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Greatness Starts with Polishing the Forks
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.
Failure Is a Key Element in Player Development

Today’s topic was a suggestion from Tim Husted, who was the founder and guiding force behind the Danes fastpitch softball program, which gave players in Wisconsin and Minnesota the opportunity to play at the highest levels. Tim knows a thing or two about developing players so they can continue their careers in college, having done so for many young ladies while the program was active.
Tim was commenting on my post “Accuracy Without Speed = Batting Practice,” saying essentially that too many parents and coaches these days are focused on achieving short-term success rather working toward longer-term greatness. But, he added, it also shows up in parents being afraid to let their kids fail because they don’t understand that failure is an essential component of developing great players.
I know, it sounds counter-intuitive doesn’t it? No parent likes to see their kid(s) fail.
Our hearts bleed for them, and our kids’ pain becomes our pain – only amplified. It can be particularly debilitating for parents who are living vicariously through their kids’ sports careers.
The result is we do whatever we can to help our kids avoid failure, and the negative feelings associated with it.
Sometimes that means an “everybody gets a trophy” approach. Which I personally believe is ok at the younger ages to reward participation, but not after about the age of 10, and then only in rec leagues.
Sometimes that means jumping from team to team to find a starting spot rather than competing for one. There are definitely times when leaving a particular team is the right decision, such as when all positions are set and there is no opportunity to compete for a starting job.
That happens more than people like to admit too. But leaving in lieu of working hard is not a good solution.
And sometimes it means disgruntled parents starting their own teams or agreeing to coach with the express purpose of making their kid the star, whether it’s deserved or not.
Here’s the reality, however: failure is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it’s pretty rare to find anyone who is successful as an adult who did not face some level of failure earlier in his or her life.
Amanda Scarborough often talks about how early in her career she was not at the top of the pitching depth chart on her travel and high school teams. One of the all-time greats, three-time Olympic Gold Medalist Lisa Fernandez, says she walked 20 batters in her first pitching outing and was told by a well-known pitching coach in California that she’d “never be a pitcher.” Many other greats in all walks of life have similar backstories.
The thing is, they didn’t let failure or disappointment define them. Instead, they learned from it and used it as fuel.
This is what coaches, and especially parents, need to understand. Failure isn’t a bad thing. It’s an essential part of the learning process.
People who succeed all the time (if there is such a thing) don’t learn how to overcome obstacles. They aren’t driven to hone their skills to improve. They don’t gain the mental toughness required to play at the highest level.
The pain of failure drives us to not want to feel that way again. Which either means we stop doing the activity or we work to ensure (to the best of our abilities) that it doesn’t happen again.
And that’s where the development comes in. Failure doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. It means you aren’t good enough right now.
But that can change. While your DNA, which defines your base athletic ability, is what it is, mental and physical skills can be developed.
As a team coach and an instructor I’ve worked with many, many kids who didn’t start out as superstars, or even competent players for that matter. But with guidance and dedication they went on to pass more naturally gifted players in terms of performance on the field. And I know many coaches, including Tim, who have similar stories.
Failure helps point out the flaws in your game so you can work on them. It drives us to achieve more than success alone ever will.
Good players like to work on their strengths. Great players prefer to work on their weaknesses.
Then there’s the idea of failure as fuel, which I mentioned earlier. Sometimes failing at something is just the kick in the pants we as humans need to drive us to improve beyond what we may have done otherwise.
I know this from personal experience. My first year as a travel ball coach my oldest daughter’s team was very successful, winning the bulk of our games along with taking first place in the highly competitive travel league we were a part of.
I remember feeling really good about myself as a coach – until I found out half the team was leaving to join a new team in our organization coached by the dad of a girl who was more popular than my daughter. I was shocked and disappointed.
But rather than quit, or whine about it, I took that failure and used it to drive me to become the best coach I could be. I took classes, read books, watched videos, talked to other coaches, and did everything I could to become so good that no player would ever even consider leaving.
While I can’t say I fully achieved that goal – there will always be some attrition, and there’s always more to learn – it definitely made me a much better coach and put me on the path that I still follow today. I’m not sure the same would have happened had that first team all stayed.
Another benefit failure brings is that it makes success that much sweeter and more satisfying. It’s difficult to appreciate triumph if you’ve never experienced defeat.
Not to mention if you are afraid of failure you’re more likely to play weaker competition to ensure you’ll win. I’ve known teams like that.
Their coaches play teams they know they can beat, thinking a better won-loss record makes them look like better coaches. But all it really does is stunt the development of their players because those players aren’t being challenged.
If you’re going undefeated in every tournament and posting up 80-3 run differentials you’re not a great team. You’re playing in the wrong tournaments.
A 60% – 70% win rate will do far more to ensure player development than a closet full of trophies, medals, plaques and rings.
The bottom line is that while failure is painful, it can be a good kind of pain – like what you feel after a particularly grueling workout. It’s not something that should be feared and avoided at all costs.
Instead, it should be embraced as part of the learning process.
Failure doesn’t have to be a dead end. In fact, it can be the starting point for something much, much better.
The choice is yours.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com








