How the mental game applies to welding—lessons from Yogi

"Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical."

This week I figured I’d give a little nod to Yankees great Yogi Berra, who recently passed away. His math may have been a little off, but I think most would pick up what he was laying down. Throughout the history of baseball, many great athletes have failed between the lines because they didn’t have what it took between the ears.

Similarly, to excel at welding it takes more than a steady hand and great eyesight. And mental strength is more than remembering which filler rod to use when or how many amps it takes to weld ¼-in. aluminum.

During his or her career, a welder undoubtedly will hit many walls. The walls will come fast and furiously in the first few years and, hopefully, as experience sets in, the hurdles will seem lower and the time between them longer.

Humans are all wired differently; we all look at the world uniquely and respond to difficulties in our own way. Some people stay cool and collected and methodically break down barriers. Personally, I tend to be pretty stubborn and hot-tempered when I face an obstacle.

As a millwright apprentice at Chrysler, I worked with a journeyman, Chris Bianco, who understood me. I remember one particular time we were working out in the gallery, where all the metal chips from the machining process were spit out and then taken away.

There were manganese chutes that would wear out, and we’d patch them up to last until we could replace them. Basically, we’d stick-weld good metal to junk metal with 6010. It wasn’t a crazy-hard weld, but 6010 is a sticky rod, and it was out of position, and I was a kid without a lot of experience. I’d stick the rod or blow through the metal or otherwise make a mess of it and curse and try again.

Chris was about 10 ft. away by the Trailblazer talking to another millwright as I was repeating this cycle over and over again.

The millwright asked, “Shouldn’t you go help him?”

“Not yet.”

Josh Welton at work.
Image courtesy of Brown Dog Welding.

“Why not?”

“He’s not ready yet.”

“How will you know when he’s ready?”

About that time, I stuck the rod again, threw my helmet in anger, and tossed a few choice words at the metal as I stomped away and past them both.

“He’s ready now.”

So Chris grabbed his helmet, picked up the stinger and a rod, and started welding like it was the easiest thing in the world. He never said anything to me; he knew I’d come around. And I did. I cooled down and returned to the scene of the crime and watched. He knew how my brain worked, that I wasn’t going to listen to reason until I exhausted my limited skill and patience. But when that time came, I was a quick study and he was a good teacher.

The thing is, I never gave in for long. I’d step away, storm away, or just stop and mull it over. But my stubbornness wouldn’t let me quit. One way or another you just have to tackle the troubles as they arise, in your own way. Those who figure that out succeed, those that don’t…well, here’s another Yogi-ism:

“There are some people who, if they don't already know, you can't tell 'em.”