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It's August 2nd, one day after Major League Baseball's annual Trade Deadline. Eighteen deals were made. Forty-nine players suddenly, in many cases without warning, changed their return address yesterday. One troubled young star wasn't told where he was going, only that he wouldn't be joining his fellows on the team's flight out of town.
It can get cold under the August sun.
The Trade Deadline is the day when thirty teams must decide if they'll be watching the postseason--less than two months out--from the dugout or from their couch. Thirty teams must determine if they're buying or selling talent. Thirty teams must decide: "What lies ahead: a strong winner or a long winter?"
For those teams that surrender to an inevitable losing season, there remains two months of meaningless games, diminishing crowds, and uncertain futures.
Some baseball insiders call it The Grind.
The Grind is certainly not represented in fleeting, resonant, peak experiences. A pitcher throws a game-ending third strike on the outside corner to fool the batter, who goes down, scarcely lifting his bat from his shoulder. Or, a batter hits a ground ball "with eyes" that skips through the infield to score the winning run from second base.
Neither, perhaps surprisingly, is The Grind reflected in brief valleys of adversity. A pitcher misses several starts due to a lower back injury. A batter is benched because his sense of timing at the plate is off, and "fat pitches" mockingly elude the exaggerated swing of his bat.
No, The Grind is playing 162 baseball games over the course of six months. The Grind is when your home games are in Los Angeles, but your home is in West Virginia. The Grind is August 2nd, and your team has traded their best players for future prospects--opting for a time of "rebuilding."
The Grind is the plateau that stretches endlessly between the peaks and the valleys.
The plateau is monotony. The plateau is a long walk in the same direction. On the plateau, no adversary threatens pursuit. No triumph is imminent. There's no adrenaline to lubricate the wheels of courage. The plateau is where we are joined on the journey by interior voices that question our ability and worth. The plateau is the space where only internal fortitude compels endurance, completion. Scripture might describe The Grind as the wilderness.
But, the plateau--and, again, not on the mountains or in the valleys--is where the character of men and women is defined and refined. One has said, "Strength of character is the ability to carry out the resolve, long after the emotion is gone."
Of course, when you're on the plateau, you can at least be grateful you haven't been traded to Cleveland.
Under what circumstances do you most feel you are on the plateau?
What intention might you now bring to the plateau that would encourage you to endure and overcome?
How might you find joy walking the plateau?
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