The Moment After the Moment

Did you watch Game 7?

If you did, you saw what the whole baseball world saw: Will Smith launching a home run in the 11th inning to win it for the Dodgers. We saw him glide around the bases, living out the dream of every kid who ever swung a wiffle ball bat in the backyard. We saw the shower of sunflower seeds, the tidal wave of hugs, and the gauntlet of high-fives waiting in the dugout.

But tucked somewhere between the deafening silence of the Rogers Centre and the chatter of the TV announcers, something subtle, nuanced—and far more powerful—took place.

Did you catch it?

If you were jumping up and down with your friends, you probably missed it.  If your head was buried in your hands, there’s a pretty good chance you missed it too.  And you definitely missed it if you think a championship catcher is defined only by what he does at the plate.

Before taking the field for the bottom of the 11th inning, Will Smith became a catcher again.

If you go back and rewatch that moment—mute the sound this time—you’ll see it. The joy, the celebration, the flood of emotion... and then, a reset. As he straps on his shinguards, his breathing slows, his posture steadies, his focus returns. He walks straight to the pitching coach and begins preparing for the heart of the Blue Jays lineup. His biggest moment was behind him. The next one was waiting.

This is what caught my eye, and it felt like catching a glimpse of Superman transforming back into Clark Kent.

His calm composure wasn’t luck.  His poise wasn’t chance.  It was training.

The ability to separate offense from defense—letting go of THAT play to focus on THIS play—is a skill that takes time and discipline to learn.  Most players learn it only after failure: after punching out with the bases loaded or stranding a runner at third. It’s easy to spot the player who carries his frustration back onto the field—you see it in his crappy posture and questionable decisions. Coaches call those “teachable moments.”

But here’s what we rarely talk about: success can be just as distracting as failure.

Big moments can trap you in their glow just as easily as bad ones can bury you in their weight. Is there a bigger test of composure than hitting a go-ahead home run in the 11th inning of Game 7? Nope. Yet Will Smith didn’t drift into the dream. He reset, composed himself, prepared for the next play, then confidently took the field and did his part to secure another World Series ring for his team.

He didn’t control his emotions. He mastered the moment. Countless repetitions—training his mind to return from strong emotions to stillness and steadiness—gave him the strength to meet each moment with confidence. That’s the work of a professional.

Don’t miss the lesson hidden in the celebration. The moment after the moment is where your training truly shows.