JOINT BASE CHARLESTON, S.C. –
Toward the end of the third grade, my family moved to a small town in Utah. Given the small number of kids my age, it was easy to meet most of them within a very short period after arriving. But it was also somewhat of a problem as there were only a few kids my age to meet. I was having a hard time finding good friends. Once summer arrived and baseball season began, I thought I had found a way to increase in overall coolness and find those friendships that had thus far eluded me.
When I signed up for baseball that year there were no coaches for the team. My dad volunteered for the job. He had played baseball through high school and, according to him, was quite adept at the game. He had tutored me for the six years I had been playing to that point, with admittedly mediocre results, but my thought was that he was a pretty hip guy, the kids on the team would like him as their coach, and I would be more popular as a result. He even said that he had "something special" planned for the first practice. Awesome.
The first practice arrived and I was having a hard time suppressing my excitement. The other 10 kids were about to be wowed. We stepped onto the baseball field and started to warm up with a few throws back and forth to each other. My dad got out of the car and told us to stop. He said we should all line up behind home plate. We did. He walked down to first base and stood to the side of it. He then had us run, one by one, to first base. He told us to do it again, and again, and again. We ran from home plate to first base for the entire hour.
I was mortified. That's it? That's the something special he had planned? I knew I was losing friends I didn't have at an even quicker rate. To make a great story short, the next practice we learned to throw, the following to catch, and the fourth practice we finally worked on hitting. We 11, uniform-less kids from that small town won our region that year, and for the next three years. We had been taught the basics of the game and we executed them well. We weren't flashy; we weren't the strongest or fastest. We didn't have any secret signs on when to steal bases or to bunt. We only had one kid that could hit home runs. We didn't even have uniforms. We just won a lot.
I'm often reminded of that first year with my dad as my coach. I was reminded of it again as a U.S. Air Force Major during a conversation I was having with my boss on an important project I was working on. After I told him my ideas, he responded with "Burton, stop thinking outside the box. You need to learn what the box is and what's inside the box first. Then you can start thinking outside of it." Back to the basics.
With the recent Unit-Self Inspection and accompanying opportunity to go over the responsibilities I have within my office and what each section of the office does with respect to the mission, I felt somewhat the same awkwardness I felt as I watched my would-be friends run repeatedly to first base under my dad's watchful eye. I need to better understand the basics of my job; the basics of the law; the basics of leadership. It may not gain me friends, but I need to ensure the others under my supervision do the same. Thinking outside the box isn't of much use, if we don't have a box to think outside of.
Whether it be in sports, at the office or in relationships with family and friends, getting back to the basics has always served me well. I appreciate the reminders I've received along the way to reign myself in and focus on the fundamentals - be it through a parent, spouse, supervisor, ecclesiastical leader, inspector or coach. Occasionally remind yourself and those around you to think along those lines. Practice running to first base.
Akin to my fourth grade baseball team, even with a focus on basics, our respective offices, missions and personnel may not be the flashiest, strongest or fastest. We'll just win a lot.