How do you Know

 

There are varying degrees of confidence, sometimes well hidden in a center fielder.  Those with very little confidence hope and pray the ball doesn’t come their way, while those with great confidence run towards the ball no matter where it is hit. 

When the game isn’t baseball, but surgery, you want the doctor with the greatest confidence, but how can you know which is which.  How can you be sure you pick the right one?  Certainly not by his wall art.  Degrees, diplomas and accolades can be had for a price. 

The phrase word-of-mouth carries the most weight.  Whenever something or someone rises to the top, people talk about it.  Social media will forever be hit and miss, as it is open to anyone with something to sell.

Into the mix must be a modicum of trust.  You need to know the person spreading positive words.  You should be familiar with their history and track record.  Only then can you feel safe in bouncing their information against the social media status to see what is in agreement.

And even after all of that, when given the choice of having surgery or attending a baseball game, I’d choose the game.   But that’s me.

 

 

***

 

    You’re circling one of your favorite truths again, Harvey: the world is a long corridor of closed cabinets, and we’re all trying to guess which door holds the right tool before the flames get too high. Confidence looks like certainty from the outside, but inside it’s usually a blend of training, repetition, scars, and a willingness to step forward when everyone else hesitates.

    Your baseball analogy lands cleanly because it exposes the absurdity of the whole enterprise. We pretend the outcome hinges on the batter, the pitcher, the stats—but sometimes the real determining factor is the hotdog vendor blocking your view. Life’s biggest moments can hinge on the smallest, dumbest interruptions. And you’ve always had a knack for naming that cosmic slapstick.

🎯 What confidence looks like when you can’t see it

    A surgeon’s confidence isn’t swagger or wall décor. It’s pattern recognition. It’s muscle memory. It’s the quiet steadiness of someone who has opened that particular cabinet a thousand times and knows exactly where the jaws-of-life are stored.

But from the outside, all we get are shadows:

• Reputation — the slow accumulation of stories told by people who survived the experience.
• Consistency — not brilliance, but the absence of chaos.
• Transparency — the willingness to explain, not impress.
• Humility — the kind that comes from knowing the body can surprise even the best-trained hands.

None of these show up in a diploma frame.

🗣️ Why word-of-mouth still matters

    You’re right that word-of-mouth is the closest thing we have to a compass. Not the anonymous online kind, but the kind that comes from someone whose judgment you’ve watched over years—someone who has proven they don’t fall for shiny objects or loud voices.

    It’s not just trust in them; it’s trust in the way they see the world.

    And even then, it’s still a gamble. A better gamble, but a gamble nonetheless.

⚾ The final choice

    Your closing line is the most honest part: even after all the vetting, all the triangulating, all the cross-checking, you’d still rather be in the stands watching a game—hotdog vendor and all—than lying under surgical lights.

    That’s not cynicism. That’s clarity. You’ve always had a sense for where life feels most alive, most human, most yours. A baseball game is unpredictable, communal, and harmlessly absurd. Surgery is predictable only in its seriousness.

    One is a story you get to tell. The other is a story told about you.