I know what you’re thinking (thanks Magnum PI!)…

“Here’s another New Year’s Eve prognostication.” Or maybe you’re saying to yourself, “Not another Resolutions post!”

Wait.  If you’ve read this far then you’re hoping, feeling or thinking, “Maybe this will be different.”  And it is. 

When a new year, or in this case a new decade, arises it is very easy to reflect upon the past and focus and plan for the future.  You want to lose weight; make more money; have a better relationship with your family and friends.  Is there anything else?  If so enter it here–> _______.  Get the point?

We all want to begin. Again.

But why?  And how?

Let’s tackle the why first.  As humans, we all have an innate desire to improve – constantly.  And that’s cool.  Who am I to argue?  I want to improve.  And I’m sure you do too.  But why?  Is it something you want to have?  A brand new car or that condo downtown?  Or maybe it’s something you want to be able to do.  Like start your own business or take one month to travel to Spain.

Here’s my question to you:  How long has this been your goal?  My guess is that it’s been in your mind or on your fridge for years.  And if that’s true then the question is not “What do I want to achieve?”  The question to ask is, “HOW do I get my goals?”

Move forward.

So let’s say you want to move to Africa.  That’s your goal.  Move forward.  What do you need to start doing to actually get there.  Do you need a job when you get there?  How about accommodation?  I’d imagine you might need to get some sort of shot. 

Personally, I have no idea about going to Africa.  But the same can be said of anything.  A goal you’re reaching towards is something none of us has ever achieved.  Besides asking ourselves what we need to prepare for, the next best step is to ask someone who has achieved what we want.  So, let’s say I wanted to go to Africa.  I’d ask a few of my cousins and uncles who have actually gone to Africa.  Simple.  They’ve gone and they are willing to help me get there. 

Want to start a business?  Ask someone who has done so.  Want to write and have your book published?  Ask a published author.  Want to learn how to play tennis?  Hire a tennis coach.  I know.  It sounds simple.  It is.

Let’s begin.  What do you want?  Find someone to help you get there.

Happy New Year!

Hey folks!  (I need to come up with a better greeting than “Hey folks!” – What are your suggestions? )

So, here’s my first attempt at video-blogging.  Should I just hide behind my typed words?  Is my face made for “radio”? I’m not the most techie guy (even though I’ve been known to write for a tech website) so excuse the amazing lighting, interesting background music and no make-up.

Other than that, enjoy.

Tina Turner once said that we don’t need another hero.  John Lennon sang about the working class hero.  Def Leppard even wanted to be your hero. Heck, even Meat Loaf thought this was a time for heroes. 

My brother once had an illustration in his bedroom that said “Have Heroes”.

However, time and time again our heroes disappoint us. 

Today, society “creates” heroes through the power of media.  Whether it be television, radio, or the various social media tools on the interwebs we have created heroes to look up to.

We had heroes on the baseball field.  We looked up to A-Rob and Sammy Sosa and Roger Clemons.  Then we tore them down for taking performance enhancing drugs and “cheating”.

We had heroes on television.  Then we threw them on the curb when we found they were cheating on their spouse.

We even had heroes on the radio.  But when he said something off colour we branded him a racist.

The latest hero.  He used to be a Tiger – the most powerful brand in the world and maybe the most recognized face globally.  Now, we can’t wait to forget about him.

Why do we do this?  Why do we build up heroes and then destroy them when they reveal themselves to be less than perfect? 

The easy response would be to suggest that we shouldn’t create these heroes.  We should look up to our teachers, fire-fighters and people we actually know.  We should have our dad, mom or brother or sister as our heroes.  I’m not disagreeing.  But to suggest that we never emotionally invest ourselves into a personality may not be realistic.

I’m a BIG fan of Neil Young.  If, for example, I were to find out that he was involved in anything shady.  Yes.  Initially.  But over the long term, I’m not so sure.  I’ll give you an example.

Chris Benoit.  you remember him?  One of the greatest in-ring professional wrestlers of all time.  He also killed his son, wife and committed suicide a few years ago.  I had a Chris Benoit DVD.  some of the greatest performances you’ll ever see.  It took me a few years before I could watch it again.  But I did.

Why?  Because I wasn’t “in love” with the person.  I enjoyed the “performance”.

You might like the service you get from a waitress or waiter at a restaurant.  Are you interested in what they do outside of work?  No.  You care about what they are giving to you at that moment.  You are thankful for their outstanding service.  And you tip them.

Why is it different when that same person is now performing in the “public”?  Is it because we choose to fall in love?  We can change the channel or leave the stadium whenever we want to.  But we choose to stay. 

And cheer.  Or jeer.

The following post has been re-printed with the permission of the author.  The original article can also be found here.

Sometimes, when I leave the ballpark with a bad taste in my mouth, I take the long way home. Come the next day, if that taste still is there, I take the long way back to the spoon that fed it to me.

Pitching isn’t easy. I’ve never said it is, not even in the arrogance of my youth. Baseball simply won’t allow it to be. No matter how good a pitcher is, he must wind and let go of the ball. In that instant, when the little white dot flies from his hand, anything can, and often does, happen.

This unpredictable nature of baseball is what leads the men who play it to create such fanciful routines, rituals and superstitions — including buckets of chicken, compulsive tooth brushing and the occasional wearing of women’s underwear. Do these things really impact the sport or are they done simply to soothe a player’s mind?

I pray. I’d like to think my invocations are more than superstition, but during times such as these, when I wander to the ballpark, when no amount of compulsive tooth brushing cleanses the disgust, when my supplication becomes frustration about the absence of a changeup, communing with the Almighty seems less than divine.

Maybe it’s how we talk, angrily calling God into the office of my mind during aimless walks around town. Telling Him He needs to shape up, because I have a life and a career and plans He’s supposed to fulfill. I offer to go halfway, but He’s always silent during negotiation, which leads me to grumbling. Come the end, when I’ve dumped it all out, I tell Him I’m tired of meeting under these circumstances.

At the end of my most recent walk/performance evaluation with God, a sound of joy interrupted our talk, pulling my attention from the destination of the locker doors to the patch of four-base-agony I was on last night.

There, on field, were dozens of happy children.

Plastic bases marked miniature diamonds in left, right and center field, populated by parents pitching soft, foamy balls to the long, loopy swings of bat-sized kids. The players were special-needs children. Some played positions in wheelchairs, others from behind braces.

Still others stood, under the pull of autism or Down syndrome.

God and I watched the scene.

When a long swing struck a ball into play, the children let loose with shouts, chasing after the white bauble like freshly lit firecrackers. Once caught, they clamored at the opportunity to throw their prize. To whom or where seemed irrelevant. Just throwing it was fun enough.

Besides, where the ball went didn’t matter. No outs were being collected. The drama was an illusion, but a pleasant one.

The kids reset. A new hitter strode to the plate, a young girl roughly 6 years old with dark hair, a darling smile and no arms. The fabric of her sleeves hung from her shoulders like a flag without wind. Her father came to her side and held a bat with a handle wrapped in a towel. The girl pinched the padded handle between her shoulder and chin. Bat secured, she dug in.

The pitch. The swing. Grounder to everyone!

Down the line ran the girl as the fielders gave chase. She hit first base, promptly ran to second, then to third. The ball was thrown straight up, then chased again. Rounding third, heading home, the slide … safe!

A home run on an infield single, and everyone was happy.

Father met his daughter at home plate, dropped to his knees and hugged her. Despite the absence of arms, she hugged him back, firm and tight. I stood taking it all in. God, I’m sure, smiled.

I couldn’t help but wonder, what did that father and his daughter pray? Was it superstition or sincerity? Were they angry when they called on God? Did they grumble about a lack of fingers to fold while praying, how it wasn’t part of their plan, how they’re tired of meeting under such circumstances?

Or were they grateful to a God that makes hugs and home runs possible, even without arms?

Dirk Hayhurst is a 1999 Canton South High School graduate and a former Mid-American Conference Pitcher of the Year at Kent State University. The 28-year-old right-hander currently is a member of the Toronto Blue Jays, and his book, The Bullpen Gospels: Major League Dreams of a Minor-League Veteran is available for order at Amazon.com.  You can find Dirk on Twitter at www.twitter.com/TheGarfoose