Stop Trying to Steer the Ball (Thanks, Dad)

When I was a kid I loved playing baseball. I was a pitcher; not too bad. Whenever my fastball would start to drop into the dirt, my dad would say, “Stop trying to steer the ball!” or “There’s no steering wheel on that baseball!”

I always nodded along as if I understood, but I was never quite sure what he meant.

Tonight, I was just thinking about life: where I want to go, what I want to do with these later chapters of my life? I thought about what I DON’T want. I don’t want to be a slave to money.

I mean, you HAVE to have it for food and shelter and stuff, but I spent so much of my 20s, 30s, and even a lot of my 40s thinking, “Once I get to [some arbitrary thing], I’ll be happy.”

I don’t want to chase that anymore. I REALLY LOVED what I did, so it didn’t feel like a lot of “work” at the time. I need to find that passion again. It’s a drug. It begins to make you think you can’t find happiness without it.

… interesting…. The fact that I said find happiness. To find, do you not have to seek? (Okay Yoda, calm TF down).

So where does one look, Yoda-ass!

But how much stuff do I really need? I mean, I’ve just recently moved, and pared down a LOT; but I STILL have things I haven’t touched since I moved them in!

As I was contemplating my future, for some reason I heard my dad’s voice say, “Stop trying to steer the ball!!”

What the EXACT fuck does this have to do with baseball, Dad?! Then, it clicked. Both what my dad was trying desperately to get me to understand, and my life in general.

You can only control so much.

Once the ball’s left your hand; all you can do is hope and pray it goes where you want it. You’re done. So concentrate on your motion. Do what you know you're supposed to do: breathe`, relax, and let your practice guide you. You’re gonna lose a game now and then; but if you’re keeping score, you’re already fucked. You don’t like this game? Choose another. Used to LOVE that game, but not so much anymore? Choose another. It’s fine. This is YOUR life. YOU choose the games you play.

So as I start to figure out how the rest of my life plays out, I’m gonna try to “steer the ball” less, and try to concentrate on working on my game. Accept that I’m gonna lose some games, and take some tough losses. I KNOW I’m dumb. It’s okay, we ALL are. I’ve just got to concentrate on the things I know I’M supposed to do: breathe, relax, and let my practice guide me.

The good thing? I’ve thrown this pitch a thousand times.

Thanks, Dad. I love you.