Today, a fantasy baseball league I am in held their winter meetings. This was a two and a half hour discussion with people in four time zones and two hemispheres. We figured out the rules and guidelines of our upcoming season. No drafting was done, no trades were made — this was merely discussing the minutiae of mechanics for a league where no one makes any money.
One of the later points of discussion (under the “Enduring Freedoms” category) was opening the idea to holding mainly-sardonic elections for a league hall of fame, honoring the famous baseball players who most amuse us. A few options were thrown out for when we would hold these elections: beginning of the season, during the playoffs, after the championship is decided. (You can see why the meetings lasted so long.) During the chatter, I tossed out, “Why not during the all-star break?” No one has any players to pay attention to, and even if you wanted to watch major league baseball games, you only get one in three days. Plenty of time for frivolous balloting. Everyone agreed that this was a good idea, and we moved on.
Later, when the minutes of the meeting were posted (we have an official league secretary who handles writing up the minutes of all meetings), I flipped through to review the proceedings. In doing so, I noted that, due to a clearly understandable and unsurprising error, one of my fellow L.A.-based video chatters received credit for the all-star break idea. I have spent the past hour having to remind myself that this is not a big deal and that there’s no way to subtly or jokingly point out that it should be corrected without having it come across as passive-aggressive and petty. As soon as I convince myself of this, I only have five or so minutes until the desire to grab credit, demand it, rises up again.
I am writing this to confess how small my thoughts can be. To display the weakness of my spirit for you all to see. And, also, to let you know I deserve credit for this marginal suggestion, something that can barely be called an idea.
This is what I’ve become. Maybe this is what I’ve always been.