In business and in life, you don’t get to choose when you are there and when you are not.

You don’t get to decide when you’re engaged or not.

You either are…or you’re not.

I’m going to share a very personal story.

I have ALWAYS loved baseball. It’s been my passion and the love my entire life. For as long as I can remember, I have had a love affair with the sport. The Dodgers and Vin Scully. All my heroes growing up.

When I was 12 years old, I was on a little league team. Like my son’s team today.

I was in a horrible slump. I mean, what 12-year-old doesn’t go through that?! I was really struggling at the plate and trying to get going, doing everything I could. I worked with the coaches and spent extra time in the cages. I even watched my heroes on TV and tried to emulate their swing. But I just could not buy a hit.

Well, one Saturday afternoon, I was at my usual place at my usual time for the game. Prepping and getting ready for the game ahead.

My father decided to come to the game. He had only been to a few. Not many. Never came to a practice. Didn’t really work with me much.

Well, in the middle of the game, I am up for the second time. Having gotten out in my first at-bat. The next time up, I would be ready.

I am locked in.  Really focused. From the fence I hear my dad yelling at me to do this or that. Wait for it. Frankly, it was really distracting especially for someone who barely attended my games and never came to a practice.

Well, I stepped out of the box and yelled at him to “shut up.”  I needed to focus.

Next pitch, ball four. I walked.

Upon arriving at first base, I was greeted by my coach. Thinking he was going to tell me good job, way to be patient up there, or things will just keep getting better.

Instead, he pulled me from the game.

Upon arriving back in the dugout, I asked the coach, “Why?”

To which he replied, “Your father asked me to pull you from the game.”

I was livid. I don’t know if I had ever felt anger like that.

So, I grabbed the bat, yelling while I ran to leave the dugout toward my father.

My coach, being this large, burly man, stopped me and told me to calm down.

But I was enraged.

As my coach attempted to calm the situation down, I looked over at my dad and saw him say, “Let him come.”

That only made me see red more.

After multiple attempts to get to him, I calmed down. Sat on the bench and cried. Surrounded by my teammates. Trying to console me.

The lesson I learned that day is that absent a relationship, accountability is harassment.

You don’t get to tell me what is good for me when you haven’t before. Or attempted to before.

Had one of the coaches said something that day (and they had), I would have listened. After all, we had been working together. We had that trust. That relationship.

With my son and during his games, I only engage as much as he wants. He has the coaches around him to provide that guidance and me to be there for support and reinforcement.

One game a few weeks ago, my son and I were driving home after he had a rough series. My son being the far better player than I ever was, we talked and I listened. This is not normal, as my son does not always express himself to me or emote much.

We had a good conversation about hitting and what he was thinking about. We had hired a hitting instructor, but he was not ready to use him yet.

While on our drive home, I said, “Would you like to go see the hitting instructor?”

He said, “Yes, can we go now?”

“Let me call him and see if he is available,” I replied.

He was, so we went.

And my son has been on a tear in the batter’s box ever since!

You don’t get to choose when you can engage.

But you can just try to be there.

In life and in business. ALWAYS.

-J.D.