Learning from Losing

I promised myself I wouldn’t watch one inning of baseball this year, in my own protest about their protests. When I tune into a sporting event, it is not only to enjoy the game, but to escape reality…even if just for a few hours. 

Last week, I planned to watch Tucker Carlson’s interview with Tony Bobulinski, but I just could not stay away from what might be the last game of the World Series. 

Flipping between Tucker and MLB, I happened onto the first inning, three batters in. The Dodgers had a runner on second and one out. Blake Snell was pitching in what could have been considered a jam with the top of the Dodger's order up and runners on, in a game of slim margins and a must win situation for Tampa Bay.

I don’t know if it’s me, but some players today seem so young. They just look like little kids, Snell included. Even though he stands 6’4” and weights 215, he just does not look it to me. He looks like a little boy. Undeniable though, was the look of pure determination on his face.

I noticed a lot of pitchers have their spot at the end of the bench in the dugout emanating an aura of “don’t talk to me”, “don’t disrupt my rhythm”. Some might consider it to be standoffish, but I get it. Baseball is a game of superstitions with backwards rally caps and can’t-get-the-batting-gloves-tight-enough at the plate. Any element of change can alter the outcome of the outing, especially in the mind of a pitcher.

I know. I used to play softball and I pitched. Not your out-for-a-Sunday-pick-up-game, but hard-core ball. My team took it as seriously as any World Series. Every game had the same level of intensity and a deep-rooted desire to win.  

As a pitcher, I had the same superstitions. I could face anyone at the plate, the bigger the better for me. I passionately believed no one could beat me at my game. I could tell whether you would be getting your bat on the ball or walking back to the dugout, just by the way you walked from the on-deck circle to the plate. I made a study out of every player, and I never forgot what you did in the game, even years later. 

But I had one nemesis. I refused to change gloves.  I had a weird hypersensitivity to balance and could tell when a ball was even a fraction of an ounce off weight. I hated when someone fouled off the ball and I had to throw with a new one. My glove was my great equalizer. It was the perfect weight to counter changes in balls. I had the same one for over a decade and took it with me into my college years. 

College ball was a lot different than high school or rec league. These girls are big, highly trained and great at the plate. While I had high strike out counts in the games I pitched, when they did hit a ball back at you, they were rockets. By the time I finished my stride, I was a lot closer than 40 feet from where I started. From my position, you either stopped the ball or you died. In my last year of playing, I had to break down and buy a new glove. 

I was sure my career was over but if it had to end, it would not be as if I were catching barehanded. We went on to the state championship that year, and I finished my college career with 48 wins and 2 losses with an ERA of .048. I guess it wasn’t the glove after all. 

Snell was in that zone. He knocked down batter after batter and situation after situation. It is not often in a World Series game, we see a high number of strike outs or no hitters. After all, these are the best teams in the game. But Snell had a no-hitter through 3 innings. By the middle of the 5th, he had 9 strike outs. He has a killer “Slider”, and it was definitely working for him. 

For my non-sporty girlfriends reading this, baseball pitchers watch pitch count. If a player overthrows, there is potential for damage to the commodity, the worst-case possibility is Tommy Johns, which requires season ending surgery on the elbow and a yearlong recovery -or worse, no return to sports at all. I don’t think Tampa Bay’s manager, Kevin Cash, was thinking about Snell’s pitch count. In fact, his count was low for 6 innings, only 73 pitches.  At that time, Tampa Bay had a 1-0 lead over the Dodgers. 

In the 6th inning, Snell gave up a base hit (maybe it was a double – as I flipped back to Tucker during a commercial), which was only the second of the game for him. Then, Cash got on the phone.  As a pitcher, you look for those signs. Is the bull pen active or the manager on the phone? You try not to let it get in your head.

Cash called for a reliever. I wasn’t the only one stunned. Snell dropped an on-air F-Bomb and walked off the field. Minutes later, the game flipped in favor of the Dodgers. A couple of hits and a wild pitch by Snell’s replacement sent the Dodgers up 3-1 which is how the game would end. 

Snell knew what would happen. You could tell by the look on his face as the camera panned to him every inning thereafter. Frankly, he was robbed. Twitter and the internet lit up the following day trashing Cash for making the call to change pitchers when it was going so well. 

Armchair coaches were asking the same question; why would you make a change when your pitcher has nine K's and a two-hitter going? I don’t recall having heard any statements from Cash. I am sure by the end of the 6th, he wanted to go back and change his mind instead of his pitcher. 

I would ask Cash a couple dozen questions if given the opportunity? Was he seeing something I didn’t? Was a lefty being brought to the plate? Didn’t Cash see his pitcher’s heart?  He had it in him. He had the heart to win that game. He never left the zone, even when the tying run was standing on second with no outs.  Who has gotten you to the finish line before? Is there someone better than who is on the mound to get the desired results? Nine strike outs and a two hitter are darn good determining factors. Snell also won the Cy Young award in 2018 during his first full season of ball with Tampa Bay. He’s proven. 

It isn't often management in the big-league sporting event makes the wrong call, but this time it happened. Snell deserved the game. Tampa Bay fans deserved the opportunity to see their season extended. I haven't followed up to see if Cash made any public concessions after the game, but I can imagine as the manager of one of two teams who made it to the Series, he admitted to his team, he was the reason for the loss. Regardless, it is hard to reconcile. 

Is it possible to learn from loss? Most athletes I know say they hate losing far more than they love winning. Me included. Retrospect is a great teacher. I learned far more by my losses in my life than the wins. 

Early in my sales career, I had a boss that used to spend one day a month with each rep. I used to get so nervous every time he came up to work with me. One of those days, we had a meeting with a long-term law firm client in Sacramento. We went to their office and met with the purchasing manager. She let us go that day. She had decided to go with another vendor. I was shocked and embarrassed.  Of all days to fire us, it was on a day my boss was with me. My gut told me to ask her a dozen questions as to why, but I kept quiet. So did my boss. He never said one word. We left the office in stone-cold silence. I wanted to blame him for not stepping in, but it was all me and I knew it deep down inside. 

I made a decision that day. I would never lose another account again as a result of something I did or didn’t do. If I lost, it would be because someone else was better. I made radical changes in my communications with clients to better understanding their needs as organizations and with the people for whom I worked. Far better for me to address issues than to have someone outside of our organization asking our clients those questions. I elevated my game and from that day on, never lost another account to a competitor. EVER. 

In hindsight, maybe my boss's silence was a lesson for me. Maybe he let me lose. I really should hunt him down and thank him. 

Losing taught me how to win.

I already miss baseball. I am looking forward to opening day next season. I want to turn on a game and escape from whatever the reality of the world at that time and watch the sport I love.  While I am a SF Giants girl, I'll be rooting that Blake Snell will have risen above the loss of game 6 of the 2020 World Series.  

It starts by letting go and maybe a brand new glove!