Make him hit the ball

The man beside me at the game last week wore a hat that read “90 never looked so good”, but the “0” had been taped over — the number “6” written over it with a Sharpie. Before nearly every pitch, he’d call out, “Make him hit the ball!” in a thick, New York accent, the volume somewhere between a shout and a note-to-self.

At first, I smiled at my good fortune to be seated on the bleachers next to such a character. But after hearing the phrase a dozen or so times, I recognized the genius of the cheer.

Think about what the poor eight-year-old boy standing on the pitcher’s mound must be going through. His family and a whole bunch of strangers are watching him there on the mound — more often than not, he’s throwing a wild pitch, and he feels awful because he’s hit three batters already this inning, sending one to first base in tears. The pressure is mounting — the stress is likely triggering a vicious cycle of degraded performance, more walks, and more stress.

The pitcher knows the job: get three players on the other team out, so our team will get another opportunity to score more points. That’s the goal, but it’s rather abstract and tangled for a child with all those eyes on him. Make him hit the ball, on the other hand, points back to what needs to be true for the pitcher to succeed. It's simple, and it reminds a stressed-out kid that it’s not the end of the world if he doesn’t throw a strike — there are other teammates all around to help him get the batter out if he does make contact with the ball. Besides, if the batter does knock the ball into play, it makes the game more interesting for both the people watching and the other players — like my son, who was out in right field at that moment, apparently taking preliminary notes for a longitudinal study on the social habits of ants.

A client recently shared that she has blocked her Thursdays for the work we’re doing together. Thursdays are sacred — no one can schedule meetings with her, and day-to-day tasks are set aside so she can focus uninterrupted. Her objective over the next year is to help move the institution from one in which outputs-first work is often the center of gravity (e.g., producing programs, exhibits, events, because that’s what museums do) to one where evidence and desired outcomes determine what the institution produces. That objective is a version of win the game – important, but easy to get overwhelmed by. Her make him hit the ball is dedicated time on the calendar to make the work possible.

If you’re not making progress on a big, thorny challenge, ask yourself what conditions need to exist for you to succeed. There’s a time for thinking about how all the pieces of a challenge connect, and there’s a time to deliberately not think in a holistic way. Make him hit the ball is a way to get unstuck by thinking in a simple, almost fragmented way. You start by asking: What would have to be the case for us to achieve this? Maybe it’s time on the calendar, like my client. Or maybe it’s:

• gathering some foundational evidence — the bet being that a certain amount or kind of data would give your executive director or board enough confidence to support the change you're working toward

• identifying one thing you can stop doing¹ — the bet being that the time you need already exists inside activities that no longer serve your strategy

Try not to think about the bigger picture for a moment because doing so turns you into the pitcher collapsing under the pressure of winning the game.

What can you do this week to ensure that the ball can be hit at your museum?

Kyle