Tag: baseball

  • Helping a Depressed Friend Buy a Gun

    Helping a Depressed Friend Buy a Gun

    Estimated reading time: 5 minutes

    What We Can Learn from an Appalling Lack of Situational Awareness.

    “I’m depressed,” my acquaintance posted on Facebook.

    You’ve probably seen similar testimonials. Someone shares a deep secret on social media. In this case, as expected and warranted, many friends offered their support, their love.

    It was one of those moments when you think social media can be a beautiful thing.

    Then, a week later, the same guy posted requesting advice on how to buy a gun. His friends began offering tips on what handgun would be best for him. The same so-called friends who one week ago promised support for his deep depression were offering advice on how he might purchase a firearm.

    It was one of those moments when you think social media can be an awful thing.

    I didn’t know the guy well. “Friend” has become a loose label thanks to social media. To call this guy a friend would be too strong, “Acquaintance” was more accurate. Still, even though I’d only met him a few times, I felt I had to say something.

    A generous conclusion would be his friends were oblivious. Maybe they didn’t remember all the bro-hugging about support against depression from the previous week. I hesitated. Would this be some sort of social overstepping?

    I thought about it overnight. The man’s safety was urgent enough that I was willing to risk our acquaintanceship. I couldn’t be silent, and so I replied to all the responses to his “What’s a good gun?” request. In essence, I said this: “How dare you help your friend buy a gun when he just said he’s severely depressed! Are you all stupid?”

    Speaking Up with Surprising Results

    The replies came back much as I feared. I don’t need to tell you what they said. You already know. They were the same logic-free NRA talking points that have been circulating for years.

    • “He has a right to a gun.”
    •  “If he’s going to kill himself, he’ll find another way, so why does getting the gun matter?”
    • The one I remember most was the context-free one: “We don’t want to become Europe.”

    Who said anything about Europe? I wasn’t discussing gun control, hadn’t even mentioned that topic. This wasn’t a debate. I was addressing a very practical matter: our acquaintance/friend recently told us all that he struggles with extreme depression. Then, mere days later, he expressed interest in buying a gun, and many of his so-called friends gave him advice on how to do so.

    What about that sequence sounds okay to you? To ANYONE except those in the thrall of gun cult mythology?

    To conclude this sad tale, the depressed guy answered all our comments with some mush about appreciating “both sides” of the discussion.

    I wanted to say, “You need some new friends, stat.” But it never came to that, because soon after his “both sides” comment, he deleted it all: his request for gun-shopping advice, his dumb “friends” telling him how to get one and which would be best, and my post scolding them.

    That was the last I heard of it.

    I hope I made a difference but I’m not optimistic. Since he was but an acquaintance, I disconnected from him on social media. I did not want to be around should the obvious happen.

    The Mental Component

    That’s what happened and it is a true story, but I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me. A skeptical person would think I made the story up to promote an agenda. There’s a lot of that going on.

    People make up anecdotes that support their views. They make claims, say, that a person in the military came up to them and told them (in tears) how bad the current president is. Or some religious person claims that dozens of atheists arrived at their temple and wept because they were so hopeless. Or whatever. The sales pitches are never-ending.

    I appreciate skepticism, but if you look around you’ll observe your own stories just like the one I mentioned earlier. Here in the USA, there’s no end of firearm owners who lack situational awareness, that is, the mental component of competent action. Here’s some samples: A person knocks on a door because they’re lost and gets shot. Police arrive at the wrong address with tragic results. A sound of a falling acorn, a plastic bag thrown, all result in shots fired.

    Knowing HOW is not the same as knowing WHEN and WHY

    What worries me most are these amateur commandos think that just because they have shown competency at a firing range, that they understand all there is to about shooting and killing another person. They think that just because they have proven that they know HOW to shoot a weapon, their work is done. They don’t seem to devote much time to pondering or training about WHEN and WHY to shoot one. Their noble impulse to defend themselves and others becomes dangerous because their practice is incomplete.

    They haven’t tested themselves under real-world less-than-ideal conditions. Such as, if they are half-asleep and they think an intruder is in their home. Or if they are exhausted. Or if they are afraid, or babysitting an infant, etc.

    I personally do not own a firearm, and despite my leanings and preferences, I’m not as anti-firearm as you might suspect. I see a use for them, but I see far much more carelessness and very little attention paid to the mental component of action. 

    This isn’t just about weapons, though — this is about anything and any action. When you’re planning for action remember there’s more than just HOW, there’s also WHEN and WHY. There is always a mental piece, and often an emotional piece. All of these play into it and we need to train on them just as much — if not more.

  • What I Learned From Catching a Foul Ball With My Butt

    What I Learned From Catching a Foul Ball With My Butt

    Estimated reading time: 5 minutes

    Surrendering to the Common Wisdom

    Being non-conformist should be done wisely. Many have observed before that if you just think the opposite of something on reflex, you’re just as confined as a conformist. You’re “conforming to the non” as I like to put it.

    Still, there are some clichés, some bits of common wisdom, that I resist because of their pessimism. For example, one cliché I don’t like – but I have to acknowledge is true – is, “Life isn’t fair.”

    I used to hate the idea of calling life unfair. It just seemed so… unfair. I tried to say that it was people that are unfair, not life, but that’s wrong. Some people are born with horrific diseases, that’s not the fault of optional human action. That’s biology. That’s life.

    Fine. You win. I lose. Life is unfair.

    Now when it comes to calling life unfair, I burn with the passion of the converted. I look back at my ultra-naïve youthful self and laugh with contempt: “You once believed in the Tooth Fairy. Even worse, you clung to the idea that life could be fair!”

    So what finally convinced me? What does this have to do with catching a baseball hit foul with my butt?

    Well…

    Getting What You Don’t Want

    I have realized life is really unfair because it seems to have this annoying tendency to give you things you don’t want, and keep things away from you that you do want.

    For this story, let’s review people’s tendency to lose their minds trying to catch balls that go out of play in major-league baseball games.

    There’s the story of a man who fell and died.

    There’s a guy who almost died.

    There’s a woman who stole a ball from a child.

    There’s a guy who dropped his child as he went for a foul.

    There’s plenty more examples of injuries and bad behavior as people chase baseballs if you want to search for them.

    People really really really want to get their hands on a ball at baseball games. I don’t understand it, and never have. It’s fun, but not worth dying over, or acting like a horrible person. It’s just a ball. And that’s exactly why life, being the unfair jerk it is, delivered one to me with the greatest of ease.

    Catching a Major League Baseball Foul Ball

    Back in my early teens, my father scored some good tickets from his job. The seats were a couple dozen rows from third base for a Philadelphia Phillies game. It was a great day, just me and pop watching a daytime, weekday ballgame. I wasn’t that into baseball. Never was, but it was fun.

    I was bummed the game wasn’t televised. Being a kid, I wanted to be on TV!

    The date was August 9, 1983 [game stats]. Greg Gross [info] knocked a pitch foul. Everyone around us stood up. I felt confident it wasn’t going to come near me, but I stood up anyway, so as not to get hit in the head, just in case.

    The ball entered the crowd a few rows in front of me. Everyone was shoving and grabbing for it. The ball hit the back of someone’s seat and took a crazy bounce. The feeding frenzy was on. People scrambled and flailed trying to snag the ball. In the chaos, the ball tumbled closer. After a bunch of weird bounces off people, chairs and the cement of the stadium, just like that, the ball landed in my seat. I sat down on it.

    And that’s how I caught a foul ball with my butt.

    Totally awesome, right? Well yeah. It was fun and funny how it happened, and I felt lucky, but once the foul-hunters sat down again, I grabbed the ball and stood up with it triumphantly. That’s tradition! And it’s also customary to show the lucky fan on the jumbo screen! Now that was something I wanted. If I couldn’t be on TV, at least I could have that.

    But whoever was running the camera for the jumbo screen didn’t care to show me. People around went back to their seats, and the game went on. Dang it. But so what? You’re saying. You caught a foul ball! Years later a man would fall to his death in front of his son trying to get one!

    True, but I wanted to be on the jumbo screen! Life is unfair!

    Being Lucky in Ways You Don’t Want to Be and Unlucky in Ways you Want to Be Lucky

    After the game, I gave the ball to my dad. He’s the baseball fan. I’ve always been a follower of faster-moving sports, like… well, like anything. After years of my dad holding the foul ball he finally insisted I take it back. You caught it, he said, you should have it. And I still do. In a plastic box, that’s in a cardboard box, under my bed, under a fine layer of dust.  

    I can hear you now: you could sell it online. I could. Online sales have created a reason for people to collect anything and everything, because surely someone else will pay more for it than you did, even if it is intrinsically worthless. What’s that? No, I didn’t intend that as a critique of “investing” in gold, but yes, it does serve as one.

    Anyway, yes, I could sell the foul ball. I could even donate the money to charity, but I won’t now. It’s become a symbol to me: a reminder that life is unfair. That sometimes annoying clichés are true and that the grass is always greener on the other side.

    I think the trick is, for the things we want, we should pretend we don’t want them and sneak up on them. Then when life isn’t looking, we make a quick grab. But when isn’t life looking?

    It might just be easier to appreciate what we get, even if it’s not what we want. That’s a good defense against life’s unfairness.