I started practicing in the backyard every evening after I got home from work, but I went way beyond just swinging the bat. To merely swing a bat is the epitome of action without purpose or strategy - action just for the sake of taking action.
Instead, I got down in my batting crouch hundreds of times each evening and, with intense concentration, visualized the pitcher going through his windup and letting go of the ball. Everything I did from that point on was in slow motion for the first half-hour or so of each practice.
As I pictured the windup, I focused on stepping directly toward the pitcher with my left foot. This was an important first step, because psychologically it was a bold statement that I intended to meet the pitch head on. It was the step that set everything else in motion for me.
He's building on an article of his own and an intervening post by Michael Masterson, in Masterson's newsletter Early to Rise, which focuses on using careful, slow repetitions - "Never practice a mistake" - when you're serious about mastering any activity.
Masterson learned it's value from his Jiu Jitsu instructor. I learned some of the same things in football practice... and from my brother's tutoring in the value of proper "form" in football--a little guy will always get killed by a big guy unless the little guys moves are perfect.
Ron's official weight was 163#.
He played defensive end.
I never saw him get burned. Or miss a tackle. Or look like a Viking (c. 2005) when he hit a guy.
When I went to ball-games in those days, I didn't really know anything about football... but I knew my brother, and I knew where the line of scrimmage was. I learned to judge a defender's play by how close to the line of scrimmage (or how far behind it) they tackled the ball-carrier.
At 163, opposing teams generally considered Ron to be the weak link. By the second quarter, they decided Dave Minor was the weak link. Unfortunately for them, Dave was pretty damn good as well.
You can't imagine what I'd give to have Ron's defense replace ours in the 1980 WIAA Championships. (Our "O" was KICKASS. No matter that our QB had an inferiority complex. The blocking was good. That's what really counts.)
WHOOPS!! Got off topic a bit there.
My dumb brother was such a jerk that he made me spend hours in our front yard practicing proper form. We didn't have pads, so everything we did had to be careful and slow, but as such Ron taught me that I had to be aware of the forces that would be involved at full speed. I don't know how, but I got it.
I know that as an offensive lineman I never got beat by anybody but my own mistakes. Tactical mistakes, not technical mistakes. I had technique down cold, but sometimes I'd glitch and act on the wrong set of instructions.
Strategy? That was the coach's problem.
Here's my addition to the discussion: how do you apply brilliance at learning technique to learning tactics and strategy?