Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are
One in a thousand.
That’s your mathematical chance of catching a ball if you attend a Major League Baseball game.
Those aren’t great odds. If you really want to take home a baseball, let me give you some advice: Bring a few extra bucks and buy one from the souvenir shop.
Perhaps that’s why I felt a little cynical when I saw my son Patrick carting his baseball glove as we loaded up the car. Every summer I take an overnight trip with each of my children. My kids review my speaking schedule, pick the location they want to visit, research the city, and make plans for what we’ll do when we get there. I act as if the trip is for them, but really, it’s a gift for me.
During the summer of 2017, Patrick chose Kansas City. It was an easy call: One of his favorite cousins lived there, there was a Legoland downtown, and the St. Louis Cardinals were scheduled to play the Royals the evening of our arrival.
When I saw him exit the house with his baseball glove, I knew what he was thinking. “Bud,” I said with a smile, “let’s leave the glove at home. The best-case scenario is you’ll get hot with it on during the game, and the worst case is you’ll leave it behind in the stands.”
Not persuaded by my logic, Patrick shook his head and said confidently: “Dad, I’m gonna need it.”
Well, in the eighth inning that evening, his words proved prophetic.
A ball careened off the field, bounced high over the stands, and spun directly toward us. As I ducked to avoid impact, I heard the crisp sound of ball smacking leather.
I looked over at my son. The ball had plopped perfectly into his waiting glove, and Patrick’s face was lit up with the sheer joy of a dream coming true.
Man, I thought, what a lucky kid. I’ve been to hundreds of games over my lifetime and have never returned home with a baseball.
I gave him a hug and celebrated with him. What a lucky kid. One in a thousand. Hope he savors this moment…because it will never happen again.
Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: “Shallow men believe in luck, believe in circumstances….Strong men believe in cause and effect.”
I didn’t realize how shallow I was.
The following summer, as we prepared for our annual trip, our destination was Pittsburgh, hundreds of miles away. As soon as Patrick got in the car, I saw it.
Already on his left hand, even though we had eight hours of windshield time in front of us. His glove.
I bit my tongue and allowed him to have his fun. He wore that glove for the eight-hour drive, and each time I saw it, I smiled at his unbridled optimism. Little did he know our seats were high up in the right-field stands and about as far from home plate as you can get!
We arrived just as the game was starting. We watched several innings from our seats in the outfield before taking a lap around the stunning ballpark. We got some snacks, took some pictures, and returned to our seats a few innings later.
Just as we sat down, the Pirates’ third baseman crushed a ball toward us. The ball soared just over our heads, bounced off several sets of hands, and was corralled by a bear of a man seated three rows behind us and about ten seats over.
Wow, that was pretty close, I thought, my heart racing as fireworks exploded in the sky and the Pirates fans celebrated.
As things settled down, we took our seats. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the man who had just caught the ball standing at the end of our row. He was looking at us and pointing at Patrick, who stood out from the locals in his bright red Cardinals baseball cap.
“Hey, kid!” he yelled. “If you can catch this, it’s yours. I want you to have something to remember this game by besides your team losing!”
He then underhanded the ball toward us. Patrick reached high and brought the ball down in his mitt.
I looked over at Patrick, his face aglow. And now, in his glove, against overwhelming odds, another freaking baseball.
He was now, unequivocally, the luckiest kid I’d ever met.
Shallow people believe in luck and in circumstances. Strong people believe in cause and effect.
Today I am convinced it wasn’t luck that brought those balls Patrick’s way.
Sure, a bit of good fortune enters into the equation.
But you’ll never catch a ball if you aren’t in the stadium.
You won’t see the ball if you aren’t actively watching the game.
And you can’t grab it easily unless you bring your glove.
Then why don’t adults bring their gloves to the game?
Well, in addition to the fact that a big, bulky glove may not go with our outfit, we know the odds. We don’t want to look like fools, hoping for a miracle. Seriously, when was the last time you saw adults walking into a stadium with their baseball gloves on? It doesn’t happen. And if it did, what would you think about them? Be honest!
And yet, have you seen the transformation that takes place when adults see a ball coming their way? For a moment they turn back into little kids. They widen their eyes, jump to their feet, spill their drinks, drop their hot dogs, raise their hands high, all for the extraordinary chance…the life-changing opportunity…to catch a used baseball!
The anticipation rouses them from the complacency shrouding their day, and awakens the child within. They turn from cynics into believers in the span of a few seconds.
I’m not saying that we should walk around expecting to win the lottery every day. (In fact, I encourage you not to play the lottery!) But there is something powerful about moving through life, through work, through relationships, through each day, not readying ourselves for disappointment, but expecting adventure.
There is something life-changing that happens when we return to that audacious, unguarded, optimistic mindset of a child.
The stadiums of life today are mostly packed with bystanders, arms crossed, gloves long ago stored away. Rather than expecting adventure, we aim for realism. We try to protect ourselves from experiencing false hope.
Sure, we once believed life was a great adventure waiting to unfold. But those days are long gone. We’ve been beaten and battered along the road of life. We’ve endured bumps and bruises, sometimes scars that last. We think those wounds have wised us up.
In fact, they can blind us to what is really going on around us, and within us.
Here’s some data about how bad things appear.
According to recent polls, only 28 percent of Americans are optimistic that the country is headed in the right direction.1 This isn’t just a result of a new administration or changing economic situations. Since 2012, U.S. polls reveal citizens to be more pessimistic than optimistic about the future. More than half of all Americans polled feel that the United States is at the lowest point they can remember in history.2
Adventure? What adventure? We’re just trying to survive!
Jeffrey Sachs, a professor of sociology at Columbia University, calls the plight we’re in a social crisis. “When confidence in government is low, when perceptions of corruption are high, inequality is high and health conditions are worsening…that is not conducive to good feelings.”3
Why write a book about living In Awe in the midst of these dire statistics?
Because I want each of us to recognize how bad things are. No, not due to the realities around us, but to the mindsets within us.
You see, those polls that I quoted don’t reflect the facts. They reflect our perceptions. They measure our fear and our cynicism and our doubt. Our expectations about where we think society is headed.
Don’t get me wrong. The challenges we face as a society are significant. Injustice, inequality, and poverty. Nagging tensions between governments, mounting concerns with the environment.
We face adversity individually, too. Relationships are complicated. Health is fleeting. Job markets shift. Friends disappoint. With nearly 50 million of us struggling with mental health, the path forward can at times feel incredibly lonely and sometimes downright hopeless.
Life is hard. By no means am I trying to sugarcoat the hardships we face in life. But the rise of cynicism, negativity, and fear-based thinking must give way to radically different mindsets if we are going to address this social crisis.
Consider this: What if it wasn’t luck but Patrick’s attitude of expectant anticipation that allowed his dream to come true (twice)? What if, in choosing an attitude that keeps cynicism at bay and rejects the odds, we actually increase the likelihood of our desires becoming reality?
I know you’re thinking that this kind of mindset is unrealistic, and perhaps even downright stupid. Pollyannaish. Impractical.
Which is why I’m going to prove to you how a shift in perspective is, in fact, incredibly practical, more than reasonable, and how the life-altering benefits are scientifically proven.
You won’t need luck, just a willingness to grab your glove, uncross those arms, forget the odds, and see what happens when you recalibrate your sense of expectancy.