Much can be gleaned by interacting with a baseball pitching machine. The best instruction taken from baseball or a softball pitching machine actually have nothing to do with baseball. Poised in front of the plate with balls flying by at 70 miles an hour lends itself to some serious life lessons. Everyday a hundred issues fly past every normal Joe and Julia walking the street. Hundreds of decisions are made every minute. Should I have decaf with artificial sweetener, should I scratch my nose before putting down the donut, should I call Teddy back, take the stairs or elevator, use blue ink or black ink, zip up my fly now or wait until I can duck into a closet, run to catch the cross light or wait? Facing baseballs tossed by a machine is a great practice and perfect metaphor for life.
A professional baseball player knows that every time he goes to the plate, the pitcher is going to try to get him out. That’s the game and the way it is played. The batter doesn’t whine about why the pitcher is a slider, or why he’s making it hard to hit a homerun. The batter isn’t mad at the pitcher because he is throwing fast balls and change ups to try and fool him. The batter doesn’t think about why the pitcher doesn’t like him. It is the way the game is played, the objectives are clear and the roles are obvious. A batter strikes out after swinging the bat at three balls in the strike zone. Is he mad at the pitcher? Heck {no|darn no way|. In fact he probably admires the pitcher for doing his job so well and is mad at himself for not doing better. The man with the bat made his decisions, to swing hard, to bunt or to watch the ball go by. If he pops up or strikes out, he goes back to the dugout, disappointed, but knowing he will swing again. He doesn’t point the finger at anyone else or make a bunch of excuses, or feel like the man on the mound was being unfair. He swung away and he will live to play another day.
For most people life is not as black and white or as oppositional as baseball. Life is much more like facing a batting machine. The pitching machine cares about nothing. The machine doesn’t care if the batter is black, white, purple, tall, short, or shaped like a gourd. It just keeps tossing pitches. The machine doesn’t care if the batter zings it out of the park or fans the air.
That is the way the world is for most people. Things are coming at them quick as a major league fastball. Is it time to swing, pass or duck? If they get hit by a pitch do they run out to the mound and pick a fight with the mechanical arm? No, they do not. It is not a malicious action. Life is just tossing some bad pitches. They can spit and holler, cuss and kick. It does no good, but they are welcome to act badly if it comforts them. The real energy needs to go into getting back into the box and facing the next ball, watch it come in and decide whether to swing or pass.
Baseball has much to teach us all. Baseballs basic rules can become rules for living. Swing or pass, it’s nothing personal. In the game of life, we’re always at the plate and the pitches just keep coming. That is what is so great; you can just keep swinging.
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