Baseball and Commitment

by William D. Esteb

I was confiding my frustration with an associate the other day, complaining that many of my projects weren't getting off the ground or enjoying the success I thought they should. His advice was a harpoon of truth that not only got me out of feeling sorry for myself, but the techniques he revealed to renew my commitment may be helpful to you.

"It's a question of commitment," he said over his breakfast meeting pancakes in a way that suggested how obvious the solution was to him.

"Commitment?" I volunteered, not recognizing the brilliance of his insight. "Why is it always so hard to self-diagnose?" I asked myself.

"Sure, you're going through what I did, trying this, dabbling in that, launching projects and waiting for the thunderous applause to help you make up your mind as to which project or idea to fully invest your life spirit in."

That hurt. But secretly I knew he was right. While I had been patting myself on the back for all my recent output, it hadn't given me the fulfillment I desired.

"What do you mean, life spirit?" I asked coyly giving me time to search for something less personal to blame.

"Life spirit, 100%, 'the juice,' going for it; passion. Investing everything you've got in the belief you've got a winner. You can't hold anything back. Ever been bankrupt?" he asked, seemingly changing the subject.

"No," I answered proudly.

"Too bad. We probably wouldn't be having this discussion if you'd ever gone through bankruptcy," he said. "If you had, you'd be dangerous because with your ideas, your skills, and ability to communicate them, you wouldn't fear failure."

I took another bite of my waffle, savoring the food and the food for thought as my mind went racing. He was right. I had been conditioned to be "right." Our culture taught me to be right. The more right answers on a test in school, the better you were. Too many wrong answers and you failed. To avoid failure you had to be right over 50% of the time. Yet, using the same scale you'd be reading this by candlelight because Edison would never have made the hundreds of tries (and failures) needed to find the right material for a light bulb filament.

Yes, I was afraid of failure. I'd been hedging my bet so I'd have an out; a way of saving face. By keeping my distance from my project and not giving it 100% I could always deny my relationship to my project, idea, or creative offspring. If you judged my idea you were judging me. Yet, if I distanced myself from my creations (your practice, your volume, your patient visit average, post X-ray changes, etc.) I could protect my fragile ego.

To compensate I became a victim of over achievement. I started creating more and more and doing more and more while diluting my impact. Statistically things looked good, but I missed the satisfaction that comes from 100% commitment.

"Few people hit home runs every time at bat and few people come up with ideas that take off without effort or total commitment," he said.

"Yeah, I've heard the one about Babe Ruth striking out all those times," I quickly volunteered, hoping to keep the discussion off of baseball and on a more practical level.

Instead of Ruth, he told me about Ted Williams, the only major league baseball player with a lifetime batting average of .400. Apparently he had 10/20 vision; better than most people. It is thought his enhanced vision helped him to see the ball more clearly and judge whether a pitch was within the strike zone. Williams was known for not swinging at pitches outside the strike zone. In a rare interview Williams was asked why. "You'd probably still hit a lot of them and have an even higher batting average," the sports writer conjectured.

"But then I'd never know where to draw the line," answered Williams.

My mind was racing. Apparently commitment is the result of knowing where to draw the line. If you've clearly identified your values, you can set absolute standards for your conduct and improve your ability to make the right decision during moments of stress or conflict. This focus (10/20) comes from having a clearly identified value system. Gone is the opportunity chasing and the fragmentation that is all too often the symptoms of a lack of commitment.

"I think you've made an accurate observation," I volunteered slowly, feeling more lost and dejected with each passing moment. It was of little consolation that I was experiencing the very normal state of depression that signals the personal growth before an important breakthrough. "So what's the next step," I asked, already knowing the answer.

"What do you want? Why do you want to do it? How do you want to do it? With whom do you want to do it? What result do you want for having done it?" he asked, parroting off the same five components of a statement of purpose I used to teach.

Suddenly I heard myself make the same argument I had heard from doctors at seminars, "Yeah, but I don't need philosophy, I need to know what to do right now." Even my voice was taking on the tinge of desperateness I had heard so frequently in private, one-on-one consultations.

Recognizing there weren't any shortcuts, I began the process of inspecting my statement of purpose. And I discovered something about myself that I had diagnosed in a doctor just weeks earlier: I'm a poor delegator. Without delegating to employees to carry out portions of my vision, I am limited by what I can do personally. Sound familiar?

As he finished his pancakes in silence and I my waffles, I was deep in thought. I was comforted by the friendship that didn't demand filling the air with conversation.

"So you think it's just a matter of commitment?" I volunteered distantly.

"Yup."

"And if I get committed, success, and recognition will follow?"

"Right."

"So, what's the first step?"

"Act as if you already have it," he said cleaning the last of the maple syrup off his plate.

"Pretend? Isn't that a lot like lying?"

"No, it's visualizing the outcome you want. It's modeling the desirable behavior you see in someone else that you'd like to have in yourself. It's related to identifying your purpose. It's a form of goal setting."

"How do I act like I'm already committed?" I asked growing interested in the process as much as the outcome.

"Describe to me some of the characteristics of a committed person. Give me the names of some of the people you recognize as being committed."

"Ralph Nader. Mother Teresa. Jack Kemp. Frank Lloyd Wright. William F. Buckley."

"Good. What are some of the characteristics of the people you named?"

"Well, they all seem to have a passion about them," I volunteered.

"What else?"

"They each seem attached to some type of cause," I said thinking out loud. "They have a point of view."

"And?"

"I suppose some people viewed them as different. Even disagree with them."

"Bingo," he said. "Imagine the courage of an Edison who keeps trying. Or the confrontation that results from a woman like Mother Teresa who does the kinds of things all of us should be doing. Or the self-confidence of a Nader who keeps pushing up against the largest corporations."

It is said the truly happy people are people who are bothered. They have a cause. The meaning they derive from life is attached to something larger than what they can accomplish by themselves, for themselves. Only until you are bothered by something can you have the commitment necessary for success.

What's bothering you?

Buy the book
My Report of Findings
Originally published in 1993
240 Pages
US $24.95

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