When Mike Hargrove batted for the Cleveland Indians and the Texas Rangers, his quirky routine at the plate lasted so long, teammates nicknamed him "the human rain delay." Before stepping, up to bat, Hargrove walked along the first base line and took three practice swings. Then, stepping into the batter's box, he dug a hole in the dirt with his left foot, adjusted his batting glove and the rubber on his left thumb, wiped the sweat off his lips with the inside of his left elbow, pulled on the right shoulder of his uniform, pushed down the top of his helmet, and pulled up his pants with his left hand. If he finished his ritual before the pitcher was ready, he would start it over again. After each pitch, Hargrove repeated the entire process, never missing a step for fear it would bring bad luck.

Hargrove's superstitious routine might be considered extreme, but it's not unusual; athletes frequently adopt odd behaviors to court good luck or avoid a jinx. For example, Hall of Fame hockey player Bobby Orr wore the same socks-unwashed-every game until he failed to score a goal, Baseball Hall of Famer Wade Boggs always ate chicken before a game, and Knicks forward Charles Oakley bounced the basketball exactly 12 times before each free throw.

But let's get serious for a minute. Can stinky socks really affect a player's performance? Can too many taps on home plate affect the outcome of a game? "Superstitions are primitive but very powerful rituals that acknowledge there are limits to what a person can control," says Michael Mahoney, a psychologist. They are confidence builders for athletes, ways to feel in control of factors that are really uncontrollable.

Like athletes who can't control every bounce or bobble during a game, we can't influence every event during our lives. For better or worse, unpredictability is part of sports and part of life. But unlike athletes who naively adopt superstitious behaviors, we can manage life's chaos with Jewish values, such as emunah, (faith) and tikvah (hope).

Judaism links faith and hope, and our tradition advises us to keep them balanced. Faith, say the rabbis, exists in the awareness that only God's acts are decisive, so ultimate control in life belongs to God. And yet, the Torah teaches that humans are partners with God. We don't sit passively and wait for God to redeem us; on the contrary, we're obligated to initiate concrete action to perfect the world. When we act, we demonstrate not only hope for the future, but also faith in God's ultimate plan. This approach, after all, sure beats wearing a rally cap when life throws us a curve ball.