You (Probably Shouldn’t) Be the Judge

[disclaimer: this is directed at the guilty parties in general. I promise I’m not mad at YOU!]

When Nik and I started hanging out, I’ll admit I was expecting what’s normally considered a “typical jock.” You know the type. Arrogant, womanizing, not so bright. How could I have guessed he would know all the words to Mister Roboto or have a strange affinity for Kenny Loggins or regularly use the word “otay” like Buckwheat in Little Rascals (totally true. last use: yesterday)?

The thing is, as we’ve dated, I’ve noticed the stereotyping isn’t just reserved for me. The typical things come to mind but there’s a more subtle form of judgment I’ve seen over the past couple of years that’s really starting to get under my skin- it’s like an oversimplified pigeonholing (so eloquent i know).

When you play baseball professionally, you are a baseball player—at the expense of absolutely everything else. Normally when you meet someone new, you usually classify them in order to keep your categorical mind happy. You meet Shirley at a party and she’s really nice and her brother is in the military. You meet Tom at the grocery store (for the record, I’ve never met anyone at the grocery store but let’s just go with it) and you guys like the same music and he loves Odwalla juice. You meet Nik anywhere and he’s a baseball player. No more, no less.

When Nik talks to people, it’s always the same. Meeting for the first time-they ask a million questions about baseball and the minors and how everything works. Catching up-they ask a million questions about baseball and his last outing and how the team looks this year. It’s like the 24-hour baseball network for this guy. And I feel bad. Because guess what? He’s more than a baseball player. He’s a person. He’s funny and musical and artistic and all these other things that people don’t notice because HOW COOL IS IT THAT HE'S A BASEBALL PLAYER?!?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand the compulsion. It’s not everyday you meet a professional baseball player. And that’s the draw. It’s unique. People always notice what’s different. I get it but there has to be a balance because when enough people tell you the same thing enough times, you usually start to believe it.

All the self-help gurus tell the workaholics your job is what you do, it’s not who you are. But when everyone defines you by what you do, the message starts to get hazy. Because what happens when baseball’s over? What happens when you’re hurt or retired or past your prime? I never want Nik to think that baseball is all he has to offer because that’s absolutely not true. So do us a favor and treat athletes like real people with real lives and real challenges who have something more to contribute than what you see on the field. They already have enough people in their lives that think they’re only as good as their last outing.