To say I played baseball as a kid might be a slight exaggeration. It’s more accurate to say I kept the bench warm and wandered around the outfield, watching the game being played fifty feet in front of me. I can’t blame my coaches for not playing me more. I wasn’t terrible, but I wasn’t great either. If the question was, “What can you do with the ball?”, my answer was always the same. “Not enough.”
It made sense to me…but it still hurt.
Athletes were our school heroes. I was chasing acceptance as much as I was chasing the ball. But my less than stellar efforts sealed my fate and secured my place outside of the inner circle and away from the cool lunch table. Still, for another shot at glory, I stuck with it. For five years straight, I kept showing up – hoping that someday I’d do something I’d never done before.
And one day, I did.
It was the bottom of the 9th. We were behind by 2 points with two outs and two runners on when it became my turn at bat. It was all on me. I don’t remember much about the moment, but I do remember the way I felt. I wanted to crawl in a hole. I wanted to be anywhere but there. I even considered playing sick, so they’d sub someone in my place. I stalled as long as I could before approaching the plate, and I let the first two pitches go by, afraid to swing. Strikes. As the third ball approached, I closed my eyes and swung as hard as I could.
It probably would have been a single, but the first baseman couldn’t catch the overthrown ball – so I kept going. As I rounded second, I could see confusion in the other team. No one knew who the ball was being thrown to and no one called it. I ran on to third and got there just in time for the third baseman to catch the ball and drop it right in front of me. My coach told me to stop, but adrenaline and nerves made me temporarily deaf and ballsy. I kept running, the third baseman close behind me, ready to trap me at home. At the last second, he tossed the ball to the catcher as I slid into home.
Safe.
What a beautiful word. Safe. I did it. It wasn’t pretty, but I did it. We won the game and I won my first and only game ball. A few games later, our season ended and I retired…a winner. Not because I’d finally tasted victory – but because of what I’d learned about myself.
Despite my best efforts, I was (and am) an average ball player at best.
For years I tried to change what was just plain true. But no amount of wishing or practice could increase my natural ability. Plain and simple, I’m not equipped. I don’t have the hand-eye coordination or the instincts needed to be great. I tried to dig deeper and hone something that wasn’t there. I told myself I wasn’t working hard enough. I compared myself to the best around me and beat myself up every chance I got for not being more than I was. But even when I got to the moment I’d been wishing for, it didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel right. A real ballplayer would have eaten that moment up. I was just glad it was over.
So I stepped off of the field. Finally. And that’s when everything began to fall into place for me.
Instead of going to baseball practice, I studied piano and eventually voice and acting. I attended a high school for the performing arts and won every state championship available to me. That earned me a scholarship to a great university. My reputation there caught the attention of music industry leaders, who opened doors for me I could never have opened on my own. In the years since, I’ve had hundreds of home run moments. I just had to step off the field to get to them.
Albert Einstein is quoted as saying, “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it’s stupid.”
I love that quote. I love the idea that each of us is a master at something – and I believe it’s true. But we have to let go of all the things we’re not and be led by all the things we actually are. We’ve got to back away from the tree and get back in the water. Honor is waiting, even calling out to us. But it’s reserved only for those who reach beyond what’s average…to embrace what’s extraordinary in themselves.
Are you swimming – or are you trying to climb a tree?
Do you keep showing up somewhere you know you don’t belong?
What can you do like no one else?
What’s gloriously true about you?
Where is your genius?
Now…what are you going to do about that?
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Man this is so true! We often assign value to what other’s are doing well, than what we can do well. I’ve been caught in that cycle a time or two. It took me years to discover what I could do and know that it was valuable.
And not that you need the validation, but I always admired you for your humor and depth. That’s kind of rare.
That’s sweet of you to say, Kim – thanks for that. I’d love to know – what gifts emerged for you beyond high school? I’ve thought about this quite a few times. You MUST have discovered another side of yourself in Thailand, especially being there for so long. When I think of you, I think of your humor, your gentle heart, and ability to bring people together…Would you say those are your primary talents – or is there something else? (I would imagine photography would have to be on the list somewhere too.)
Great story Chance!! Bro Mike Glenn’s book “The Gospel of Yes” really echos what you’ve said. Tony
THANKS, Tony! :) I want to read that book! I’ve heard so much about it and I love the way he speaks.
I can relate to this post as I’ve done that too. I tried to chase things that didn’t feel right for me just to prove myself I wasn’t worse than others. I’ve always thought that Einstein quote makes sense. I’ve done with tree climbing now and trying to explore what I can do in the water. By the way, my sister asked me to thank you for inspiring her as well. I kept talking to her about your posts as her English isn’t that great and she can’t read your blog herself. So a big thank you from both of us. :)
WOW, AE. I am beyond honored. You have my most sincere thanks for passing on these thoughts in Russian! Imagine how it feels to reach someone you have absolutely no hope of reaching on your own…you are my bridge. Thank you so much. Please tell your sister I’m glad these posts are helpful to her. Thank you BOTH for taking the time to read! It means so much to me…We’re a world away from each other. How amazing to forge this friendship.
(Insert LOUD applause here!) This is a great post. You hit the ball out of the park on this one! Thank you for your encouragement :)
(Bowing, bowing…) :)
You’re very kind, Tammy. Thank you so much for such a sweet comment.
Chance, this is a great post, especially for our family. We are struggling with teens trying to find his/her place in this world. It’s a monumental struggle…perhaps not for all, but for most, and the teenage years are difficult…sometimes to a heart and gut wrenching level.
Your post tells the truth that we do all have a place, a skill, a uniqueness to ourselves that is ours alone. Identifying that uniqueness and believing in it, however, is a struggle in and of its own, often wrought with self-doubt and poor self-esteem…both of which can leave us “settling” on the wrong skill, peer group, etc.
My favorite part about your post, though, is your baseball analogy. One word in your story brought me back to the words of my mother…a word she still uses today. The acceptance of this word did not come easily to her, and doesn’t come easily to most. Through my mom’s personal struggles and her desire to lean into Jesus, she claimed the word “safe”…just as you were “safe” at home plate…each of us is safe in the arms of Jesus. Our safety in him identifies us as uniquely called, uniquely loved and forever His. As each of us rounds the corner, we can be certain as we slide into home, that we are indeed “safe!”
Thanks for your writing and for the gift of your post to me this morning.
This is one of the most insightful comments I’ve read in a long while. Thank you for taking the time.
Yes. I remember this time period in my own life. It can be gut wrenching…In fact, I think it may be designed for that purpose for our greater good…But that doesn’t make it any easier at the time.
YES – I fully believe EACH of us are UNIQUELY called and gifted to do something that we alone can do…and not just an ultimate calling, but a daily something to do. It’s so hard to see it sometimes, but once we really grasp that we have powerful purpose waiting for us to walk in and claim as ours, everything changes. Pressure and the striving subside…and something beautiful replaces them.
Wow – thank you for beautiful and honest words. You’ve given us something to chew on.