A Little Manipulation Gone Wrong

My first experience with teamwork was Little League.

I was eight.

We had tryouts and a draft. Everyone participated. Not just the “sports” kids but the whole neighborhood. My sisters played on a team. The kids who lived next door played. My cousin – a star pitcher at 9 – played. He threw at my head every time we faced each other.

Each weekend, our family, our neighborhood, hung out at the park and played ball.

Picture day in Little League was a big deal.

Everyone washed their uniforms, combed their hair, and polished their shoes.

Look sharp. Play sharp.

We’d get a team photo and then an individual photo. We’d grab the bat, get into our best batting stance, and stare down the photographer as he snapped away.

Then it was hot dogs and root beer snow cones until game time.

But first we had to pay for the pictures. They were sold in packets. The basic packet had one team photo and one individual photo. The grand-daddy of packets had a team photo, multiple individual shots in varying sizes; sizes for a wallet, and the mantel at home, and a full blown portrait. 

It included a baseball card style shot. You, on the front, gripping your bat with your best game face, and all of your stats on the back – just like the pros.

Those cards were a big deal.

My Dad handed me some cash.

“Here,” he said, “Go get the Basic Pack.”

“But Dad,” I said, “Don’t you want to get the big packet. Everyone’s getting the big packet.”

“Don’t you want something to remember me by.”

Yeah, I know. Manipulation with a little guilt trip on the side.

Dad wasn’t buying it.

He said something that I never forgot. He spoke to me like an adult – for the first time.

Lots of hyper-focused eye contact.

“I’d rather remember you by your deeds. Not a picture. It’s not about image it's about action. It’s about getting things done.”

And in case I didn’t get it...

He told me a simple phrase that I was destined to hear the rest of my life.

Do it. Do it right. And do it right now.

A Dad-ism

Of course, he could have been telling me to go get the pictures now or forget it but I chose to believe he was giving me some life advice.

That was a lot of talking for my Dad. Sounds simple. Three little sentences….

Do It…

You have to start.

You can’t manifest it.

You can’t think it or wish it or imagine it into existence.

It takes action. Sure, be positive in your thoughts but thoughts alone won’t get you anywhere.

Do the work. The harder the better.

"It's suppose to be hard. If it wasn't hard everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great."

Jimmy Dugan (Played by Tom Hanks in "A League of Our Own")

You work. You learn.

Then do some more work. Be consistent. Every day. Keep moving and working.

Do It Right…

This is not about being perfect.

Perfection is impossible and boring.

Remember the first rule.

Do it.

Get started.

Work.

This is about doing the best that you can at this moment.

Be respectful and thoughtful of your work. Pay attention to what you are doing. Get better. Do the best you can, right now, at everything you do.

Don't worry about perfect.

You're not. I'm not.

But pay attention and you will learn. You’ll make progress.  

Do It Right Now…

There isn’t a perfect time.

Things won’t get better.

Your schedule won’t clear. You won’t be better prepared later.

Tomorrow isn’t coming.

It starts today. Start the work now.  Clear the fence line. Pick up the shovel or the pencil or make the call, now, that gets everything started.

Do. It. Right. Now.

Thanks Dad…

It was the perfect thing to say to an eight-year-old. I got my team photo; the basic packet. It’s probably floating around in some box of pictures I haven’t digitized yet. But I remember the moment and the line daily. My sisters and I heard it thru childhood, thru the teen years, and into our adult lives. It rattles around in my brain, today, when I feel a loss of focus or priorities.

We can’t be perfect but we can experience a perfect moment.