Comparison is the Thief of Joy
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Comparison is the Thief of Joy: [00:00:00] Of all the Jerry Seinfeld content out there in the world, I think this conversation may be one of the most impactful moments he made on my life and my officiating career.
Hey, hey, hey, I'm on vacation, every single day, cause I love my occupation. Hey, hey, hey, I'm on vacation, if you don't like your life, then you should go and change it.
Hey, hey, hey, I'm on vacation.
Hey everyone, welcome back to the Pre Game and Umpire Classroom podcast. I'm your host, Patrick Faerber. And today, we're exploring a powerful quote from President Theodore Roosevelt, "Comparison is the thief of joy." Now, before we dive in, I want to share three recent experiences that really brought this concept home for me.
Story one, it was well after the season had ended when I received an unexpected call from a member of my high school association. It was a call from a member of my high school association. And after some small talk, he finally got to the real reason for [00:01:00] his call. He asked me, how exactly does the association leadership determine the postseason ranking?
There's another umpire who thinks he's been overlooked. So, realizing the call was probably more about complaining versus education, I made sure to give him a good response. Look, there are many factors at play here. Yes, we look at ball strike and safe out accuracy, but there's more to it. We consider whether you're primarily a high school or college umpire.
You know, if you're mostly college, that's great. We still need you for games, but your goals should probably be more focused on the college level. You know, we also factor in the number of games you worked, tenure in the association, and your service, like helping with training. Sometimes, we even consider if someone's retiring or moving on from the high school level.
Now, he was mostly quiet, so I added on, you know, it's not an exact science, but I do have to say, it's disappointing when someone doesn't have the courage to ask these questions directly. [00:02:00] Radical candor is crucial. How can things improve if people aren't willing to attach their names to their ideas and feelings?
And, this conversation made me realize, I should probably be more transparent about our process, But it also highlighted a deeper issue, the need for open communication and the danger of silent comparisons. Now, the second story comes from earlier this week. I'm working a college summer game in my local area paired with an umpire I've never met before.
He's 68 years old, maybe 5 foot 8, and as we chatted before the game, we talked about how he's retired and umpiring is what he claims he loves to do. So I asked him if he does high school baseball as well, and his response floored me. Nah, I quit high school baseball. Got pissed off when someone else got a deeper playoff round than me.
You know, I do college umpiring too, so it was bullshit to put someone else in front of me. I was stunned. This man had given up something he claimed to love, [00:03:00] because someone else got an assignment he wanted? That seems so weak. You know, let's be real. Any decent varsity baseball umpire can work quote unquote college baseball at the D3 and JUCO levels.
It's not that impressive. But outside of whether or not he really is better than the other umpires, to quit entirely because someone else got a higher round? That's letting comparison steal your joy big time. And the third story happened just a few days ago at the basketball camp. I'm there, you know, for training.
I'm there as a student and, you know, looking to learn and improve. And an umpire I recognized from GHSA Baseball approaches me and makes about 30 seconds of small talk, but then launches into a complaint. He says, you know, I was really disappointed that so and so got a higher round in the playoffs than me.
Now, we had only two minutes to talk. That's all the time we had before I needed to be on the court. So we only had a short amount of time to talk, and he chose to [00:04:00] use those precious moments to complain about someone else's success? Rather than asking about improving his own skills or discussing the intricacies of the game, he chose to use it to complain about someone else?
Getting a good assignment for them? This isn't being a good partner or a good umpire. This official has just completed a 10 week season, undoubtedly with both triumphs and challenges. You know, he made it to the playoffs, an achievement in itself, and yet he was summarizing his entire season. Based on whether he got to work two or three more games at the end.
What a waste of energy and passion. And just, the mindset that you're taking to all of this. You're summarizing all this hard work, and all this hopefully good work you put in, and you're breaking it down to disappointment over two games at the end of the year? These stories all point to a common theme.[00:05:00]
The danger of letting comparison overshadow our love of the game and our personal growth Which brings us to our main topic. Comparison is the thief of joy, especially in umpiring. I've heard many officials grumble about assignments and compare themselves to their peers, forgetting their initial passion.
If this is truly your calling, don't let comparison steal your enthusiasm. Every game is a chance to honor the sport and grow regardless of its perceived importance. Your worth isn't in the level you officiate, but in the integrity you bring to each game. So, when tempted to compare, remember why you started.
The only comparison that matters is with the umpire you were yesterday and the one you aim to become tomorrow. And this message resonates not just in sports, but in all aspects of life. In fact, it reminds me of a conversation between Jerry Seinfeld and a struggling comedian. It's just like you get to a point where you're like, how much longer can I take it?
What, what, what? Is [00:06:00] time running out? Are you out of time? I'm getting older. Please. I'm getting older. It's not, it's not, you can't, listen, I'm, I'm 29, I feel like I've, I've sacrificed so much of my life. I, the last three years have been a problem. You got something else you would rather have been doing? Uh, not necessarily.
You got other appointments or other places you gotta be? Not necessarily. No, not necessarily. I see all my friends are making a lot of money, a lot of money on Wall Street. I see, like, you know. What? I just see, like, my friends are, you know, they're moving up and I don't, I'm worried. They're moving up?
They're moving up. Are you out of your mind? No, I'm not out of my mind. I just, uh. This has nothing to do with, uh. I've upset you. I've upset the host. No, no, this is a special thing. This has nothing to do with making it. Did you ever stop and compare it in your life and go, Okay, I'm 21, my friends are all married, all having kids, they all have houses, they have some sort of sense of normality.
I agree, but then what do you tell your parents? What do you, you know, [00:07:00] how do you deal with that? What do you tell your parents? Yes. They're like, how do you This is your
Your parents! Let me tell you a story about, uh This is my favorite story about show business. Glenn Miller's orchestra, they were doing some gig somewhere. They can't land where they're supposed to land because it's a winter, snowy night. So they have to land like in this field and walk to the gig. And they're dressed in their suits, they're ready to play, they're carrying their instruments.
So they're walking through the snow. And it's wet and it's slushy. And in the distance they see this little house. And there's lights on on the inside, there's a pearl of smoke coming out of the chimney. They go up to the house. They look in the window and in the window they see this, this family. There's a guy and his wife and she's beautiful and there's two kids and they're, they're all sitting around the table and they're smiling and they're laughing and they're eating.
And there's a fire in the fireplace. And these guys are standing there in their suits and they're wet and they're shivering. And they're holding their instruments. [00:08:00] And they're watching this incredible Norman Rockwell scene. One guy turns to the other guy and goes, How do people live like that?
That's what it's about. Of all the Seinfeld content out there in the world, I think this conversation may be one of the most impactful moments he made on my life. The point of Jerry's story is profound. Life is about doing what you want to do, embracing both the good and the bad that come with your chosen path, and it's about focusing on your own story rather than comparing it to others.
This anecdote parallels umpiring perfectly. Just like in show business or any passion driven career. It's easy to get caught up in comparing our assignments, our progress, or our career trajectories to those of our peers. But as Seinfeld points out, true fulfillment comes from pursuing what we love regardless of how it might look to others.
So let's think about this in [00:09:00] terms of umpiring. When you're standing on that field, calling a game on a perfect spring evening, do you ever think, how do people live any other way? That's the feeling we should be chasing, not the external markers of success that others might value. Now, let's discuss how we can apply these lessons to our lives as umpires and what we should look to bring to our association.
For me, I think there are five key takeaways we need to focus on. 1. Focus on your own growth Instead of worrying about other's assignments, concentrate on improving your skills with each game. The truth is, you probably are not the caliber of an MLB umpire, and we all have something to improve on. A good umpire listens to what they are told to work on, and then improves that part of their game.
A great umpire recognizes on their own what they need to work on, and can push themselves for self improvement without input from others. And I can tell you the [00:10:00] best umpires Always have something they are working on in every single game to improve. Second, find joy in the process. Remember why you started umpiring.
Was it for the love of the game? Reconnect with that passion. Third, celebrate other's successes. When a colleague gets a great assignment, be genuinely happy for them. Their success doesn't diminish your value. There is a limited number of playoff spots at each round, And it's okay to simply say, they ran out of spots, they'll get me next time.
Don't spend any time comparing assignments. Fourth, redefine success. Is success for you really comparing yourself to others in regards to one or two assignments? Or is success based on the quality of your performance on the field? Is it based on the last 20 weeks of work and effort you put into this season, starting from the first training of the year?
MLB has 100 plus umpires working their games this [00:11:00] year. But only seven get to work the World Series. Do you think the others get upset and threaten to quit because they didn't get that assignment? Of course not. They know that, one, there simply is a limited number of spots, but also, there are a lot of factors that go into assignments, and part of it is just a bit of random human element.
But they also know they can't let their whole season and career be based on that. It's all about the games they work over the course of their season, and at the end of the year. Can they say to themselves that they gave it 100 percent effort and continued to build their skills year after year? And finally, the fifth point, practice radical candor.
Sometimes people do get overlooked, it, it happens. Also, sometimes the process is not very clear, or the outcome may be confusing. It's okay to ask for insight or to gain feedback, but you need to have the courage to put your name to your thoughts and feelings, especially towards your [00:12:00] association leadership.
which is usually fellow umpires. You need to be willing to stand up for yourself, not moping around with other umpires complaining about things you don't understand. And when you start the conversation, simply ask about how they make those judgments and don't start comparing yourself to others unless you are willing to say to the other umpire's face that you think you are a better umpire than them.
If you can't say that to them, but are saying it to the assigner or other partners, then you're not a candid friend and partner. And it's the equivalent of talking behind someone's back. So, as we wrap up today's episode, let's take a moment to reflect on what we've discussed. We've explored how comparisons can steal the joy from our calling, whether it's through silent frustrations, misplaced priorities, or letting others success diminish our own sense of worth.
Remember, every time you step onto that field, You're not just calling a game, you're crafting your own unique [00:13:00] journey. Your worth isn't determined by the level of games you officiate, but by the integrity, passion, and growth you bring to each and every call. So the next time you're tempted to compare your path to others, pause, take a deep breath, and reconnect with that initial spark that drew you to umpiring.
Embrace your own path. Celebrate your calling successes with without diminishing your own, and above all, remember that the most meaningful comparison is not with others, but with the umpire you were yesterday and the one you aspire to become tomorrow. Let's commit to focusing on our growth, finding joy in the process, celebrating others, redefining success on our own terms, and practicing radical candor.
By doing so, we not only become better umpires, but also contribute to a more positive and supportive officiating community. As always, thanks so much for listening, and until next time, keep your eye on the ball, joy in your heart, [00:14:00] and remember, comparison may be the thief of joy, but passion is its greatest defender.
