The Hulu TV show The Bear just concluded its five-season run. While I get that it’s not for everyone (my wife for example), I thoroughly enjoyed the show and am sorry there will be no more episodes.

Since this isn’t a pop culture blog you’re probably wondering why I’m talking about some random show. The answer is fastpitch softball players (and their parents) can learn an important lesson from what I think is one of its best episodes.

The premise in the second season is that Carmen, a high-end chef as well as the youngest brother in a family that owns a Chicago-style sandwich shop called The Original Beef, wants to create a new high-end restaurant as an offshoot of the sandwich place. As part of that, he has to get one of the employees on board.

He has known this employee, Richie, since childhood. In fact, they call each other “cousin” (although they’re not actually cousins because that’s how close they are). Richie has been managing the sandwich shop since the older brother’s unexpected death, and he’s not too keen on the changes Carmen is making. A lot of detail, I know, but bear with me (no pun intended).

Richie argues with Carmen all the time about the way he’s doing things. But Carmen is the boss, so at one point he sends Richie to go work at a local high-end restaurant owned by a friend of his that is recognized internationally as the world’s best restaurant. Needless to say Richie is not happy about it, but he goes, reluctantly.

On his first day he walks in expecting to be given something important to do. I mean, after all, he’s been running his own successful sandwich shop.

Instead, he’s assigned to polish forks. For nine hours. That’s it, just polish forks.

At one point he asks the manager who has been assigned to oversee him what comes after polishing forks, expecting the next step will be something more at his perceived level. The manager drily replies “spoons.”

Richie is convinced Carmen sent him on this assignment to punish him for disagreeing with him, and his bad attitude continues to get worse. He does a half-baked job of polishing some of the forks and he’s told to do it again to remove the streaks. Richie asks what difference does it make, and he’s told in this restaurant a lot.

Because people don’t come there just for the food. They come for the experience. The restaurant is very expensive, and some people save money for a year just to be able to afford to eat there once.

At one point after more complaining the manager asks Richie to step outside, and Richie says “You’ve really drunk the Kool-Aid here. Why?” The manager tells him why, and from that point on Richie’s attitude totally changes and he launches on the best redemption arc in the entire series. In my opinion. From that point on he buys in to what Carmen is doing with The Bear more than anyone else, even Carmen, and it totally changes his own life.

If you’re still with me, the lesson here is how important doing the little things (like polishing the forks) is within the bigger picture.

All too often players want to skip the drills and working on the nuances of particular movements and go right to the finished skills.

Pitchers want to throw full pitches, not work from the K position or on spins close-up. Hitters want to hit off machines or live pitchers instead of doing one-hand drills off the tee or working on specific elements of their swings.

Fielders want to take ground balls or fly balls off the bat instead of working on their glove work or on positioning from a toss. And so on.

To be the best you can be, you have to realize every detail of what you’re doing matters. A one-degree difference in throwing angle on a riseball can make the difference between a swing and a miss and a walk – or a home run.

A one-degree drop of the bat or reduction of the angle as it’s approaching the ball can make the difference between that home run and just a dramatic fly ball out. A slight rearrangement of the feet when throwing across the infield under pressure can mean the difference between an inning-ending out or a game-deflating two-base error.

To do any of that or a thousand other things that are required for success in fastpitch softball you can’t just take them for granted. You have to work on them. Every. Single. Day.

Yes, “polishing the forks” can be mind-numbingly boring. It can make you wonder who’s going to notice, and it can make you feel like you’re falling behind on learning all the fancier skills your peers are telling you they are learning

But trust me, nothing is more important than perfecting these little details to the best of your ability. They are the foundation of everything else that is to come.

If your foundation is shaky, it doesn’t matter how fancy the rest of the building is. It’s not going to be built to last, especially when the pressure is on.

Breaking things down this way isn’t a punishment, Like polishing the forks, it’s the start of a path to enlightenment that will help you learn and grow and ultimately excel.

So the next time you’re given something basic to do, don’t feel bad or angry about it. Don’t complain about how you’re past this, or you deserve better, or your coach hates you.

Carmen sent Richie to the other restaurant not because he was mad at him, but because he saw something special in Richie that even Richie himself couldn’t see. And Carmen wanted to help Richie get out of his own way so he could fulfill that destiny.

Carmen was also smart enough to know Richie would never learn that lesson directly from him. He needed to hear it, and see it, and experience it through someone else.

So the next time you’re told to “polish the forks,” don’t see it as a punishment or a failure. See it for what it is – an opportunity to rise above where you are now and chase after greatness.

You just may surprise yourself.