to see. But in person, from his perspective, perhaps it was not as clear-cut. He’s just a man with his two eyes. Men make mistakes. Great men admit them.
This is the kind of sportsmanship we always teach but rarely see in practice. This is a great lesson for our children. Galarraga’s sportsmanship teaches empathy and to see things from the other person’s point of view when facing conflict. Joyce shows us that admitting our wrongs is the right thing to do.
This is the stuff fables are made of. Sure, this will not go down in the records as a historical moment. But the way the men interacted teaches a lesson far beyond statistics.
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