One of the biggest divides we have in our baseball league is between those who played (and enjoyed) high school sports and those who didn’t. The former group is mostly delighted to have found an outlet for that competitive spirit and the chance to pour effort into an activity and see results. The latter enjoys playing (well, sometimes…but that’s neither here nor there), but sticks around primarily for the social aspect (I think). Occasionally (though not as often as I would have guessed, actually), a conflict arises between the two groups.
This is a particular problem for me, I think because of my ability to focus and…okay, honestly, I’m just kind of an intense person. Always have been in fact (it used to be worse…I was a weird kid…). And up through college, participating in a focused, competitive team sport gave me a place to channel that intensity.
Since then, it’s been kind of a struggle (and probably has quite a bit to do with the existence of this blog). I can’t really put that kind of energy into work, maybe because of the job itself (don’t worry, I still like the job just fine, but who could get REALLY excited about maintaining a database or staring at a computer all day long?) or maybe because I’m just more motivated by physical activity. And to the extent that it can be poured into a relationship, the right guy (i.e. one who wouldn’t be crushed) hasn’t come along.
As a result, I’m driving everyone on my baseball team nuts. And they, in turn, are driving me nuts. I’ve been playing baseball or softball since I was ten and that experience coupled with my ability to think ahead and the relative glut of downtime built into baseball allows me to effectively keep track of three or four positions simultaneously. This causes me to do things like remind the second basemen four or five times in the same game to back up the pitcher when there’s a runner on third. She feels like I don’t trust her (which is 100% true) and that she’s being singled out (more debatable) while I feel like if she really wanted me to shut up, she’d back up the damn pitcher without a reminder from me.
Anyway though, they’re all sick of my voice and I’m beginning to feel like I could be wrong (which, again honestly, I rarely do). Maybe I’m missing the tone of the league. In the end, it's an academic discussion, because I can't seem to change my behavior...
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2 comments:
Oh, yeah, you can totally be misguided and also right. The whole leitmotif of interpersonal interactions is getting along, not being right. That's one of the reasons I like my now relatively reclusive lifestyle - I got awfully tired of running headlong into the truth that, when dealing with other people, being right is often either totally irrelevant or a luxury one can't afford to insist on.
Misguided? Nah. The real dividing line in your league is the expected amount of competitiveness. The difference between, "Hey, I'm playing to have fun!" versus "Hey, I have fun playing when I try to play to win!"
Not everyone has to share the same motivations, but presumably one shouldn't be surprised that the level of competitiveness in your baseball league is much higher than a recreational co-ed 16 inch softball "beer" league on a summer week night.
I think your real challenge isn't bottling up your intensity or spirit, but really finding the correct voice to get the more...ahem...social types on your team to understand that your reminders are to help them play the game better. Playing better leads to winning (and presumably less reminders!).
For whatever reason, this reminded me of Gilbert Arenas and blog on the motivation of his fellow NBA players:
"...There’s hundreds of NBA players, but there’s a few basketball-playing fans.
What I mean is that there’s a few NBA players that’s actually a fan of the game of basketball. There’s a few players, if you take the money away, they will still play it as hard as they do.
Only a few."
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