The Secret to Success

Why do some people make it and others not? How is it that sometimes gifted and talented people fail miserably?

These thoughts were in my mind when I recently traveled down one of those link by link internet rabbit trails. I do not even remember where I started but I know I ended up reading a list of past Major League Baseball Rookie of the Year winners. My eye was not drawn to the recent successes such as the Angel’s Mike Trout (who has a very good chance of being considered one of the greatest players ever), but to the names on the list that have been nearly forgotten.

There are many players who, after initial success, saw their careers quickly flame out. They were stars one moment and forgotten has-beens the next. I read about the careers of players like Bob Hamelin, who won the award for Kansas City in 1994 and was out of baseball within 5 years and Mark Fidrych, who won the award and 19 games as a starting pitcher for the Detroit tigers in 1976. Fidrych won only 10 more games in his entire career.

I reflected on the elusiveness of long term success. It is one thing to do something well for a while, it is an entirely different thing to do something well for a lifetime. I thought of my major roles in life, my roles as husband, father and physician (in that order), and how being really good for one or two years would be nearly meaningless.

I then asked myself- how do you maintain excellence over the long haul? The best answer I can come up with is, “You work at it every day, and you never, ever stop trying to do better.”

When I look at the people who were the all-time greats it seems they all shared this characteristic. They were never satisfied by past success. They were always working to get better, to strengthen their areas of weakness, to eliminate flaws and fortify their strengths. They accepted criticism and instruction and made themselves a little better every day.

I will never be paid millions of dollars to ply my trade in front of thousands of people but I have been given a job to do. When my life is over it is my prayer to find myself standing before Almighty God and hear Him say, “You did well.” I am pretty sure that hearing that will make my heart grateful for all eternity and make all of the hard work seem worth it. I am absolutely sure that I will not hear those words if I do not continue to work every day to be the best I can be in whatever situation God places me.

 

- Bart

How Love and Baseball Changed the Life of a Little Boy

While I have a strange ability to remember numbers, facts and trivia, I have a very poor recollection of live events. I have been told by some that it is a defense mechanism designed to protect me from the painful memories of my abusive past. It is a pretty effective mechanism, as I remember very little of my childhood. There is but one area of my childhood that escaped the cloud of forgetfulness- my one season of little league baseball.

When we were 10 my twin brother and I were finally allowed to pursue baseball, our one great love. The coach took a liking to us right away, nicknaming us Heckyl and Jekyl after the two mischievous magpies in a cartoon. I remember my coach as a great man, strong, loving and with a warm smile. He praised my successes and nursed the wounds of my failures. As we had never played Little League before it took sometime before the coach recognized that we could really play the game, but once he did we played a lot. I was the starting pitcher and Bret the starting catcher. I compiled a record of 5 wins and 2 losses, we both hit over .300 and were named to the All Star team. My happiest childhood memory is of the day we beat the team coached by our coach's neighbor. He had talked up the game for a week. We won 8-3. I pitched a complete game, with the final out coming when I covered home on a wild pitch. The coach raced out of the dugout and gave me a huge bear hug. It was a moment of true joy for me.

That season was the single greatest year of my childhood, perhaps the only happy one. What made it wonderful was the love and encouragement of a man who was not my father, a man who I never saw again. But in that one season he gave a battered little boy hope for the future, a belief that if he worked hard he could be more than the failure he had been labeled at home.

Just a reminder of the difference we can make when we go out of our way to love a child. It can have an impact far greater than you could ever imagine.

- Bart

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Finding Family in an Unexpected Place

I have frequented the Ohana Cafe in Huntington Beach for years. It is a family run business and I know the family well, as I have delivered 3 of the children and provide care to members of 4 generations. It has a small town atmosphere and the regulars know one another, many have developed friendships and often share a table.

I was sharing a table for lunch this past week with another regular (who is also a patient and friend) when two people walked in and sat at the table near us. By their ages I assumed they were father and daughter- she seemed to be in her twenties and he appeared to be about my age. I made eye contact with the dad when they came in and gave him a small nod and a "How you doing?" greeting. 

When food arrived, the father reached across the table and took his daughter's hands and they bowed their heads for a prayer. It struck me that these strangers were no longer strangers, that they might actually be fellow Christians and we might actually be family. I spoke up and said, "So where do you all go to church?" He shared that they went to a baptist church in Compton. 

We talked briefly about churches, and he said that church wasn't about where you attended but where your heart was. I agreed that what you did on Sunday did not matter near as much as what you did the rest of the week. After that brief exchange we went back to our meals.

My heart was warmed by the reality of all of the things that did not matter. It did not matter that they lived in Compton and I lived in Huntington Beach. It did not matter that they were black and I was white. It did not matter what we did for a living. In that moment what mattered was that we shared a faith in Christ and that because of that faith we were family.

When the waitress brought my check I quietly paid for both meals. I left before they knew their check had been covered, praying that they would be blessed by the fact that it was not a stranger, but a brother who paid the bill.

- Bart