Ken: Lessons from the Baseball Diamond

One of my greatest passions in life is baseball. Oddly, I’m neither a fan of any particular team nor do I like watching it on TV; I love being a part of the game.

After many years of playing and coaching, I naturally progressed to umpire. I started with Little League and later moved up to the high school level. I’m often asked, “Isn’t it stressful being the butt of so much abuse from players, coaches, and fans when you make a bad call?” Sure, sometimes. But the positives outweigh the negatives.

One of the positives is staying connected with the kids who play. They keep me on my toes, and make me a better role model. And connecting through sports – being “of the game” rather than “in the game” – has taught me a few things that translate nicely into my professional life.

Lesson 1: Play the part; live the role. 

If you umpire a game wearing jeans and looking like the typical Dad, you won’t be perceived and respected by players and parents the same way you are when you wear the uniform.

Everything changed when I invested in my own uniform. As I suited up for each game, I realized I was also putting on the mental mindset of an ump. Buying the proper gear was one of the best investments I made toward being a better ump.

The same holds true as a professional. How others perceive you is driven by the brand you project.

Lesson #2: Leadership is more than tactics; it’s also situation management.

Calling a successful game is so much more than calling balls, strikes, and outs. It’s about managing the entire game, from the pre-game meeting with the coaches to the post-game handshakes. It’s about controlling the pace and keeping things moving. A slow baseball game is painful for everyone involved.

In my professional life, I do my best to help manage the situation that surrounds my team. I strive to run efficient meetings, keep projects moving forward, and prompt those around me to act. Everybody appreciates forward momentum.

Lesson #3: Put yourself in the best position to make the correct call – but don’t be afraid to ask for help.

I learned a few painful lessons while umpiring my first games. One of the most powerful being:

If you’re out of position, you can’t make the call.

After being caught out of position once or twice, I quickly learned to think about where the play would likely unfold before the pitch was thrown. You must anticipate where the play is going to be and where you’ll need to be to make the call.

There will always be plays where, despite your best efforts, you’re out of position or have your vision blocked. That’s why there’s another umpire. You learn to make your best decision, then call “Time” and ask your partner what they observed. It’s a powerful tool. You’re able to slow things down, think about what you just saw, and get another’s perspective on the same play. This also sends a signal that you’re committed to getting the call right and aren’t afraid to ask for help.

Lesson #4: Own your bad call, apologize, learn from it, and move on. 

I’ve made my share of bad calls, trust me. Blown ball and strike calls. Called a foul ball fair. Gotten an obscure rule wrong. And it’s going to happen again.

But one of my jobs as a role model is to teach the kids how to handle mistakes. So, after the game is over, I let the player involved know that I know I got the call wrong, that I’m sorry for it, and that I’ll do my best to get it right the next time. Kids are usually stunned that an adult would admit a mistake. Other umps may disagree with me, but how can we expect kids to own up to their mistakes if we don't own up to ours?

The same holds true in my professional life. I’ve made my fair share of bad calls. However, just like on the diamond, I make a point to apologize to the individual(s) impacted by the mistake, own that I made it, make sure I learn from it, and see how we can course correct and move on.

None of these lessons is worth much if you’re not willing to connect and build relationships.

That’s the currency that builds trust; it makes it possible for people to believe you when you make the call, to offer help when you’re struggling, and to cut you slack when you need it.