Published in the San Diego Union-Tribune, January 20, 2025
by Neil Senturia
Sometimes working through a problem by talking to yourself is a good way to find a solution or teach yourself something.
I am going to try a magic trick. This column is going to try to meld four things — Rickey Henderson, a barista, my trainer and Adelaide Bry (mother of my wife). Pick a card, any card.
Henderson died a month ago, and the tributes have been exhausting. The headlines have called him the “Man of Steal” and “Hail to the Thief.” He holds multiple records in various categories. I won’t list them all; try ChatGPT if you are interested.
There is one particular aspect of Henderson that fascinates me. As New York Times reporter Michael Rosenwald noted in Henderson’s obituary last month, Henderson often referred to himself in the third person, not using the word “I” but rather “Rickey,” as in “Rickey don’t like it when Rickey can’t find Rickey’s limo.”
Rosenwald describes the time Oakland catcher Terry Steinfeld finds Rickey in the locker room stark naked, mumbling, “Rickey’s gonna have a game” — five minutes before the game is about to begin.
The anthem is playing, and he is still talking to himself, “Rickey’s gonna have a good day.” The anthem ends, he puts on his uniform, “Rickey’s ready to go,” he walks down the tunnel, gets his bat (he is the lead-off) and hits a home run.
Genius, maybe. The list of people who talk to themselves or refer to themselves in the third person from time to time is legion. Muhammad Ali, Bill Gates, Douglas MacArthur, Warren Buffett, Albert Einstein, Leonardo da Vinci, Ray Dalio. You get my point.
Henderson was one of many who practice the “explanation effect.” That is psych speak for working through a problem by talking to yourself. It is a way of teaching something to yourself. Seneca, the Roman philosopher, said, “While we teach, we learn.”
My son comes for the holidays and gets on a rip about quitting his C-level job and becoming a barista. He thinks he would be great at it because he says he is good at “banter.” He is dismayed that he goes to the same coffee shop and orders the same thing, and the barista does not engage in casual conversation, doesn’t remember anything about him, or even shows interest in him. Her mantra is just “stay in your space,” and I will pour the coffee.
My son is transactional. If the barista bantered, he would tip more often. But the subtext here is a bit darker. It seems in our society, random reach-out, human observations seem to be diminishing. In fact, they are considered by some to be scary. “You talkin’ to me?” Talking to strangers is considered by some as if you are invading their space.
We pay lip service to the idea of community, but it is “our” community. We know who we know, and we don’t know you, so move on.
My trainer, Steve Booth. Like my son, he is struck by the fact that many people do not engage.
He is a schoolteacher, and what he sees is that his students, age 13 to16, are reluctant to introduce themselves to new people or older adults.
He says he was taught that meeting a new person was an obligation, a sign of respect, offer a handshake. I call it lessons in early networking.
Finally, Adelaide Bry, who wrote a half-dozen books, one of the most famous being, “Directing the Movies of Your Mind.” The premise is simple, “What you can visualize, you can have.” Bry discusses the power of imagination, subconscious images, actualizing dreams. She calls it “The Mental Home Movie” method, where you get to be the star. (You do not need an agent).
I will confess that I talk to myself. I do not use the third person. My “conversations” are with myself as if I were listening to another me. It is a way to puzzle through complexity outloud, as if you were teaching in a classroom. Truth is, this other guy is a lot smarter than me.
I understand Henderson and appreciate that this third-person reality exists in “performers” in all fields. Rituals before you go on stage. And all entrepreneurs, at some level, are actors.
Be open to meeting yourself, wherever. Develop trust and self-confidence, enough to be small, weak and unsure, without fear of loss of control. Learn your lines — then go out and crush it.
Rule No. 836: Slide (but not head first).