Over the course of my life and career, I have heard people talk about someone being “out in left field.” It is implied that the person is unusual, eccentric, odd, or strange in some way. In particular, the focus is on their thinking and perspective, which is not like other people. In short, they are considered different.
Whenever I hear someone use the phrase “out in left field,” I am reminded of my own elementary school experiences playing baseball. After the teams were picked in gym class, I was always placed out in left field. In reality, there was the out field and then the “far” out field. I was always placed in the far out field if not the far far outfield.
The reason for this decision by the team captain was a simple one. I could not throw a baseball worth beans. I couldn’t even hit the broad side of a barn as they say in the midwest.
The real reason for my inability is that I grew up in a soccer family. I could kick a ball from the far outfield toward home base, but I could not throw a baseball accurately in that direction. During my growing up years, there were no games of playing catch with my dad. If we played anything, it was soccer.
The upshot of this choice is that I was way out in left field on a regular basis. And no one in elementary school could hit a ball that far. If they did, it would have been considered a home run.
So, what did I do in the far out field?
In reality, not much. I mostly watched the clouds. I listened to the birds and the wind. I marveled at the blooming dandelions. I was in my own little nature world, seeing and noticing everything.
When the innings changed, I was always surprised. They had to call me in. And given the distance, I had to jog in before the first batter stepped up to plate.
When it came time for me to bat, I routinely struck out. Before glasses, I couldn’t really see the ball. For that matter, I also couldn’t really see the black board in the classroom very well. On one level, this would explain my learning disability. After getting glasses, I could see the ball, but I could not get the timing right to actually hit it. So after every inning, it was back out to the far out field for me.
As a baseball team, some days we won and some days we lost. It really didn’t make much difference to me. I just enjoyed being out in left field where I noticed everything. I could see the whole field from my vantage point while others only saw things from their position. As a result, when I wasn’t focused on nature, I knew when someone was going to steal a base. I could tell when the batter was going to bunt by their stance. However, because I was so far out in left field, no one paid much attention to my observations. They were focused on the inning and not focused on the whole game and the inning. By not seeing the big picture, they did not understand the strategy of the other team.
Now, when someone tells me a person is out in left field, I smile. First, I know they are having a good time just like I did. Second, I know they are seeing a ton of things, and therefore understand more about what is going on than most people give them credit for during the game. Third, I know that I need to visit with them and learn what they understand. Being unusual, eccentric, odd, or strange does not mean they are not engaged. It just means they are engaged in their own way. Therefore, I need to have the courage to connect with them and to listen them. From my experience, those out in left field often hold the keys to improving things both operationally and strategically.
© Geery Howe 2024
No comments:
Post a Comment