This is a true story that happened recently.

After already booking a tee time for a Sunday afternoon, I was asked the night before to cover a game in the early evening.  Aware of the global shortage of officials, I took the game, aware that I would not play all 18 holes the next day.  Tired, hot, frustrated, and hungry, I walked onto a field to umpire a baseball game between nine-year-old kids by myself.  Hoping vulnerability would be my ally, I opened up to both coaches during our pregame conference.
 
“Guys,” I said, “I’m going to be honest with you.  I was pulled off the golf course to cover this game by myself.  I’m tired, hot, and hungry, and my golf game is absolutely terrible, but I know someone must cover this game since there is a shortage of officials.  I ask that everybody play with good sportsmanship.  And above all, please treat me kindly.”  My wry smile was met with a chuckle, as both coaches were jealous that I had gotten onto the golf course.
 
Within two outs being recorded after the first pitch, the coach from the visiting team was complaining about the strike zone.
 
In the top of the second inning with two outs, a batter from the visiting team smoked a fly ball to left field.  The left fielder made a fabulous catch to end the inning, causing the batter to begin to cry.
 
Is it childish to cry over this?  Certainly.  But the kid was also nine.  If anyone is going to cry over this, a child would be the one to do it.  However, the same visiting coach in question didn’t see it that way.  He was having no luck calming the kid down, so he did what came natural:  he fanned the flames and made it worse.  “Stop crying, you baby!” he said.
 
Of course, this made the kid cry more.  Now the kid refused to go out to center field out of protest.  The coach sent a substitute to center field while making it worse.  “You know what you are?  You’re a quitter!”
 
Now the kid was sobbing.
 
The first pitch of the bottom of the second inning was popped up to center field.  The new center fielder camped under it, only to have it go off his glove and fall to the ground.  The coach turned back to the crying kid.  “That’s on you for being a quitter!” he shouted.
 
Then I had to make a call at third base while standing behind home plate.  “He’s out!” I shouted.
 
That same coach was now arguing from the third base coach’s box.  “He dropped the ball!” he shouted.
 
I looked everywhere and could not see the ball on the ground.  I stood by my call.
 
“The third baseman had to reach with his bare hand between the legs of the runner to pick up the ball!  How can you not see that?” he argued.
 
“Look at where I am when I have to make that call,” I explained.  “I can’t see that, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
 
The coach had a few more choice words not suitable for print media, then he walked back to the dugout in disgust.
 
The first batter of the next half-inning smoked a line drive to right-center field.  I hustled from behind the plate for a potential play at second base, but the kid took a turn and headed for third.  I jogged to my left and positioned myself properly.  The runner slid under the tag.  “Safe!” I declared.
 
Now the coach was irate.  He and his assistants created a cacophony of complaints, causing me to become irate as well.  “That’s enough!” I shouted back.
 
One assistant coach didn’t stop, though.  I ejected him.
 
With my blood sugar dropping and significant fatigue settling in, I desperately tried to stop shaking and calm down.  My skin was slightly burnt.  I was out of water.  And I wanted to get out of there badly.
 
That’s when a foul ball hit my collarbone.
 
Nothing was broken, and I was able to continue the game after a medical delay to make sure I was okay, but insult was clearly added to injury…or maybe injury was added to insult.
 
The visiting team, complete with crying kids and complaining coaches, ended up winning.
 
I hobbled to my car when the umpire assignor and the ejected coach approached me.  The coach was nice enough to apologize, although it had to be accompanied by a statement that he had never been ejected prior and he didn’t think what he said warranted an ejection.
 
I took a deep breath, still in throbbing pain from the blow to my collarbone.  “Look,” I began.  “I’ve been doing this for fifteen years.  I’ve worked many levels, from young kids through college.  I’ve befriended professional umpires.  I’ve studied the rule book.  I’ve tried to understand human psychology as it pertains to competition.”
 
Both men stared intently at me, as if they knew what I was going to say next.
 
“This, gentlemen,” I said, “is the type of game that makes me want to quit umpiring.”
 
There was a brief silence.  In that moment, I couldn’t hold back my vulnerable opinion.
 
“I don’t understand how coaches can abuse these kids verbally by calling them quitters.  I don’t understand how you can’t see that we have a global shortage of officials because of this behavior.  Nobody wants to come out here and endure this kind of behavior for $50.  It is ludicrous.”
 
I honestly felt guilt and shame for expressing my opinion.  “Coach your kids however you want,” I concluded.  “But without people like me, you have no games.”

There are many different forms of poor sportsmanship.  Most instances are fueled by negativity, an undesirable result, or uncontrolled criticism.  However, there are times when adults believe they are helping, only to truly be hurting the athletes, coaches, and team.

It’s tough for parents to avoid shouting out what they see and feel during a sporting event, but coaching from the sidelines or behind the fence is a form of poor sportsmanship.  This does not include reinforcing what the coaches are preaching, such as a helpful reminder to an athlete ("Keep boxing out!") or words of encouragement (“Shake that one off and get the next one!”).  What we’re addressing are adults who holler directives with no regard for the coaches, the athletes, and the consequences of their actions.

You’re undermining the coaching staff.  Whether you agree with them or not, the coaches are in charge of the team.  They decide who is playing when and where, what game strategy shall be used, and what style of play is best.  Yelling out instructions that conflict with what the staff is coaching is exceptionally damaging.  It puts the athlete in a difficult position – "Who should I listen to?  My coach or my parent?"  It can generate doubt amongst other parents who would otherwise not think to partake in the same behavior.  It can also cause strife between teammates.  If the quality of the coaching staff is in question, address it in a parent meeting or after the season is over.

You’re not allowing the athletes to think for themselves.  Telling an athlete what to do, when to do it, where to stand, and when to move is fastening shackles on their ability to develop instinct and creativity.  Yes, it is painful to watch young athletes make mistakes, but it’s how they learn.  Discuss teaching points with them before the game, after the game, or out in the backyard.  But during the game, it’s their time to play. We’ve had our time.

You’re sending a message that listening to the person in charge is optional.  This is a bad message to send on and off the field.  It basically says, “Respect authority, but only if you agree with them.  If not, don’t listen.”  That will not work out long-term in sports or in life.

Most don’t want to hear what you have to say.  Every parent who watches their sons and daughters compete have thoughts, opinions, and emotions.  It’s completely normal.  The need to verbalize those thoughts, opinions, and emotions becomes the issue.  When a spectator constantly complains, yells, or coaches throughout the contest, it’s downright irritating.  It takes away from spectator enjoyment.

If you’re a parent who has difficulty keeping your thoughts to yourself, remove yourself.  Stand down in the corner or in the outfield to give yourself the freedom to react (within reason).  If that’s too much to ask, you should ask yourself why.

It’s understood that not every coach in charge is the best.  Some have great personalities but lack knowledge.  Others can teach the sport but lack composure.  If you’re a parent that has a lot to offer to young athletes, take the appropriate steps to become a coach yourself.  But until then, enjoy the sporting event as a spectator.

During the height of the pandemic, I picked up a new hobby that I turned into a small business:  baking.  I found my grandmother’s old recipes and started dabbling, eventually passing the time by making desserts each week.  When the state of New Jersey decided to join the 21st Century and became the 50th state to allow cottage food sales, I opened a small business where I sold my baked goods prepared from my home.  It’s just a side hustle, but it’s a nice extra source of income that brings me great joy, not just because I can bring smiles to the faces of my customers, but because I can think of my late grandmother as I use her handiwork to keep her legacy alive.
 
When New Jersey finally allowed cottage food sales, a laundry list of regulations was attached to the legislation.  My total profits each year are capped at a certain amount; I cannot sell to private businesses, only people; and I cannot sell outside of New Jersey.  As a result of these restrictions, calculating delivery costs became a hassle.
 
I ultimately decided that I could deliver to thirteen counties in the state, but I couldn’t charge based on the mileage due to my restrictions to neighboring states.  I had to average the cost and charge a flat free regardless of the distance traveled.  Whether I traveled 5 miles or 50 miles, delivery of goods cost $24.99.
 
Consider the thought process of what went into this.  The price of gas skyrocketed to over $4 per gallon.  I was paying for use of my own car, insuring it, maintaining it, etc.  Even the standard mileage rate that the IRS used to calculate tax deductions was getting high!  I knew that the economy was troubled and that some people were struggling, but I also knew that I had to cover my expenses and not lose money if I wanted this business to work.
 
As my first orders began to come in, there was no issue with this delivery fee.  My customers understood the cost of doing business.  But when things started to pick up, more and more potential customers began to complain about this cost.  The complaints were mostly on social media, as if these people needed their opinions heard by the public to be validated and to feel better about themselves.  I tried to politely explain my math and reasoning, but people either didn’t respond or doubled down.
 
About a week after these complaints started, one customer called me after she had received an order.  She raved about my cinnamon swirl bread, but she also inquired about the delivery fee.  She politely expressed that she couldn’t afford the fee with the current economy, but she wanted to keep ordering and wondered if we could find a compromise.
 
That’s when good sportsmanship kicked in.
 
It’s not about what you say; it’s all about how you say it.  This woman realized that a polite discussion might yield her promising results.  It diffused the situation and made me want to help her.  I ultimately crunched some numbers and offered her a financial compromise that allowed her to become a regular customer that was mutually beneficial for us both.
 
It’s no different in sports.  When a call by an official doesn’t favor us or our team, we tend to complain rather than seek to understand it.  Coaches yell at officials thinking it will make them get more calls in the future or make them feel better.  However, this rarely works.  In fact, it hurts them in the long run:  why would an official suddenly see things the coach’s way after the coach uses aggression to make a point?
 
Good sportsmanship isn’t reserved for athletic competition.  It can be used in capitalism.  Rather than complain about the cost of goods or services, wouldn’t it make more sense to understand the cost of something and seek a solution?  Better yet, if something is so outrageously priced, isn’t it better to simply say nothing instead of demeaning an innocent small business owner?

Recently, Ukraine has been devastated by attacks from Russia in what appears to be an attempt to forcefully reunite Ukraine with Russia.  These offensive maneuvers have created a tumultuous time with countless victims, whether counted, estimated, or predicted.

The theater of war does not always provide clear definitions of winners and losers.  On one hand, the American Revolution is taught as an important moment in the birth of the United States of America.  Like then, we tip our caps to those who dedicate themselves to our freedom and way of life.  On the other, war tends to imply casualties, and the loss of life points to the idea that nobody really “wins” in war.

War seems to have similarities to competition with the added addendum of attrition.  Sacrifices are made in the name of the perceived greater good, sometimes invoking the idiom that we "lose the battle to win the war."  In sports, we may see this in terms of the health of our athletes.  A starting pitcher in baseball only plays once every five days due to the physical stress put on his arm.  An entire football team may need a week for their bodies to recover after the physical exertion and stress on the gridiron.  Perhaps this is the genesis of the analogy that relates competition to war, likening the dugout to a fox hole and one's teammates into the other members of the infantry.

However, this attrition points to the fact that the "losers" are not as clear cut as we may believe.  Is it worth having a pitcher overextend himself to the point of injury just to win a game?  He may help you win today, but then he can't help you win for a few weeks if he strains an oblique.  Sure, you won and the other team lost, but did you truly win if the pitcher is then injured for some time?

Ukrainians are not the only victims in this situation with Russia.  Businesses have universally cut ties with Russian owned businesses here in the United States.  Several orchestras of various levels of ability and professionalism have cut Russian composers from their concert programs.  International sports teams refuse to compete with Russian sports team.  Even the International Olympic Committee has recommended that Russian teams and officials withdraw from Olympic contests.  There is an attempt to universally cancel everything Russian in a show of solidarity with Ukraine.  One wonders if people will boycott Russian salad dressing.

Certain sanctions make sense:  they send a capitalist message that hurts Russia in the wallet.  This may actually assist in the altruistic name of deescalating a war.  But what does the boycott of certain Russian themes do in the name of actually stopping a war?  It is the equivalent of the ice bucket challenge to fight ALS:  pouring water on yourself does nothing to advance the research in finding a cure for a disease.

It is practically impossible (and arguably pointless) to try to cancel everything Russian for solidarity, especially when there is no connection to what is happening.  Refusing to eat Russian salad dressing has nothing to do with supporting Ukraine during this conflict.  Society's collective inability to separate these things is an epidemic with disastrous consequences, showcasing how the context of these decisions is exceptionally valuable.

Do we stop enjoying the canon of Harry Potter because J.K. Rowling has certain views on feminism?  Do we no longer listen to Thriller due to Michael Jackson's past with children?  Can we contextually separate the art from the artist, even while consciously comprehending something that could create moral dissonance?

If one player on our favorite baseball team commits a crime off the field, can we continue to root for our favorite team while disapproving of the actions of one player who wears the uniform?

Good sportsmanship comes with the admission that there are winners and losers, but it also comes with the understanding that attrition doesn't always aid us in our desire to win.  Political opponents hurl smears and insults at each other during campaigns, then somehow return to being respectful colleagues once the election is over, claiming it is all part of "how you play the game."  Did the winning candidate actually win if such a victory had to include abusive and brutal treatment from an opponent?  It makes you wonder how hockey players on opposing teams can suddenly be friendly after fights have broken out consistently over the last sixty minutes on the ice.

War is rarely the answer, creating destructive divides that may ultimately achieve a task at the cost of many other things.  But making decisions in the name of solidarity without the proper context may simply be pointless acts of poor sportsmanship.

The 2022 Olympic Winter Games inspired me to reflect on a sportsmanship situation we encountered a few years ago.
 
While manning a table at a local town fair, a woman approached us and became combative (in front of children, no less), expressing her opinion that she did not see a need for OSIP to exist, claiming OSIP is another form of a participation trophy. 
 
This couldn't be further from the truth.
 
For some background, OSIP's mission statement is: 
 

1. To provide financial aid and assistance to those affected by acts of aggression due to poor sportsmanship and/or fanship, and,
2. To raise awareness of the need for better sportsmanship in all capacities throughout sports and competition.

 
We would love nothing more than to not have to exist, but as it stands now, there are lots of eyes that can greatly benefit from being opened on the subject.  Sportsmanship exists beyond athletic settings; it goes with us on the journey we call life.  Competition plays a role in politics, the workplace, and many other facets and situations.  Participation trophies do nothing to help young minds learn how to handle these scenarios.  Winning isn’t everything (though the desire to win and give it “your all” on the field is celebrated); being able to lose and accept it with dignity is just as important than winning (if not more so).  Learning how to lose in organized sports is an important lesson just as it is when you’re in the running for a job, an election, or any other related capacity.
 
“Participation trophies actually take away from the concept of sportsmanship,” said OSIP Chairperson Sean Ryan.  “The process of winning and losing and how to accept those situations gracefully is a life lesson.  Failing is learning while winning should be humbling.  Participation trophies, depending on their context, can represent winning without trying.  To truly experience winning, we first must experience losing and what it feels like.  This way, outcomes are more appreciated and accepted.”
 
“How exactly would the Brian Stow incident or a young athlete yelling at umpires relate to a participation trophy?” asks OSIP Vice-Chairperson Sean Gough.  “Were violence and whining the trophies?  Seems telling, too, that those who bash from afar often stereotype by invoking participation trophies.  Aside from the lack of originality, the confusion of decency with coddling already suggests a problem with their conceptions of sportsmanship.”  
 
So, once the pandemic storm calms, if you see us at a community event, please stop by, say hi, and help us spread the good word.  Heck, we will even sweeten the deal with some giveaway candy.
 
There is so much more to be said about this topic, more than I can muster in this blog post.  But if you’ve made it this far: rock on!  Please don’t let me bring your interest to an abrupt stop here.
 
Allow me to introduce you to “On Sportsmanship: A Critical Reader and Handbook,” available in paperback, hardcover, and Kindle formats from Amazon.  Happy reading, and happy good-sportsman-ing!  
 
OSIP is always looking for more people who would like to get involved.  Visit www.osipfoundation.org for more information.  (Although, since we already have three people named Sean, if your name happens to be Sean, we may need to lovingly assign you a new alias.)

If there’s one thing I’ve learned since March 2020, it’s that fear is one of the most, if not the most, powerful tool in the woodshed.
 
The concept of fear is rooted in our human ability to sense danger and to avoid it.  Ancient man would fear predators in the wilderness for the sake of survival.  Presently, we can use fear in more conventional ways, like when we feel uncomfortable around the possibility of skydiving.  It’s quite a reasonable barometer in these contexts.
 
Fear usually encompasses the unknown:  we fear what we don’t know.  What will happen if I approach this predator?  Could I sustain injury if I skydive?  Even in situations where we have reasonable security that we can predict the outcome of actions, we’re never one hundred percent sure.  A parent may naturally fear his or her child going away to college due to the unknown that awaits ahead, but the parent usually comes to terms with this, perhaps drawing on his or her own experiences, and understands that, although there is no absolute guarantee of safety, the odds are that the child will be okay.
 
On a simpler scale, fear of the unknown may be the motivating factor for a child to resist trying a new food.  Young minds may default to not liking something simply because there is no experience of it yet.  If we have yet to understand something, we tend to default to a dislike of it or a fear of it.
 
Sometimes, fear comes from trauma.  If we are bitten by a dog when we have our first experience with one, the pain caused by the physical bite may cause us to fear dogs for the remainder of our lives if we do not work to overcome the fear.  If fear can manifest from both the the unknown and the experience of trauma, we can see why fear is so powerful.
 
Where fear becomes abusive is when our human behavior is altered beyond reason for abnormal motives, such as control, revenge, or wealth.  When fear controls us, we are the prime audience for Franklin D. Roosevelt’s quote:  “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”
 
When the tool of fear falls into the wrong hands, it can be used in acts of poor sportsmanship.  Sports teams can use fear to psychologically intimidate opponents, perhaps through embarrassment or threat of injury.  Parents can use fear to try to control the actions of their children, causing the children to fear the repercussions if they do not do as the parents say.  Coaches may fear their future when their job is on the line.  Officials may fear the possibility of a player or coach arguing with them.  The list of possibilities is endless.
 
If we consider the six roles discussed in my book, “On Sportsmanship:  A Critical Reader and Handbook” (available now on Amazon for Kindle and in both paperback and hardcover), that encompass the first part of the text, we can see from the above examples that players, coaches, fans, parents, and officials can be affected by fear.  What about the media, though?
 
The fact of the matter is that the media can manipulate the public through fear very easily, and that is an act of poor sportsmanship.  These entities have the power to dictate to us how to feel based on what is reported, regardless of whether it is fact or not.  If we are told that sports officials are bad by the media, then we can subconsciously begin to believe this.  If we are told that our team’s archrival is the enemy, we may see them as opponents in a theater of war rather than on a field, court, rink, or pitch.
 
Not all media outlets are bad, and not all journalists are nefarious.  Further, we can be our own worst enemy in terms of fear, hearing and believing only what we want and refusing to use the concepts of critical thinking and analysis to formulate new breakthrough thoughts.
 
Consider the path of fear that has traversed the public during this pandemic.  We defaulted to fear because the virus was novel; without prior information or evidence, we assumed the worst rather than waiting to examine evidence and compare data.  We feared what could happen to us if we left our homes:  we didn’t know what might happen if we contracted the virus, so we forced ourselves to stay safe, especially without a cure or vaccine.  We convinced ourselves that wearing multiple face coverings and social distancing would stop the virus while we diligently worked for a vaccine.  What’s worse, though, is that we convinced ourselves that anything reported to us with a twist of fear had to be fact and, thus, feared.
 
Before the warmer weather of 2021 and the distribution of vaccines, plausible arguments could be made to support any claim on how to combat this threat; there was reasonable doubt and a lack of supporting evidence that allowed our fear to maintain its hold on us.  In fact, fear spread quicker and did more damage than the virus could ever do, harming our mental states in ways that will stay with us for years, if not decades, after this story has run its course.  However, we now live in a time and an environment where we have a choice.  We have reached the fork in the road, to call back to our post from last month!
 
One path leads us to sanity.  We will come to understand that we have the tools to live normal lives without fear of this virus.  We have vaccines that work when we receive our full dosage and booster (not to mention that will continue to be studied since they were expedited without the examination of long-term data).  If you’re not a fan of vaccines, we still have plenty of other things to help protect us, such as using good hygienic practices (washing our hands, not touching our face, etc.) and staying home when we’re sick.  And we also have the medical tools to help us feel better when we are sick, either via at-home remedies or in medical facilities.  We can take off the masks, throw them away, ditch the mandates, and be ourselves.
 
The other path leads us back to irrational fear.  We can sit at home and not live our normal lives, afraid that the virus will get us if we leave the four walls that surround us.  We can think that contact with anyone could lead to contracting the virus.  We can think that the vaccine and all other methods of prevention and cure are simply not enough, perhaps tainted by other entities such as the government.  We can wear multiple masks, believing that this piece of magic cloth has the power to prevent all illness and is the key to preserving what remains of life in this apocalyptic existence.  We can never go back to the way our lives were because the fear of what if will keep us safe and prevent anything bad from happening.  (Spoiler alert:  said fear will not prevent bad things from happening.)
 
One path teaches us to fight fear the same way we fight poor sportsmanship:  leading by example, empowering those who support the same ideals, and being beacons of good morals.  The other path encourages fear and poor sportsmanship, promoting its growth and spread like a virus.
 
I know which path I’m taking.  Which will you choose?

There are moments in nearly every sporting event when a player, coach, or fan encounters a fork in the road.  Do I take the path that allows my emotions to get the best of me and fall victim to a display of poor sportsmanship?  Or do I take the path of discipline and show poise?

There are so many elements surrounding athletic events that we don’t control.  Demonstrating good sportsmanship is a component that lies 100 percent within our control.  When confronted with a situation riddled with turmoil, every coach, player, and parent gets to determine how they will handle their actions.

Let’s take a simple example of when an athlete encounters a fork in the road.  Consider a baseball game where a batter is at the plate with the bases loaded and one out.  It’s late in the game and the batter's team is down by one run.  With a 2-2 count, the batter takes a called strike three.  In that moment, the batter has a decision to make:

1. Walk back to the dugout, put the bat and helmet away, find a seat in the dugout, and look out towards the batter’s box, or,
2. Show bad body language that lets everyone know the batter thinks the umpire is at fault, like yelling something at the ump as the batter returns to the dugout, followed by slamming the bat and helmet in disgust while pacing the dugout and complaining about the call.

Decision 1 is clearly the showcase of good sportsmanship, but it’s also in the best interest of the athlete because it’s smart.  If the batter calmly walks back to the dugout, all eyes in the ballpark will shift to the next hitter.  Decision 2 extends the failed plate appearance, keeping the eyes in the ballpark on that batter.  It’s now not just a strikeout with the bases loaded:  it's also a moment that reflects poorly on the athlete’s character.

Listen, it’s not easy.  Competitive juices are flowing; an opportunity to have a big moment was missed, composed with failure in front of everyone in attendance.  But one must work at it, just like other aspects of the game.  Further, any successful athlete will tell you that the most important play is the next play.  If emotions can't be kept in check, the ability to focus on the next play will suffer.

Teammates will notice.  Opponents will notice.  Coaches will notice.  Game officials will notice.  Recruiters will notice.

Make the decision to become exceptional at sportsmanship.  You’ll not only choose the right path at each fork you encounter, but you’ll begin to take others with you.

Topics like this and more are discussed regularly on How You Play The Game, the official podcast of OSIP.  On January 1, OSIP founder Jack Furlong and chairperson Sean Ryan will produce their 100th episode of the program.  Dale Scott will join them on the podcast, and Furlong will announce the release of his highly anticipated book, On Sportsmanship: A Critical Reader and Handbook.  The mission of the book is to “reveal the steps to ensuring that each person does their best at treating others with respect in sports and competition.”

Tune in to listen to the podcast and also learn more about OSIP at osipfoundation.org.

As 2019 comes to a close, we wrap our year with one final topic before we move on:  the ignorance of pundits to facts.

However, we're not talking about politics or the news.  That's beyond the scope of this blog.  The one item to address:  Game 6 of the 2019 World Series.

In Game 6, the Washington Nationals almost self-destructed into handing a championship to the Houston Astros.  Trea Turner was called out due to runner's lane interference by umpire Sam Holbrook, causing a frenzy both on the field and in the media.  Manager Dave Martinez was ejected from a World Series game due to this.  Fans all over social media were ready to lynch Holbrook.  The championship of baseball was about to be determined by an umpire's call for interference...until Anthony Rendon hit a ball into the seats and extended the series to Game 7, where the Nationals would ultimately win.

The problem?  The call was CORRECT.

Every person who complained about the call failed to realize that it was the correct call.  The runner cannot run outside of the lane in the last half of the distance from home to first base.  But even after cooler heads prevailed and Thanksgiving approached, Christopher "Mad Dog" Russo and his cohorts continue to harp on the fact that interference should not have been called.

Russo doubled down on his claim by stating that MLB officials were thankful for the Rendon home run because it took the focus off the play in question.  Perhaps the statement was more opinion than fact, and perhaps MLB was prepared to stand by the call if necessary as the correct call, even if it meant the entertainment value of the sport was severely diminished.  But the constant pushing of such an opinion rings of the older pundit who refuses to accept that the opinion is simply wrong.

Maybe this is a microcosm of our society in general.  We dig our heels in when our opinions are challenged and claim that we are allowed to have our own opinions, even when they are wrong.  Our defenses go up because our integrity appears to be challenged.  It's a tired song and dance that speaks to our inability to have a meaningful conversation and progress as a society.

Note this, though:  to progress as a society does not have a correlation to being a stereotypical progressive.  It has nothing to do with the alignment with the left and the right of the political spectrum.  It simply means being respectful to the facts and understanding that nobody will think less of you if you happen to change your opinion.

The issue is that it's easier to just turn off the television or the radio than to actually offer a differing opinion.

The fact of the matter is that we're not here to push an agenda.  We're here to simply awaken people to civil reality and ask that they treat others the way they would wish to be treated.  It has become a difficult task, but one we at OSIP are proud to undertake.

That's why we are here to announce that our blog, The Strike Zone, will be changing.  Namely, the posts will be few and far between.  The success of our podcast, How You Play The Game, has taken more of our attention, and there is only so much time to go around.  Both the blog and the podcast duplicate the same purpose:  for us to discuss issues of sportsmanship in a particular manner.  We may continue to use the blog for some posts from time to time, and we will not be taking our posts down.  But the regular posts on the third Wednesday of each month will cease, and we encourage you to listen to our podcast, which is released on the 1st and 15th of each month.  And like we said above, perhaps we may change our minds later and come back to the blog.  We know you won't think less of us!

Until next time, as we say on the podcast, treat each other with respect.

Last month, we discussed the poor behavior by players and coaches while noting the psychological aspects of the conflict.  Now, in an act of therapy, let's look at the conflict that arises in the mind of the dissenting fan.

Allow me to break whatever the blog equivalent is of the fourth wall is (which barely even applies because I am transitioning from a discussion that does not involve myself to one that tells a personal narrative) as I tell a story about my experience.

One of the more difficult conflicts I experienced this past summer dealt with my personal connection to the New York Yankees as they rose to prominence with unsportsmanlike conduct being used as a bonding catalyst.  Whether it was Aaron Boone's "Savages In The Box" tirade or Brett Gardner's violent attack on the dugout with his bat, the team and the fans rallied around these drive success in the old "us against the world" last stand that tends to be high-risk-high-reward.

Before September even arrived, I found myself heartbroken that my Yankees would act in such a way.  I felt like the Yankees didn't care about me, a diehard fan, because this new methodology created a stronger bond among the players and the larger fan base.  However, I had the ability to take a brief step back and examine the oddity of why I would feel such grief over this.

This grief seemed unfounded.  Nobody died.  Nobody broke up with me.  However, a personal relationship significantly changed, and that's where I discovered the heart of the problem.

As fans, we form a bond with our teams and our athletes to the point where we project ourselves onto them.  We identify with them.  We consider ourselves part of the team.  We even put ourselves in the shoes of our favorite athletes much like how we put ourselves in the shoes of our favorite superheroes.  It's the adult equivalent to when we would pretend to be our favorite athlete in the backyard and play through scenarios of hitting the walk-off home run in Game 7 of the World Series.

So when the Yankees began to act this way, I was heartbroken because I saw myself as part of the team that was doing this.  I felt like I was being personally attacked and offended by the people I loved (where I felt I belonged).  In the fantasy world of my mind, I saw myself as yet another person in that clubhouse who put on the pinstripes each day.  And now I felt like the ostracized member of the team that refused to bond, making me the outcast in the clubhouse, probably soon to be cut, traded, or just let go.

As an aside, keep in mind that the primitive mindset of the athletic culture maintains this type of idiotic bonding as a staple, even when the rest of the culture is adapting to the pampering of spoiled athletes and a more modern approach that differs from how things were in the past 50-plus years.  Frankly, none of these methods, whether primitive or modern, are 100% right and have significant flaws that were never reconciled.  So if a player didn't go along with whatever was happening in the clubhouse, that player was (and still can be) demoralized and outcast like a high school clique.

Regardless, what we can control is how we, the individual fans, can handle this feeling of dissatisfaction.  Unfortunately, it requires us to grow up a little, which is difficult.  But with a short term pain comes a long term gain.

The objective is to disassociate ourselves with our favorite teams.  In turn, this may allow us to disassociate with those who do not share our opinion, much like how players and coaches have to disassociate with a call that goes against them from an umpire (as discussed last month).  We can still be a fan of the team and enjoy watching or following the team, but we can do it in a way that says we are more than just a fan.

There is actually an element of empowering to this.  When we identify with a team to the point of being so invested that this disappointment can occur, we limit ourselves into realizing our full potential.  Each of us, as individuals, are more than just a part of a fan base.  We are beautiful beings with value that goes beyond fandom and identification.  This is the same psychological limiting that occurs when we identify with an organization such as a fraternity/sorority to the point of a volunteer affiliation with no tangible benefit other than just "being a part of something."

You have the ability to see yourself as more than just a blind fan.  You have the ability to proclaim that you are a dissenting fan who roots for a team without endorsing a behavior.  It's quite similar to the method that should be used more in politics, where you can have the opinions that align with a particular ideology without necessarily endorsing a candidate, legislation, or decisions.  You don't have to be grouped into the whole.

You are beautiful.

During the course of the 2019 MLB regular season, there was an increase in poor behavior that required policing, thus drawing the ire of the public and the media.  But the ire was not drawn because of the behavior, but rather the psychological projection onto those visibly doing the policing.

The most obvious example is the New York Yankees, whose culture of class that was so prominent in the days of Jeter and Rivera cannot be matched by Judge and Gregorius.  The "leaders" on the team, notably manager Aaron Boone and elder statesmen CC Sabathia and Brett Gardner, have led the team into being examples for kids that promote behavior that continues to divide our society and grow hatred rather than understanding.  The umpires, who are the on-field police (as opposed to the league office, which is practically invisible), become the target of hatred spewed from the uneducated and primitively toxic men playing the game, and yet the umpires are gagged by the league to refrain from responding to such personal attacks.

The media perpetuates this due to their platform, mixed with their lack of research done on the subject of officiating.  Not since the great Vin Scully has a broadcaster actually given the officials their due respect and silently demanded that those who listen to his voice do the same.  And outside of our friends at Close Call Sports, rarely (if ever) has a journalist with prominence stepped up to the plate with the defense of the integrity of the officials.

What those who bash the umpires fail to realize is that the psychology of their words and actions speak volumes about their egos, characters, and personalities.

As Gil Imber from Close Call Sports has said in an eloquently written article (and quoted on his various audio/video posts), criticism of sports officials in a position of authority, especially in such settings with vehemence, is actually a projection of the dissatisfaction with oneself onto an innocent victim.  To say, "I'm dissatisfied with this umpire," is really translated to mean, "I'm dissatisfied with myself."

Let's make a quick clarification, though.  The above translation does not mean, "I disagree with this umpire."  We are allowed to share a different opinion, especially if the call was incorrect.  A pitch that is two tenths of an inch off the outside corner of the plate is, by rule, not a strike, regardless if it's "too close to take."  But respectful disagreement can be communicated without the behavior of a petulant child.

Back to the psychological projection, though:  we must also remember that the denial we may have in accepting this fact is par for the course.  People are afraid to lower their defenses and be vulnerable, especially when it comes to the almost certain inner examination of one's shortcomings.  If we can avoid feeling something bad, why would we put ourselves in a position to feel less than desirable emotions?

The first step to closing this division is empathy.  Somebody has to extend the olive branch, and perhaps that someone is you.  Can you feel empathy for the players who feel wronged, even if you don't agree with their reaction?  Can you feel empathy for the umpires who are not out to be unfair towards a certain player or team?  Can you feel empathy for the media members who are lost when it comes to discussing the topic?

The second step is to begin to stop identifying with your point of view or opinion on the subject.  To identify with it means to be unable to separate who you are from that particular thought.  When dissent occurs and it differs from our opinion, we take that other opinion personally and believe that others are out to attack us.  This is what happens all too quickly on the field:  players and coaches immediately believe that umpires are attacking them with their judgments and interpretations, as opposed to simply doing their job.  When a player stops thinking that he has been "wronged" or personally offended by what he perceives to be a bad call, that player will stop projecting such dissatisfaction with oneself onto the entity he thinks slighted him.

The third step?  Love.  Sportsmanship.  Practice what you preach.