Habits.

 

Freddie Norman was a professional baseball player for more than 20 years. From 1961, when he first took his south paw to the mound for the Shreveport Sports in the Southern Association, to 1980 when he hung up his spikes after playing for the Montreal Expos in the majors.

During all that time, Norman was probably never anyone's favorite player.

He never won an award. 

He never made an all-star team.

They never carried him off the field shoulder high--like Housman's athlete dying young. They never doused him with crappy supermarket champagne. 

Even if you're of my vintage (that is, old) and a baseball fan, you've probably never heard of him.

Yet, Freddie Norman, is someone who's helped guide my career. He's done more to shine a light on running my own business than a thousand Simon Sineks and a million bits of fortune-cookie pablum from Seth Godin.

Yes, Freddie Norman is one of my work heroes.

As a sole proprietor, I have a very low threshold of worry. If I am working on three clients at a time, I worry that I'm not working on four. If I'm working on four, I worry that I'm not working on five. 

If I am 39 ads into completing one of my famous and popular Nifty Fifty's, I worry what comes next. 

I worry both macro-and-micro-economically. Macro, that trumpism will destroy everything and there will be no more business anywhere. Why bother if you make money only to have the bloated plutocrats thieve it. Micro, I worry that the George show has grown tired and there will be no more business.

My soul has grown deep with worry.

But Freddie Norman shows me the way.

Yes, Freddie Norman, who lifetime won 104 games and lost 103. That is, over 16 big league seasons won exactly one game more than he lost.

But Freddie Norman did something more vital than racking up Koufaxian numbers. Something that made his managers and team-mates love him even if the fans didn't.

He showed up. 

He endured. 

When you gave him the ball, he gave you back innings, if not winnings.

He might not have been the great leap forward, but he didn't lose you ground.

The last two weeks for me have been like Freddie's 1978 and 1979 seasons. Over those two years, his combined record was exactly 22 wins and 22 losses.

But most importantly, he pitched 372 innings over those years. That's a lot of time taken care of--a lot of time holding your own.

My last two weeks have not been halcyon. After a giant finish of 2024, I had a great opening six weeks of 2025, but the last two, my cylinders were skipping a beat.

But I Freddie Norman'd. I went out there. I raised my hand. I did little "pick-up jobs" here and there for long-term clients. I pro-bono'd and manifesto'd with a vengeance. 

Not big money. But big meaning.

When I'm worried, and no jobs are beating down my door, I make like Freddie Norman. I don't slink to the end of the bench and hide.

I let the world know I'm ready to take the ball. Ready to throw a strong seven innings. Ready to hang tough.

I do my work. 

I write my blog.
I call my friends.
I kibbitz.
I pro-bono.

I pitch in and help those who need it.

That's how I give my innings day in and day out, like Freddie Norman.

When the one great Score-keeper comes to pen my advertising name, he won't have me in the pantheon of superstars.

He'll have me two notches down, or three. 

As someone who works every day.

And every day makes things a little better than the day before.

Stee-eee-rike!