When I go to baseball games the first thing I do is stop at the stand right inside the ball park doors and buy a scorecard. I love to score baseball games. It slows the game down (I know, I know…some of you are saying baseball is sloooooow already; well I disagree; it’s a game of skill, strategy, and quick thinking). I enjoy the information it gives me in the later innings of the game. And someday I’m going to have a priceless keepsake when I score a no hitter or a have the chance to record some other momentous record.
In her wonderful autobiographical book, Wait ‘Til Next Year, Doris Kearns Goodwin writes about what a joy it is to score a game. Her father faithfully teaches her how to score a game so she can do so as she listens on the radio. Finally, she has the chance to go to a game at Ebbets Field. It’s one of the highlights of her entire life:
I experienced that night what I have experienced many times since: the absolute pleasure that comes from prolonging the winning feeling by reliving the game, first with the scorebook, then with the wrap-up on radio, and finally, once I learned about printed box scores, with the newspaper accounts the next day. But what I remember most is sitting at Ebbets Field for the first time, with my red scorebook on my lap and my father at my side (p. 51).
“My red scorebook on my lap and my father at my side.” I know you are picturing that in your mind right now. And I know you are feeling it in your heart. Would that we could all feel that way at the end of every day.
What if someone spent a day “scoring” your life? What if there were a booth just inside your front office door, and people could buy a card, sit back, and pencil in the home runs, hits, doubles, triples, and strike outs? It might help to have a spectator watching what you do every now and then. It would be humiliating to record a strike out; but just think how awesome it would be to hit a home run! The person “scoring” your day would get to fill in the whole square.
Even if someone else doesn’t “score” your day, what if you did. What if each “inning”/hour/segment you recorded the “score” by jotting down a home run, hit, double, triple, or strike out? It might:
- Slow down your day by putting it into manageable increments
- Provide help in strategizing your next “move,” objective, or goal
- Give information later in the day to help see where you’ve been, where you are, and where you hope to go
- …Or maybe even be a keepsake of a momentous day where everything came together for a “big win”
More than that, maybe you could spend your last few minutes at work with your “red scorebook on (your) lap and (your) (F)ather at your side.” You could prolong that winning feeling, re-live the highs and lows of the day, and boost your productivity the following day. Your Father would be sitting there with a grin on His face, and you would be feeling a wonderful sense of accomplishment.
How do you “score” your day? Any insights?