What has benefited me the most is learning I can’t control what happens outside of my pitching.
—GREG MADDUX
My message is simple: take control of your life.
—CHARLES BARKLEY
In 1989 Greg Maddux was struggling. The young Cubs pitcher who had attended some of my classes during the fall instructional league lost five of six decisions. His earned run average soared. After watching Maddux get roughed up, I made a promise to myself. If Greg didn’t show improvement in his first outing after the All-Star break I was going to call him, which I did.
The transformation that followed the break was astounding. Beginning on July 23, Maddux won five in a row. On August 7 his complete-game victory over Montreal lifted the Cubs into first place in the division—where they stayed the remainder of the regular season.
A lot of people asked me, “What did you tell him?” Nothing.
When I called, Greg wasn’t home.
Sports psychology doesn’t create talent. It only can help release it. Sharing the story is my way of being responsible, our topic in this section. In sports, as in life, your future and success depend upon many things, but mostly they depend upon you. You have the responsibility to shape your life. You are the person who pushes yourself forward or holds yourself back. The power to succeed or fail is yours alone.
I like what Don Sutton, the Hall of Fame pitcher, said: “I think the reason for my success is that I was raised as a member of a sharecropping family in the South, and I had to take responsibility early in life.”
One of the great powers we have is the power to choose. How you choose to look at an event is going to affect how you feel and how you perform. I see a tendency in young pitchers to get upset with umpires or teammates who make infield mistakes. Too often, people play the blame game. Successful people take responsibility for themselves and their game. They understand that it’s not the event but how they respond to it that’s most important.
You have the choice how you will respond to any situation. People with inner excellence, like Greg Maddux, focus on what they can control. Maddux doesn’t have a Hall of Fame build. “I don’t look like a baseball player. I mean, look at me,” the bespectacled Atlanta right-hander says. But Maddux, the most dominant pitcher of his generation, has a Hall of Fame brain.
Maddux knows the only things he can control during a game are himself and his pitches. Tim Salmon, a former American League rookie of the year, said, “I can’t control the pitcher, the ball, the fielders, or the crowd, so I must be in control of myself.”
The great Stan Musial said, “When a pitcher’s throwing a spitball, don’t worry. Don’t complain. Just hit the dry side, like I do.”
During spring training in 1994, I gave a talk to the Seattle Mariners’ pitching staff. The lesson that day was about responsibility psychology. Gathered on the bright-green grass field at the club’s new complex in Peoria, Arizona, I shared Maddux’s quote. I reminded the players that while they can’t always control what happens, they can always control how they respond to it.
After the speech, my cell phone rang.
I recognized the Oklahoma accent immediately. It was Buddy Ryan, the new head coach of the NFL Cardinals. As the Cardinals’ team counselor for six years, I had met Buddy a few weeks earlier at the NFL scouting combine in Indianapolis. In hopes of making a good impression, I conducted a series of video interviews with prospective draft choices at the combine.
“Gary, can you stop by today?”
“Sure, Buddy,” I said. “Be there in an hour.”
Leaving Peoria, I turned my car south toward the Cardinals complex in Tempe. Buddy’s call had left me in good spirits. I was proud of the video interviews and felt they would be a useful player-evaluation tool for the new coach who had come to the Cardinals from the Houston Oilers. In Houston, Buddy had made national headlines after he threw a punch at fellow assistant coach Kevin Gilbride while the two were on the sideline during a game.
Buddy made big news again when he arrived in Arizona and announced, “You’ve got a winner in town!” I was eager to hear his plans for the upcoming season.
Ryan greeted me outside his office. It was St. Patrick’s Day. He wore a green necktie, and a green carnation bloomed from his jacket lapel. Ruddy-faced, eyes twinkling, and all smiles, Buddy looked as Irish as Finian’s Rainbow.
Inside his office, where I had spent many hours with his predecessor Joe Bugel, Buddy plopped down behind his giant desk. I took a seat across from him.
“Gary, I’ve talked to the coaches. They’ve got a lot of respect for you,” Buddy said. I was beaming, inside and out. “The players like you. They trust you. I’ve heard nothing but good things. But I’m letting you go.”
Boom. I felt as if I had been slapped. My heart sank. The big smile fell off my face. As I sat in stunned silence, shock and disappointment suddenly gave way to a rush of anger. This isn’t fair, I thought. I felt my jaw tighten and my fists clench. For an instant, I pictured myself flying across the desk and delivering to my ex-boss the same kind of statement Ryan had delivered to Gilbride during a flash of anger in the heat of a big game.
Then I caught myself. An hour earlier, I had been standing in the warm sunshine in Peoria, lecturing a group of major league pitchers on being responsible. I had told them they can’t always control the situation. All they can control is how they respond to it. Forcing myself, I sat back in my chair. I took a deep breath and looked Ryan in the eye.
“Buddy, I really wish you had taken the time to get to know me,” I heard myself saying in a level voice. “I think I can help you and the team. But I understand. I want to wish you good luck.”
We stood and shook hands.
“You still gonna be a Cardinals fan?” Ryan asked.
I told him I would. Then I left his office, consciously holding my head high. I had to walk my talk, although at that moment it wasn’t easy to do.
While you can’t always control what happens, you always can control how you respond to it. It’s not the situation but how you respond to it that makes the difference.