Honestly it's honesty

It's come to my attention that a person can hate the job they have but not hate what the job is. The management of a place can suck to high hell but a person can still get an undefinable joy from the work and victories achieved.
I played baseball for upwards to 16 years of my life. I played a specific role on a team that was pertinant to my stature, speed, skill, knowledge etc. My team mates likewise had their respective roles. We depended and could rely on eachother without speaking or looking at one another for what needed to be done. We anticipated eachothers moves and were successful in many battles on the diamond against very worthy opponents. At the end of the game you always reflect briefly on the awesomeness that came from that game and then you celebrate. (Celebration rituals is a story for another day). There was always a dialogue of "ahhh man that one diving catch you made!" or "ahhh shit that bomb you hit!" and equally there was the "yeah you did fuck up on that ground ball but its all good we'll get it next time". We were a team.
I stopped playing baseball some time ago. I still pick up a ball and glove here and there but not like I used to. In a sense a hung up the gloves and traded it in for a knife. Yes a knife. I began cooking. And I quickly realized that the kitchen is dangerously similar to the dugout. The Chef is of course the coach. You have your GM's. The one and two hole hitters will be the runners and servers. Then you have your three hole hitter, your sautee cook, who you can count on for a base hit or a bottle of whisky. Your clean up hitter is your grill man who can be counted on to pummel a 200 cover night. 5, 6, and 7 are your pantry and prep cooks. They know the small game tactics of moving around quickly and being unnoticed but super productive. You forgot to prep something on your station? Send in the 7 hole hitter, he'll have it done in 20 seconds flat and hidden away so as not too upset coach.
No line is perfect. The kitchen will inevitably have its days when it damn near crashes. But the pressure in the bottom of the 9th is the adrenaline we thrive on. Yeah you might piss off the umpires and fans a little bit by looking like your not gonna produce but it's in these moments when the kitchen comes together to clean up a service and bring one home for the fans. When it's all said and done you look at your teammates with a look of "I don't know how the fuck we pulled that off but good job man" and you go out for the celebration after.
I like how the restaurant industry can confuse me into thinking I never quit playin ball.
One day I'd like to be a coach.