So, you see these guys, right? Like Aaron Judge. He makes one of those catches, you know, the ones where he’s practically flying into the wall, and everyone goes nuts. And I get it, it’s amazing. But my “practice” with that, well, it wasn’t just about cheering from my sofa, beer in hand.
I actually found myself spending a good bit of time trying to really get my head around the sheer guts it takes. Not just the skill – everyone yaks on about the skill. I mean, the split-second decision to just absolutely launch yourself, knowing full well you might smash into a rock-hard wall, or twist an ankle, maybe even wreck your whole season. Or worse.
It really got me thinking. I started replaying those catches in my mind, not just for the highlight reel stuff, but for that exact moment of commitment. What’s buzzing through your head then? Is it all pure instinct? Or is there some kind of lightning-fast calculation of risk versus reward? I even tried, and don’t laugh at this, to sort of simulate that mindset. Not the actual catch, mind you, I’m not about to go breaking my neck diving into the garden shed. But just trying to imagine that level of total, all-in commitment to one single, fleeting moment.
This whole thing dragged up a memory from years back. I was neck-deep in a project. Nothing nearly as exciting as professional baseball, believe you me. It was some software development gig, a real monster of a thing. We were, of course, jammed up against a crazy deadline – the usual story in that line of work. And there was this one critical bug, a real showstopper. The kind that makes everyone start walking on eggshells, terrified of making things even worse. You know, classic corporate paralysis setting in.
- We had meetings about the bug. Oh yes.
- Then we had meetings about the meetings we’d had about the bug.
- Lots of talk, tons of chin-stroking, absolutely zero action. Pretty standard procedure, right?
And I remember thinking, someone just needs to dive in headfirst, like Judge going for that impossible ball. Someone needs to take the risk of possibly breaking it even more, just to have a shot at actually fixing the damn thing. So, I did. I pulled an all-nighter, maybe two, tracing this godforsaken piece of tangled code. My boss at the time, he was a nice enough guy, I suppose, but utterly terrified of his own shadow, kept poking his head around my cubicle, nervously asking if I was “sure” about what I was doing.
Anyway, long story short, I found the rotten spot. Turned out to be something ridiculously simple in the end, which is often how these things go. But actually getting there? That was the equivalent of hitting the wall at full speed. I didn’t get any standing ovation, no slow-motion replays on the office TV. Just a pretty lukewarm “good job” the next morning and I probably shaved a few days off my life expectancy with all the stress and cheap coffee.
So now, when I see a guy like Judge make one of those unbelievable catches, yeah, it’s incredible athleticism, no doubt. But for me, it’s also a sharp reminder of that raw willingness to just commit, to go all-in, even if you know you might hit the wall hard. Sometimes, that’s the only way you’re ever going to actually get important things done, whether you’re catching a fly ball for millions or just trying to fix a broken system in a regular office. Most folks, though, they just prefer to watch safely from the stands, or, you know, schedule another meeting. And that’s probably why so many things just stay broken, I guess.
