When you played for our teams, and you stepped across that chalk line onto the field of play, you hustled. That's what you did.
 
You hustled to first base when you hit the ball, no matter how well or how poorly you hit it. You hustled to your position on the field at the start of the inning. You performed your job to the best of your ability there, and then you hustled off the field. Always.
 
"Hustle. Hustle. Hustle," my dad would chant to motivate you. Every game. Every practice. Every time. Win. Lose. Succeed. Fail. Make a fantastic play. Make an error.
 
It did not matter as long as you were hustling.