Whenever I’m on the road, Yelp becomes my bible that guides me to delectable spots that I cannot get at home in New Jersey. Food is something that truly brings joy in my life, and accordingly, my Instagram algorithm reflects that—along with maybe a little baseball content, too. A few weeks ago, those two worlds of mine collided in one particular post.
A new restaurant had recently opened and the owner of the establishment was asked about his thought process behind the detail of the impressive interior décor that cost him over a million dollars before a single meal was served. His response got my mind going.
“The phones eat first,” he proudly proclaimed. What he was referring to was the societal tendency for people to whip out their cameras to “create content” for their social media feeds with their food before even tasting it. In taking this approach, his hope was to make his restaurant a pop culture destination with a serious return on that million-dollar investment.
He went on to talk about wanting people to take pictures of the custom knives that cost him thousands. He expected women to post about how nice the bathrooms were. The lighting and the surround sound and the color schemes were all designed with the specific intention of creating a vibe that would look and sound good on Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook. On the surface, all of this made perfect sense. And as someone who is incredibly detail-oriented himself, I can appreciate that kind of attention to every little thing.
But as I was watching this video and others like it on the restaurant’s feed, I found it odd that there was no mention of the food. Isn’t that the most important thing for a restaurant? If the food is great, does the décor really matter? If the food is awful, does the décor really matter? Was this restaurateur valuing the décor over the food? That got me thinking, naturally, about baseball.
In our sport, there has never been more information out there about how to best develop players. So much so that many are confused about what it actually means to be a great player.
Different times of the calendar year present different goals to achieve, all seemingly pointing towards performing better on the field, in games. The individual things you focus on in practice and training are meant to help you play better in games.
You want to spend the off-season building strength so you can hit for more power? Great. But how much power do you really have when you can put on a show for five o’clock batting practice but can’t make contact when the lights turn on at seven? You want to have hands like Francisco Lindor? Don’t we all? But when you are never in the right spot and always throwing the ball to the wrong base, what good was all that time and money spent working with your personal infield whisperer? If a pitcher can light up the radar gun but can’t throw the ball over the plate, he may win a stuffed animal on the boardwalk but will probably struggle to get batters out.
If you don’t understand the ability to play winning baseball, you are just like a chef getting the menu wrong.
Michael Jordan didn’t see Nike as his biggest endorsement—his game was. His dedication to becoming the best basketball player on the planet is what led to everything else that had nothing to do with basketball. If he averaged three points per game, he wouldn’t have signed anything with anybody. He prioritized his substance—the things that were truly important—over his style. And I would make the argument that his substance was his style. Jordan’s game did all of the talking, not his “MJ23” engraved knives.
As a coach, what is your substance? What are the most important things you are trying to accomplish? Players will recognize what their coaches emphasize, so with the new season right around the corner, it’s a coach’s job to make sure players know what matters most. Each and every day, they need to see and hear that from you, not Instagram, where the “phones eat” before everyone else.