My story
Back then…
It was the second week of December. The summer school holidays in Australia were getting into full swing. Cricket was the number one summer sport. And it was the number one activity for most 14-year-olds. Like me. We would watch our heroes on TV. And then we would try and create our own moments of magic. In our backyards. Which were nice and big back then.
Our house had the perfect backyard for cricket. A good sized rectangle of concrete in the middle. About half the size of a tennis court. With grass on either side. Where you could dive like your heroes did, trying to catch the ball before it bounced. Our friends Andre, Robbie and Vlado loved coming over to play in our backyard. With me and my younger brother Michael.
Keeping score
My love of numbers meant that we had someone to keep score. And I was a perfectionist, so I made sure that no scores were missed. It was all written down in my A5 notebook. At the end of the day I would re-calculate everyone’s averages and announce them as the daylight began to fade. Starting with the lowest average and finishing with the highest.
My brother
One night, I was half-way through announcing the averages for the day when my brother interrupted me.
“I don’t want to play anymore”.
“Why not?”, I asked.
“Because… I just don’t want to” he replied.
His score had been the first one read out over the last 3 days.
I finished reading out the averages. My score was the last one read out. It usually was. I took pride in being at the top of the list. I wanted to win. Numbers in sport were meant to show a winner and a loser. The highest average meant you were the best batsman (scorer) for the day.
What about the others?
What was wrong with telling that story? I was okay with it because my scores were always high.
But what about the others? How did they feel when I read out the averages for the day?
How was my brother feeling when his name was the first one read out?
I felt sad. Actually I felt devastated for my brother.
I lay awake in bed that night. I wanted our backyard cricket days to continue. But I also wanted my brother to be happy.
The next day there was no cricket.
I had collected a lot of scores over the holidays. As I flicked through my A5 notebook, I couldn’t stop thinking about my brother. I thought he had improved a fair bit over the holidays.
I started really looking at the numbers…
So I started to look for some trends.
My brother’s daily average had improved consistently since we started. His highest score was made just last week. His average this week was also higher than his average for last week.
All the numbers to tell that story were in my hands.
I needed to change the end of day routine. Announcing scores from lowest to highest was no longer an option.
A couple of days rest was all it took for my brother’s enthusiasm to return. And the sound of tennis balls hitting backyard fences returned to our neighbourhood.
What are the numbers really telling us?
At the first break in play, I took the opportunity to mention some upcoming milestones.
“Michael (my brother) needs another 15 runs to get to 600 runs for the holidays.”
“Andre’s next wicket will be his 20th for the holidays. And he has also taken the most catches.”
They both had an extra spring in their step. In fact, the mood of everyone was lifted. There was a level of excitement. An extra sense of urgency. Both milestones would be achieved in the next hour. Followed by high fives and cheering.
We all have our different stories around numbers
But the loudest cheers came when I got out for a score of 4. It was my lowest score for the holidays. And my brother and our friends knew this. But I wasn’t upset. I was actually quite happy. Because they had flicked through the pages of my notebook to find out my lowest score. They had chosen a milestone.
I realised that everyone has a different story when it comes to numbers. And the ability to see that story, the ability to tell that story, is more important than the numbers themselves.
So, at the end of the day’s play, I did not announce the scores from lowest to highest. Instead I asked each person what numbers would they find interesting for the next day’s play. And the conversations continued as the daylight began to fade.