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On June 2, 2010, with one very bad call, umpire Jim Joyce snatched a no-hitter from Detroit pitcher Armando Galarraga.
Perhaps the only thing more remarkable than an umpire robbing Galarraga of a perfect game (27 batters, 27 outs, a very rare feat) is the pitcher's gracious attitude over the whole heartbreaking moment. "We're human, we make mistakes," Galarraga told CNN. "In that moment, I was so happy about a really good game. For some reason, I don't get (angry)."
"Didn't you want to argue the call?" he was asked.
"He probably felt more bad than me," Galarraga said, telling reporters that Joyce apologized to him after the game, adding that he had no instinct to argue the call. Smiling, he told them, "Nobody's perfect."
And how did umpire Joyce handle it (after being vilified by the media and baseball fans)? Truth is, Joyce's skills failed him. But his character did not. He publicly apologized, met with Galarraga in the locker room, expressed his regret and embraced the tall pitcher. "I just cost that kid a perfect game," Joyce said. "I thought he beat the throw. I was convinced he beat the throw, until I saw the replay... It was the biggest call of my career."
He becomes a role model by demonstrating the courage to be wrong.
Here's the deal: When our skills fail us, it is no tragedy.
When our character fails us, it is tragic indeed.
The next day, it was Galarraga who brought the Tigers' lineup card out to an emotional Joyce, who was umpiring at home plate. "He (Joyce) was crying when I came up," Galarraga said later. "I shook his hand. He patted me. We've already changed the page." Yes, it was a tangible demonstration of mercy, and an important step in the healing process.
This isn't a skill we learn. It spills from what is inside.
In this culture, we're big on stories about "success." What we need are more stories like this, about the intersection of imperfection, contrition, and mercy.
Of course I wish life were fair.
Or, in the words of my buddy Calvin (from Calvin and Hobbs), "I know the world isn't fair, but why isn't it ever unfair in my favor?"
I liked Galarraga's comment about how he will recall the game to his young son one day, "I believe in my heart I had the perfect game," he said.
And when it's not perfect, we want to yell at someone, or at the very least sue them. In the "too good to be true" category, in 1991 a man sued Anheuser-Busch for false and misleading advertising. The complaint specifically referenced ads involving fantasies of beautiful women in tropical settings that came to life for two men driving a Bud Light truck. Mr. Overton claims he suffered emotional distress, mental injury, and financial loss due to the misleading ads. No, I didn't make it up...
Here's what I know. Change happens when we quit clamoring for perfection from imperfect people. Including our selves. Yes. Many of us have an inner judge or critic--never satisfied--and all too fervently eager to remind us that "screw-up" is our middle name. We go one step further when our need for perfection and control erases anything good that happened before (or after) the error of our way. As if whoever we are, and whatever we do is never enough.
Giving up perfection allows us the freedom to utter three powerful words, "I was wrong." Pitcher Galarraga told the press that umpire Joyce had a lot of courage to: "come in and say: I'm sorry, I am so sorry, I made a mistake." In a day and age when 36 qualifiers and excuses amend "I'm sorry" or "I was wrong", Jim Joyce's apology is refreshing. It is short and genuine. He owns the issue. He walks the talk.
Yes, Galarraga could have gone ballistic, when Joyce missed the call.
He could have petitioned Major League Baseball to reverse the call.
But he didn't.
In fact, after the botched call he went back to the mound and got the next guy out.
Our culture is not used to this.
Which is why mercy and grace are so powerful.
And, more than ever, why they are so necessary.
If it ain't in you, it can't come out of your horn.
Charlie Parker
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