Last week, LinkedIn, in its infinite wisdom, suggested I look at the profile of someone they think is similar to me.

Like, I had to laugh. Same or close? Hardly.

Artificial intelligence strikes again in the Match Game of LinkedIn. Yes folks, the LinkedIn gremlins behind the scenes tried to make a match, but not a perfect one. Yes, with respect to the teacher, we both coach, but I do not advocate using a net or a ball to score on LinkedIn. My value is not proven only in March Madness. Hopefully other months as well…

Misjudged words. It reminded me of my senior year high school French class when Mindy wrote an essay about her favorite sport, baseball, and why she loved it. As all of us did, she pulled from the Amsco French-English English-French dictionary we were required to buy.

Blast-from-the-past picture of my copy to remind many of you:

We all wrote dutifully.

But when she read her essay to the class, the teacher, a memorably jovial type, laughed out loud when Mindy extolled the classic challenge between the batter (in French, the word for moistened baking mix) and the pitcher (again, the French word for the vessel that holds liquid.)

Once explained, Mindy had to laugh with us too. I’ll never forget that.

Basketball coaching is not the same as personal brand coaching, to be sure. As I teach it, the context of the words you choose and the depth you depict your expertise on LinkedIn must show mastery of your craft, nothing left to the imagination running away with the reader that you short-stopped, or are out in left-field. And to milk the the basketball pun-o-rama, no double dribbling or personal fouling.

You will have strikes (not as in labor walkouts) and runs (not as in Montezuma’s revenge) on your LinkedIn posts. That’s OK, you are playing your field.

I’ll spare you the basketball parallels.

Keep on, always seeking to win.

LinkedIn is a participant sport, not a spectator one.