Latest news with #criticism
New York Times
13 hours ago
- Sport
- New York Times
Want to handle criticism better? A former MLB umpire shares advice — and untold stories
Editor's Note: This story is a part of Peak, The Athletic's desk covering leadership, personal development and success through the lens of sports. Follow Peak here. Dale Scott was an MLB umpire for more than 30 years. He was behind the plate for Game 3 of the 2001 World Series, when President George W. Bush threw out the first pitch, and was at first base during the Jeffrey Maier Game at Yankee Stadium in 1996. Advertisement He was yelled at by Paul O'Neil and Billy Martin, ejected Terry Collins and Terry Francona, and had glass bottles thrown his way at Fenway Park. Which makes him an ideal person for this question: How do we deal with criticism? Everyone deals with some form of criticism in their lives; if I write a story, readers can have their say in the comments. Umpires, officials and referees deal with it constantly, in extreme ways, right in front of our eyes. The job requires a level of thick skin. Need a reminder? Consider NBA referee Scott Foster, who came under harsh scrutiny during the NBA Finals. So I called up Dale Scott to ask for his best advice for developing that thick skin. I didn't want to talk about the current debates on officiating, like automated balls and strikes or the quality of officiating in the NBA or NFL. Those are for another story. I was just curious: What does it feel like to take that level of criticism from players, managers and coaches, and what's the best way to handle it? We know everyone faces some level of criticism at work. Umpires and officials get it every day. Whether it felt valid or not, how did it affect you mentally? I remember in the minor leagues, when I was in Double-A, I had an ejection off a called strike three. The hitter called me a few names. He was very calm, but he told me a lot of things that are physically impossible, and I ejected him. Well, the next day in the Jackson, Miss., newspaper, he was quoted as saying, 'I didn't say anything, I just said, wasn't that pitch outside, and he ejected me.' And I said, 'That's not even close to what happened.' I was very frustrated because I thought that everybody is gonna believe that. But I also learned a couple of things. One, you're never going to beat the power of the pen or the microphone, and you're just giving it more shelf life if you continue. And two, I don't really need to read the local papers, because I know what happened, and I can avoid all this criticism that wasn't warranted or stories about an ejection that isn't true, and it's getting me all worked up. Advertisement The thing I learned about umpiring — and this is something that transcends social media or any of that stuff — I learned early on that people are criticizing a uniform. They don't know Dale Scott. They'll be cheering me two plays later when I call another person safe instead of out. And I just realized, as an official, not to take it personally. Matt Kemp ripped you after a playoff game in 2014. Looking back, what did you think of his view of your performance? And when your name appears in a story after a big playoff moment like that, what happens next? That's a great example. I saw, in a story about the game, some of the comments. And then some friends brought it to my attention. It didn't upset me; it angered me. Because it was just such cheap shots where there's no rebuttal. It's just out there. And, of course, he was traded that winter and he went to San Diego. And I remember all through the winter, I'm thinking: I'm gonna see him in spring training and I'm gonna talk to him. And it's exactly what I did. The first time I had the Padres, I'm walking on the field, and there's Kemp. And we made eye contact at the same time and he comes over to me and he goes: ''Hey, I'm sorry about some of the stuff I said last year.' And I said: 'I appreciate that. But you know, those are really cheap shots that are indefensible' — I think I called them 'chicken s—' — 'and it's not a lot of fun to read that and have no rebuttal. Whether you like it or not, we are in this together. We may disagree. But we're on the field together and we need to get along the best we can.' I don't hold grudges. But I told him, 'If you've got an issue or a real problem, you can come to me. Because we're gonna see each other a million times.' I was thinking about how you guys have to simultaneously ignore some level of criticism and give players and managers some grace. But you also have to remain self-aware enough to know when you might have made a mistake. Is that a difficult balance? When I thought I might have missed a call — and this was pre-replay time — I would have a tendency to let the players or managers a little more slack on their argument. However, there are automatics where it doesn't matter whether you're right or wrong. And they know what they are. There are certain things where they know they're gonna get ejected. Advertisement But sometimes, even if I thought I got it right, you have to understand that it's a huge call in this game, and people are competitive. You understand the venom that's coming from them. You have to decipher and let them go so far. The other thing as an umpire: If a 2-2 pitch comes in, and I 'ball' it and I think, Gosh, dangit, that's a pretty good pitch, I don't have time to dwell on it. I clock it and then: Focus, focus, focus, get ready for the next one. It's very much a mental game. You can be very aware that there's a possibility you missed it, or that you did miss it, but you also are very aware that you have a bunch more coming and now's not the time to get down on yourself or re-live a play. Ballplayers always use the term 'flush it.' You flush the failure and move on. Did you have a way you thought about it or a tool to move on quickly? When I had a play or a pitch that was questionable, one of the first things I'd do after the game was go into the locker room and look at it. And if I missed it, it becomes: Why did I miss it? Was I too close? Was I too far? Was I moving on the play? Was it the angle? And then you move on. I had the 2001 World Series. My game behind the plate was Game 3, the game George W. Bush threw out the first pitch. It was (Roger) Clemens against (Brian) Anderson for the Diamondbacks. I had a play in the fourth inning, two outs, runner at second. It was a windy, brisk night. It was a pop-up in front of the plate, the catcher for Arizona, he's trying to catch it in front of home plate, and it goes right by his glove, and the question was: Did it nick his glove or not? It lands about three feet fair, but the spin on the ball, it spins and goes across the foul line before it's picked up, and that's a foul ball. What made it look so weird, it was so far fair when it hit the ground. So the Yankees think they just scored, and I'm calling it a foul ball. And even Mark Grace, the first baseman, was looking at me like: 'Oh my God, have you lost your mind? Why is that foul?' But the ball didn't touch his glove. Advertisement The reason I tell you that: Between innings, I'm thinking: I hope to God Fox has a camera that shows it not hitting his glove. So if it's an angle where you can't tell, now people are going to say: 'Well, it hit his glove. That should have been fair.' I was really confident. But I knew it was really close. It feels like that constant worry about messing things up would be exhausting in some ways. Journalists always talk about waking up in the middle of the night worried they got something wrong. I've walked off the field sometimes when both dugouts are on fire and people's heads are exploding, like Game 5 in Toronto with the bat flip and the whole s— house we had up there. I know that I can look in the mirror and say: 'You did a pretty good job today. Even though there was turmoil everywhere.' And there are other times where I've walked off and nobody has said a word, and I looked in the mirror and said, 'That wasn't a very good game. You're better than that. You missed a pitch.' But in the course of the game, it wasn't a big deal. Everybody has to deal with it their own way. Did you have any tools or methods for developing thick skin? Is there a secret? It didn't happen overnight. I learned, first in the minor leagues and then in my first few years in the big leagues. There are a lot of cliches, but they're so true. I learned that it's a marathon, not a sprint. Here's another situation that taught me something. I was in the Kingdome one day, and I had a play at third base that went against Seattle. I called the runner out. I got into a little bit of an argument with the manager. But there's that delay as they see it on the monitors in the Kingdome, and then you hear: 'BOOOOO!!!!' So, I'm thinking: Oh, s—, I missed that. Because they just saw the replay, and they just booed. The whole rest of the game, it's in the back of my mind: Man, I missed that play at third. I get into the locker room after the game and watched it. You couldn't tell whether he was out or safe with the angles that they had. Advertisement A light bulb goes on: You can't always trust what the fans are saying. Were some comments more cutting than others? Did some hurt more? Derek Jeter was never ejected in his career. Which is pretty phenomenal because he played a lot of games — and a lot of big games. One time in New York, I called him out on strikes. And he doesn't say much. He's not a guy who b—— and moans all the time. He just kind of dropped his shoulders and started to walk to the dugout and he goes, 'Dale, that pitch is outside.' I said, 'Derek, I got it on the plate.' He goes, 'I think it's out.' Very calm. And I'm thinking: Here's a guy that doesn't bitch on every pitch. He wasn't Paul O'Neil. So I start thinking: Maybe I did miss that pitch. And I looked at the pitch after the game. He was right. It was off the plate. The next day, as he runs out in the top of the first, I go, 'Hey, Derek. I took a look. That was a legit gripe.' He goes, 'Hey, don't worry about it. I appreciate you looking and I appreciate you telling me.' There are other guys. I mentioned Paul O'Neil. If he didn't swing, it's a ball. I didn't know that. I didn't get the memo. But if he didn't swing, it's a ball. When they start questioning pitches, you almost don't give them much attention. There are so many factors that play into it. It's so mental. You just try to block out the noise, block out what's not important, deal with what you have to deal with in front of you, and if it gets to a point where you have to deal with a player or manager, then you deal with it. There's that classic video of Tom Hallion (long-time umpire) and Terry Collins (the Mets' manager at the time). The 'Ass in the Jackpot.' I think that's such an interesting video. Not just because it's funny. But it's incredible emotional intelligence from Hallion. He de-escalates the situation, lets Collins vent and still holds his ground. There are times when managers are just venting. And it may not even be about you. They're venting about a call your partner has made. Or a situation that they just don't like. It's a very intricate dance. I tell people at camps and clinics, 'It's easy to eject people. What's tough is taking a player or manager who is really pissed off and frustrated and keeping them in the game without losing your authority.' Advertisement I had Terry Collins in a game in Atlanta one time. I was at third base. We reversed a call, and Terry comes out and he's really frustrated. I know he's venting. But you get to the point where you've had your say. We all know what's going on. And one of the things I told him: 'I was wrong. We got together and got it right. We'd do the same thing for you.' Finally, at one point, I just said, 'Terry, do you want to get run or not?' And he goes, 'I don't give a s—. Is that what's supposed to happen?' I said, 'You tell me.' And he said, 'Yeah, you better.' And I said, 'OK.' Yeah, he's frustrated. But he knows: 'I need to get ejected on this. I need to throw a little tantrum.' And as an umpire, you have to understand their job. You have to understand there are times they're gonna throw you under the bus to fire up their team, and that's fine, as long as it's done professionally. What was the best piece of advice you got on how to develop thick skin? (Former American League umpire) Marty Springstead was such a mentor. One of the things he used to tell me is, 'Don't be a roller coaster. The season is a marathon. There are highs and lows. Just try to stay as even as possible. It's never as good as you think it is. And it's never as bad as you think it is.' The thing you can get trapped into when you're a young umpire is you go out and you slay a plate job in a big game and think, 'Wow, you're on top of the world.' Well, the very next day, you'll have a checked swing, or a catch/no catch, or a pole-bender at third base that decides the game, and you're right back in the basement. If you have a big s— house with a manager and a lot of negative press, don't get too low. It's never as bad as you think it is. And conversely, if everything is going really well, don't get too cocky and think you got the world by the balls because, quite frankly, you don't. Advertisement And it pertains to dealing with situations, dealing with the aftermath and dealing with the personal feelings you may have and putting it all in a bucket where you don't get too overjoyed or down in the dumps. Because you've got a bunch of calls during a season. And you're only as good as your last call. (Illustration: Dan Goldfarb / The Athletic; Otto Greule / Getty Images)
The Guardian
17 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Bring the House Down by Charlotte Runcie review – the joy of the hatchet job
When Jesus is pressed to condemn the woman taken in adultery, he says, 'He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.' No one does, and a lesson in critical generosity is learned. Judge not, that ye be not judged. Is giving an artist a one-star review an act of abuse – casting the first stone? Is it worse when the reviewer is male and the artist female? That's the starting point of this entertaining and very timely debut novel from Charlotte Runcie, an arts journalist who, as a young intern, was lambasted on stage by a successful standup to whom she'd given a bad review. Alex Lyons, chief theatre critic for a national newspaper, is known for his hatchet jobs. It's the Edinburgh fringe, and he's sitting through a one-woman standup show. 'The solo performance artist, Hayley Sinclair, had a lot to say about the climate emergency, the patriarchy, and the looming end of the world, which was fair enough, but unfortunately her show was so terrible that, by half an hour in, Alex had decided that he actually wanted the world to end as soon as possible.' Instead, immediately after bashing out his one-star review, he goes to a bar, encounters an emotionally exhausted post-show Hayley, and invites her back to the flat he is sharing with another journalist, Sophie Ridgen. It is only the next morning that Hayley, after spending the night with Alex, reads the eviscerating, career-ending words he has written about her: 'a dull, hectoring frump, like one of those 1950s cartoons of housewives beating their husbands with a rolling pin'. Alex blithely walks in from his morning shower to find Hayley with his brickbat in her hands. It is a delightfully excruciating scene, setting in motion one of the most enjoyable novels I've read in a long time. Although as a male reviewer of a female artist, for a national newspaper, who by chance read much of the book on the train south from Edinburgh, I experienced moments of very meta-terror and mischief. Wouldn't the most fun review to write, but even more to read, be an absolute slating? Wasn't I, too, being tempted to cast the first stone? Luckily, Runcie's verbal wit, narrative chops and emotional subtlety rendered that impossible. Alongside a fringe festival retelling of the history of the #MeToo movement, we also get a will-they-won't-they plot and an inside account of so-Alex-has-been-publicly-shamed. Because, in reaction to her awful one-star review, and the one-night stand, Hayley transforms her one-woman show into 'The Alex Lyons Experience' – a one-star review of Alex's entire life and an immediate star-making media sensation. She retells the story of her encounter with Alex, then opens the stage for other women to share the appalling things Alex or other Alex-like men have done to them. And as clips from the show go viral, resonating far beyond a small function room below a pub and bringing forth similar stories from thousands of women, it starts to seem as though most men – all men? – are deserving of similar humiliation. And if not that, then a good digital stoning. As the Black Mirror episode Nosedive foretold, these days we are all but forced to participate in a culture of constantly rating one another. Midway through the novel, Sophie finds herself getting self-hatingly drunk at a festival party. There was an interactive customer feedback device propped up on the bar. Tell us what you think of our service, it said, and underneath there were two buttons you could press: an angry red face or a smiling green one. Excellent or worthless, nothing in between. Review your experience, share your thoughts, recommend us to your friends, swipe left, swipe right, leave a comment, have an opinion. Everyone's a critic. But shouldn't we be more forgiving? Like Jesus. When he was born, his father only gave him one star. Toby Litt is Head of Creative Writing at the University of Southampton. Bring the House Down by Charlotte Runcie is published by Borough (£16.99). To support the Guardian order your copy at Delivery charges may apply.
Forbes
a day ago
- Business
- Forbes
Turn LinkedIn Critics Into Your Biggest Personal Brand Growth Asset
Some people seem to have nothing better to do than add salty comments and share their bad vibes. Trolls are everywhere online. But rather than lose sleep over losers who probably aren't making money or impact, you can use their words to build your success. Your next viral post might come from someone who disagrees with you. And while everyone else hides from challenging comments or gets defensive, the smartest creators on LinkedIn know that critics create the kind of engagement the algorithm loves. They spark discussions that make your content impossible to ignore. Every time someone challenges your ideas, they're handing you an opportunity. Your response shows your expertise better than any polished post ever could. On your way to the top, you're going to ruffle a few feathers. When you show up in your full power, people can't always handle it. It makes them uncomfortable. But this isn't about you, it's about them. Critics are inevitable at some stage of online fame. Your dream clients are watching how you handle pushback. They're deciding whether you're someone worth following based on how you expertly handle disagreement. Treat every critic as a collaborator in disguise. Delete that defensive response. You don't have anything to prove and you don't owe anyone an explanation. When someone questions your methods or disagrees with your approach, they've created a teaching moment for everyone watching. Thank them genuinely for sharing their perspective. Use their comment as a springboard to dive deeper into the point. Your audience learns more from watching you handle objections. Flip the script. Instead of defending, expand. Someone says your strategy won't work for small businesses? Perfect. Now you get to break down exactly how to adapt it for different company sizes. They claim your approach is outdated? Cool. Share the recent data that supports your methods. Every challenge becomes a chance to teach something new while demonstrating your depth of knowledge. Your critics are your best content strategists. They tell you exactly what your audience struggles to understand or accept about your expertise. See past the emotion to pragmatism. There's something in there to unpack. Keep a log of every challenging comment you receive. Their objections show the exact gaps between what you know and what your market believes. That gap is where your most valuable content lives. When someone questions your post about delegation, they're revealing a pain point shared by hundreds of silent readers. Turn that objection into next week's post. Address the concern head-on with a detailed breakdown. Your critic just helped you create content that speaks directly to hidden doubts in your audience's minds. They've done your market research for free. Your composure under pressure builds trust. It's an easy win. When emotions run high in your comments section, your calm response stands out. Address the valid points in any criticism first. This shows intellectual honesty that your audience respects. Correct any misinformation with specific examples or data. Let go of the need to be right. Focus on being helpful. Keep your responses shorter than your critic's comment. This subtle power move shows confidence without aggression. Use their first name. Reference specific parts of their argument to show you've read carefully. End with a question to show you're not afraid. Turn potential conflicts into productive conversations that benefit everyone reading. LinkedIn's algorithm rewards posts with sustained discussion, and your thoughtful responses to critics keep conversations going longer. Your supporters will contribute too. This engagement is gold. The increase in comments over a longer period of time signals to LinkedIn that your content sparks genuine interest. It signals people can't stop talking about your work. Stop seeing negative comments as problems to solve. See them as algorithm fuel. Each response you write creates another notification, another reason for people to return to your post. The longer the discussion continues, the more LinkedIn shows your content to new audiences. Your most challenging commenter might bring in your next thousand followers. Private message your thoughtful critics after the public discussion ends. Thank them for pushing your thinking. Share additional resources that address their concerns. This unexpected move transforms potential enemies into allies. Some of my best LinkedIn relationships started as people who disagreed with my posts. Critics aren't always bad people. They might end up being fans. They've seen how you handle pressure. They've watched you respond with grace and expertise. When they share your future content, their endorsement carries extra weight because everyone knows they don't agree easily. Converted critic to credible advocate in a few simple steps. Critics are LinkedIn growth accelerators in disguise. Every challenging comment creates an opportunity to demonstrate expertise, generate algorithm-boosting engagement, and build deeper relationships with your audience. Your response to criticism shows your true professional character. Don't bother deleting difficult comments. You're better than that. The next time someone challenges your ideas, smile. They picked a fight with the wrong person, and they're about to see why.
New York Times
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Vicki Goldberg Dies at 88; Saw Photography Through a Literary Lens
Vicki Goldberg, an influential photography critic and the author of a lauded 1986 biography of Margaret Bourke-White, the pioneering and colorful Life magazine photographer, died on May 29 in Manhattan. She was 88. Her death, at an assisted living facility, was caused by brain cancer, her son Eric Goldberg said. Though she was trained as an art historian, Ms. Goldberg began writing about photography in the 1970s, when the medium was having a renaissance after a postwar lull. At the time, said Mary Panzer, a historian of photography and an independent curator, 'much of the criticism was written by men and appeared in the photography press, such as Popular Photography and Modern Photography, and was directed at professionals, hobbyists and the eccentrics who considered photography something more than a collectible.' 'Goldberg,' she added, 'brought a broad education, insatiable curiosity and relentless ambition to her work. She showed us that photography was part of our social and cultural landscape.' Ms. Goldberg had a windfall in the case of Bourke-White. In 1973, two years after the photojournalist's death, 8,000 of her photographs and other artifacts were discovered under a stairway in her house in Darien, Conn. Bourke-White had burned most of her diaries, Ms. Goldberg told The New York Times in 1986, but had 'saved everything but the Kleenex,' including menus, receipts and Time Inc. memo pads. On one pad she'd written, 'Should I marry Erskine Caldwell?' (She and the novelist had a brief and stormy marriage.) Ms. Goldberg pored over the trove for an article in New York Magazine, and soon embarked on her Bourke-White biography. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Daily Mail
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Sarah Jessica Parker 'sobbed' after 'cruel' comments about her appearance during Sex and the City
At the height of her Sex and the City heyday circa 1998-2004, Sarah Jessica Parker 'was not prepared' for the onslaught of 'cruel' criticism she received about her appearance. 'I think just discussions of my physical person [were the hardest],' the 60-year-old former child star told Call Her Daddy on Wednesday. 'Like, stuff that I couldn't change and wouldn't change and had never considered changing, or even still after hearing something that was like, "What? Somebody would say that?" — even still, no interest in changing it.' Sarah wondered if her critics 'would say that to my face' if they had a real conversation. 'I didn't feel like I could sit in a room and someone would say to me, "You're really unattractive,"' Parker mused. 'And then I could say, "Wow. Well, first of all, that's hard to hear. But second of all, why do you seem angry about it? Or why do you feel it's necessary to comment?"' At the height of her Sex and the City heyday circa 1998-2004, Sarah Jessica Parker 'was not prepared' for the onslaught of 'cruel' criticism she received about her appearance (pictured in 2002) The 60-year-old former child star told Call Her Daddy on Wednesday: 'I think just discussions of my physical person [were the hardest]. Like, stuff that I couldn't change and wouldn't change and had never considered changing, or even still after hearing something that was like, "What? Somebody would say that?" — even still, no interest in changing it' The two-time Emmy winner hit a breaking point when she read 'something really mean' about how she looked in a magazine, which she called 'a kick in the rubber parts.' 'I called two of my friends, who happened to be male because I knew that they might know about it. And I was just like sobbing because it felt so purposeful,' Sarah recalled. 'And I think that's the only time I really cried about it. I think it was just an accumulation of maybe a season of that kind of commentary, which no one was trying to make me aware of it, but it gets [back to you].' Before producing and starring in Darren Star's small-screen adaptation of Candace Bushnell's newspaper column and 1996 book anthology, Parker noted that 'there was no chatter about me. There was just my work.' 'It was the personal stuff that I was really not prepared for,' the Ohio-born actress explained. 'At that time, I thought I was a fairly confident I think it really comes into question and is tested when you're kind of filleted in a better for those kinds of experiences, but not all of us are good at it right away.' Sex and the City - which was iconic yet culturally Caucasian - aired for six seasons spanning on HBO and spawned two terrible films Sex and the City (2008) and Sex and the City 2 (2010) as well as a forgettable prequel, The CW's The Carrie Diaries (2013–14). Catch more of SJP as wealthy widowed author Carrie Bradshaw in the 12-episode third season of Michael Patrick King's SATC continuation And Just Like That, which airs Thursdays on HBO/Max The Emmy-winning series borrowed heavily from its predecessor about four female friends living in a big city - NBC sitcom The Golden Girls (1985-1992) - even copying the character archetypes of a funny one, a smart one, a naïve one, and a slut. Sarah admitted she hasn't even seen Michael Patrick King's dismally-reviewed continuation And Just Like That, despite being an executive producer, which most fans hate-watch due to their devotion for Sex and the City. Catch more of Parker as wealthy widowed author Carrie Bradshaw in the 12-episode third season of Michael Patrick King's SATC continuation And Just Like That, which airs Thursdays on HBO Max. Variety reported that the SJP Collection founder, Cynthia Nixon, and Kristin Davis all earned $10M paychecks to executive produce and star in season one, but it's unclear if they've since received raises.
