The Mistake That Ended a North Country Baseball Game—and What It Means for Business

The ninth inning was rough.

A friend of mine was sharing about her son’s recent baseball game. He’s fourteen, and already pitching in the kinds of high-stakes moments most kids would rather watch from the bench. That night, he was brought in during the final inning of a close game, tasked with holding the other team at bay. At that age, you’re still learning how to stay steady under pressure, how to trust your instincts without letting them override the rules.

What happened next was hard to watch, even secondhand.

During that final inning, her son committed not one, but two balks. In baseball, a balk is when the pitcher makes an illegal move that deceives the baserunners, whether intentionally or not. The penalty is that all runners advance one base. It’s meant to keep the game fair and to prevent the pitcher from tricking players into staying put or hesitating when they shouldn’t. A balk can be called for things like faking a throw to first while still on the mound, not coming to a full stop before delivering a pitch, or executing a pickoff move that doesn’t meet the standards of legality. These are not obscure rules in the world of baseball, but they are the kind of rules that don’t sink in for young players until they experience the consequences firsthand.

In his case, both balks came from his efforts to watch a runner who seemed ready to steal second. He was alert, responsive, doing what felt natural—trying to keep the runner in check while committing to the pitch. Unfortunately, in doing so, he triggered the penalty. The first time, the runner advanced. The second time, it brought in the go-ahead run. There wasn’t time for the team to bounce back after that. The game was over.

And just like that, the weight of the loss settled squarely on his shoulders.

His dad did something beautiful in the aftermath. He didn’t try to fix it or minimize it. He sat with his son in the discomfort of it all. He acknowledged how heavy it felt. He gave him space to process what had happened, while gently reminding him that one player never truly loses a game on their own.

That moment has stayed with me—not just because it was a powerful example of parenting, but because of how familiar it felt in other areas of life and business.

We have a tendency, as humans, to zero in on the last visible mistake. We look at what happened at the very end—the thing we can name, point to, and replay in our minds—and we decide that must be the reason everything fell apart. And at this moment, we lose sight of everything that came before.

But what about the first eight innings?

Were they flawless? Of course not. Did every player do their job perfectly? I doubt it.

Baseball is a long game filled with tiny decisions, shifting momentum, and imperfect execution. Yet when emotions run high, when disappointment or embarrassment creeps in, we latch onto the most recent or most obvious error and assign it all the meaning.

I’ve seen this same pattern show up in business more times than I can count.

Maybe a client is frustrated because a project timeline wasn’t met. The temptation is to look at the final delay, the last unanswered message, the piece that fell through just before the finish line. But if we step back and look at the entire project arc, we often find that the seeds of the delay were planted much earlier. Maybe there were unclear expectations from the start, missed deadlines for deliverables on the client’s end, or scope creep that changed the nature of the work halfway through. The last moment might have been the tipping point, but it wasn’t the whole story.

I’ve also seen it in personal relationships. One partner is irritated because the other wasn’t ready to leave on time, and all the frustration gets aimed at those last few minutes spent getting ready. But maybe the issue began long before—when the invitation was communicated too late, or the schedule wasn’t made clear in the first place. The visible behavior becomes the target, but the real breakdown was in communication and planning, not punctuality.

I’m not saying the final moments don’t matter. They do. But when we focus exclusively on what happens at the end, we miss the broader context. We ignore the complexity. And we risk misplacing responsibility in a way that isn’t just unfair—it’s unproductive.

At Clear View Advantage, part of my role is to look at the whole picture. Whether I’m helping a North Country business owner clean up their online presence, sort through operations that feel messy, or figure out why a system keeps breaking down, I start by asking how we got here. Not just what’s happening right now, but what’s been happening all along. That’s where the real clarity comes from. That’s where growth can actually begin.

So the next time something doesn’t go as planned, whether it’s in your work or your personal life, I encourage you to pause before drawing conclusions. Take a breath. Zoom out. Ask yourself if you’re reacting to the ninth inning or if you’re willing to look at the full game.

That kind of perspective isn’t always easy to hold, especially when emotions are high. But it’s the kind of perspective that makes us stronger leaders, steadier collaborators, and more compassionate people.

There’s always more to the story than what happened at the end.

Let’s remember to look for it.

-Amanda