How Did That Happen?

A crack of the bat and the ball rises into the blue sky. It rises higher and higher, almost in slow motion, fighting the pull of gravity until it reaches the apex of its trajectory and begins its high speed journey back to the ground. A player positions himself under the ball and waits for the satisfying thump of the ball finding the pocket of his glove. The crowd holds its breath and waits for the end of the inning. Then a roar from the crowd—joy from the visitors and derision from the home crowd as the ball hits the turf and rolls past the fielder. The runners advance and the visiting team gets another chance to pull victory from the jaws of defeat. In the aftermath, the player who missed the ball looks at his glove like a friend who has let him down, a mixture of bewilderment and embarrassment on his face.

You see this scenario every season. And not just in baseball. Tennis players who miss a shot look at their rackets. Curlers look at their brooms. Football players look at their hands. In every sport in every league from the smallest child to the highest paid professional, if they miss a shot, miss a catch or foul up a play they all look at the tools of their trade, as if for some reason, it's the equipment's fault.

We have all done it. Maybe you are playing Frisbee with the kids. Or badminton with friends. We miss, or drop or otherwise fail and we look for something to blame. Human nature I guess. Nobody wants to be at fault. Not that there is anything wrong with this I guess. It's not the end of the world. Except maybe to the guy who looses the big game when he misses the ball and it rolls between his legs and makes him look like a 5 year old t-ball player, and everybody remembers it for the next 25 years.

There are very few people who play sports who do not do this. I have to laugh every time I see it. After all, it's a poor carpenter who blames his tools.