The Sporkball Journals

What Do We Teach About Winning?

February 1st, 2009

February 01, 2009 — What is it about human nature that craves to be part of the in-group, I’ve always wondered? I didn’t give it much thought prior to my college years, maybe because I was a hopelessly geeky, clumsy, bookworm. It was in the larger fishbowl of the college campus I first noticed how much physical discomfort and personal embarrassment people were willing to suffer, just so they would be accepted into the right sorority or fraternity.

After leaving school behind, I discovered the charisma of coolness manifests in other ways—money, power, sex, fame.

It’s the last type that seems to have the most influence over bloggers of baseball. If you crave public acknowledgment as a sabermetrician, chances are your blog will boast of comprehensive and/or practical stats. Armchair scouts will highlight in-depth interviews of players and coaches. Armchair GMs can boast of knowledgeable analyses and professional expertise.

Me? Oh, my motives are fame-based as well. I’m a writer; this is another page of my portfolio.  I suppose I could have picked any topic to blog about. Considering how many hours I spend each spring/summer at the ballpark, though, I’d be crazy to waste all that data collection. Besides, what better way to learn the finer points of the game I love than to turn in a weekly homework assignment?

It’s not all about fame, I must admit. It’s certainly about sharing ideas and experiences that extend beyond the playing field. Like it or not, we Americans put an inordinate social value on victory, sports-related in particular. And so when I think about sports, I am also thinking about life. I can’t help it.

And this “other agenda” is what leads me to write about athletes who might not be the bonus babies or five-tools guys or clubhouse leaders (although the last reason is more likely to catch my interest). Nor am I always looking for the underdog either, because let’s face it, life doesn’t follow a Disneyland script.

Take for example last year’s Pioneer League Championships. The “good guys” didn’t win the final game. There were no stories of redemption or inspiration. There’s nothing in the boxscores to indicate anything wonderful happened back in September of 2008. In fact, most of the press coverage focused on what went wrong with the team having the season’s best win-loss record. However, having been there, I would summarize what happened to be something else entirely.

In late August, Orem Owlz manager Tom Kotchman had to leave the team for a family emergency. Brenton Del Chiaro, in his first season coaching organized baseball, was promoted to interim manager. The rookie manager and his rookie ballplayers finished out the regular season playing .500 ball (10W-5L). The team advanced through the playoffs and into the final three-game championship series against the Great Falls Voyagers.

The second game of the Pioneer League championship series was an amazing extra-innings, come-from-behind victory for the Owlz that forced the series to the third and deciding contest. The next evening, I drove back to Orem and watched the Voyagers win game three and the championship. The ensuing media coverage predictably attributed the defeat to a few factors: vulnerability of a three-game series to a few strokes of good/bad luck, too many defensive mistakes and not enough hitting by the Owlz, and the missing Kotchman, whose decades of experience might have saved the day.

Perhaps. . . .

It seems to me that focusing on why the Owlz lost misses the point of minor-league baseball, or any developmental athletic league. The purpose of a minor-league organization is to build championship individuals, not baseball dynasties; it’s the polar opposite of a major-league organization.

It’s easy to forget this fact while reading, hearing or watching sports blogs and news feeds. Analysts make their living deconstructing boxscores down to one at-bat, sometimes even a single pitch. In April, they chart the progress of the latest crop of prospects, calculating their statistical strengths and weaknesses to the third power. As October draws near, they look for historical trends, comparing the first half to second half of the season. It all seems so clear, so logical, so concrete. The bottom line is the numbers don’t lie.

Except, since when is anything in life that reliable? You know the answer already, of course. Never. Life is messy. We screw up. A lot. And quite often, life screws us up through no fault of our own doing.

For yours truly, at any rate, quantifying a loss down to a statistical probability misses the larger view of athletic competition as a process. From this perspective, loss begets opportunity. In other words, “What have we learned about ourselves through failure? And are we able to grow beyond our personal disappointment?”

One unforgettable night in Orem, I watched a 13-inning rite of passage, cleverly disguised as a baseball game. The next night, during late innings of the losing end of a championship game, free-swinging-power-slugging-19-year-old Angel Castillo drew a base on balls—out of just 18 BB for the entire season. That private victory could have professional value in the future of a young ballplayer.

We’re humans, not robots. We make mistakes because we’re imperfect. And we grow emotionally, mentally and spiritually as a result of hardships, not ease. And it’s our response to these challenges that determines what life lessons stick with us, and ultimately what sort of winners we are in the bigger picture of being parents, spouses, citizens, neighbors and friends.

Likewise, the coach who says, “In order to win, you need to execute,” has already put the cart before the horse. My idea of a better developmental philosophy comes across thusly, “You need to execute because that’s your job.”

So why is this difference in coaching styles so important? Because for those of us privileged enough to have worked with young athletes, this attitude defines our multiple roles as coach, guide, mentor and role model.

I believe this is the larger message affixed to Branch Rickey’s famous quote, “Luck is the residue of design.” It’s all about being ready when that window of opportunity appears. I believe this message is at the core of organized baseball as well. Do your job right, live up to your responsibilities and good things will follow.

Whether it’s on the diamond, at the grocery store or in the boardroom, it’s all about how we execute, day-in, day-out, until we draw our last breath on this earth. Bye for now!

Entry Filed under: Game of Life, Minor Leagues, Orem Owlz