She was young, energetic and charming. Having grown up with her coach father and two older brothers, she knew the game. So well that she wanted to be perfect.
When there was the slightest doubt as to the proper scorekeeping notation of a bang-bang play, or the correct tabulation of accuracy - was that a hit or an error - she would look to me, as team captain, for resolution.
We developed a system that would settle the dispute quickly and without bias.
Most of the time without bias. It became a bit of a vaudevillian drama. Baseball, after all, is a game of statistics, where the official scorer's decision could mean the difference between an All-Star nomination or a snub. So we played it for all the drama and comedy we could.
We even invented some ad hockery, coining the THTH acronym, Too Hot To Handle. This created some follow-on complexities, but the moment of merriment was worth every bit of mathematical dilemma. It was simply an effective way bubble-up the magical elixir of team chemistry.
We also developed a keen understanding of the frailty of human performance phenomena. We all error. No one is perfect. In our game you were a star if you failed half of the time. We saw lots of E5s, E6s and E7s. We even had a special category when two or more players unwittingly conspired for a TE, a Team Error. If the error was from the managerial or leadership ranks, it was simply an HE, Human Error.
Baseball and softball are not exempt from HE. Nothing this side of computers are.
We see it all the time. What happened? Human Error. What caused it? HE.
Human Error.
It has been suggested that if you aren't erring enough you aren't trying hard enough. If you burn the first pancake, fry another.
As then, I must, or might, be trying too hard.
I still lead the league in HE.
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