Early Work
I've spent a lot of time in ballparks. I've seen a lot of wins, a lot of losses, and some pretty cool things along the way. My favorite time to be at the field isn't what you might expect, though. It's not for the National Anthem or flyover before the game, or the postgame fireworks display after a win. It's hours before the gates open, when the stadium is all but empty. No lights, no fans, no music. Just the still majesty of a Major League ballpark.
Still, that is, aside from that one player working, maybe with the assistance of a coach. Mind you, I'm not talking about 5 o'clock pre-game batting practice, when gates are opening and stadium workers are manning their posts. I'm talking about noon, in the dead of summer, with the game seven or eight hours away.
This is when the real work happens. When the professional who is dedicated enough to want to perfect his craft is diligently focused on doing just that. Hours from now, when batting practice starts for the rest of the team, isn't the time. Then it's about the team and the routine and keeping to the pre-game schedule. Right now is when he can dive deep on what he needs to improve on.
This is my favorite time to be at the park. Always has been. When I played, I loved being at the field without all of the other distractions and obligations of team practice. At practice you're part of a team. During early work you're a singular athlete. That was my best opportunity to really work on making myself better. Later, as a scout and executive, I would sneak into the corner of a stadium and watch players far more talented than me do the same.
It's like watching a brilliant musician rehearse or being in a comedy club when a headliner shows up unannounced to workshop some new material. You're not just watching greatness. You're watching the act of greatness becoming great.
There's something beyond just logging the extra hours of work that goes into this pursuit. By all means, log your 10,000 hours. But there's more to it than that. It's the stillness. The focus. The time to oneself to allow for reflection, experimentation, and deep thought. Before it counts for real.
Now take that same approach from the glamorous world of packed stadiums and HBO specials and bring it into the Ryan household. I've come to embrace rising early. Not because I particularly enjoy it or don't enjoy sleep (I do!), but because I like what it provides me: stillness. I'm not some single fitness influencer in his twenties. I don't have hours in the day to dedicate to self-care and mindfulness. I'm a working, married, father of three. The minute the entire family is up, it's double-barreled, all-hands-on-deck action. My day is over and our day has begun. So "my" day consists of the two hours or so I have before that. That's my opportunity to work on getting better.
Now there's no Ballpark Cam that will catch this early work to broadcast later to diehard fans, but I'm in pursuit of the same thing as the athlete out sweating in the midday sun: to be at my best when it counts.
This doesn't mean you need to wake up early to exercise or stay up late to journal in order to be at your best. But we all need time to focus on what matters to us, whatever that is. There are too many distractions, both optional and mandatory, to hope that we'll stumble upon some time each day for deep work. We have to prioritize it.
The world-class athlete, famous comedian, and successful neighborhood Father of the Year can all make it look easy. But trust me: they all put in the work. Maybe it's early, maybe it's late, but they're logging their hours in some way. And that's the irony: the people we admire because they make it look so easy are often the ones putting in the most effort when no one is watching.
I just hope I'm a little better today than I was yesterday.