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Baseball, like life, isn’t fair. Its injustice, however, is entirely lost on most little-leaguers consumed as they are with merely mastering the skills of hitting, catching, and throwing the ball. No, weighty matters such as this are delayed until adolescence, or in my case, an undergraduate softball game. Outfield was always my position. But unexpectedly during an intramural contest, I was called in from left field to replace our third baseman who turned an ankle fielding a grounder. It was then that it fully dawned on me – a lefty really can’t play infield.
From its very inception, the ball diamond was set up for right-handers. Facing the pitcher’s mound, throws go from left-to-right across the diamond, which is natural for a righty but awkward and clumsy for a southpaw (rather like a right-handed quarterback trying to pass while running to his left). No wonder I was never even considered for an infield spot when I was young. The instant the coach saw the right-handed mitt, I was summarily motioned to the outfield. Suddenly, it all made sense. I was part of the 10% playing a game built for and by the other 90%. My limitations were not of my making. It was the game’s fault.
For many people life is set up unfairly. They were born one way and the ‘rules’ of life favor those born the other. Recently, society has made great strides toward greater acceptance. Increasingly, we are recognizing both the obvious and more subtle ways in which life unfairly handicaps people from exercising their rights, achieving their goals, or simply living their lives in peace and happiness. While much of this is for the good, excess frequently plagues social movements. Acceptance run amok can be self-limiting. It can fail to appreciate the vast human capacity for growth and transformation. We are all born some way, but demanding that the world uncritically accept every detail of our perceived innate endowment ignores the fact that the capacity for change is an integral part of that endowment. We are all born capable of being far more that what we initially were or presently are.
Indeed, the baseball analogy grows ever more informative. I’m certainly not the first lefty to realize that he’s never going to play third base – throwing with the left hand. But if I can transform myself into a competent right-handed thrower to complement my left-handed hitting, I end up with an advantage over my strictly right-handed competition. This is, of course, because most pitchers are right-handed and the left batter’s box gives you a better look at the incoming pitch than the right batter’s box. This points to another advantage lefties have in baseball – a good left-handed pitcher is a rare and valued commodity. As I write this, the Cleveland Indians, who lead the AL’s Central Division with one of baseball’s best pitching staffs, have exactly zero left-handed pitchers – a source of concern for us fans wondering about their post-season chances.
When it came to self-improvement, William James counseled that we should “act as we wish to become.” Too much acceptance can make us lazy. It can sap us of the motivation necessary for positive transformation. Baseball “accepts” lefties. But we lefties have to accept baseball as well. For us to demand that half the diamonds be reversed so that we can have just as many opportunities to play third as righties is not only unrealistic, it’s self-limiting. I suggest that something similar is true about life. Sometimes our full potential is realized, not by demanding that the game change, but instead by demanding that we change in order to better meet the game’s challenges.
