There were sad faces and tears. Without the looming possibility of loss, how can anything be truly gained from victory? A competitive person must lose or else become so accustomed to winning that a skewed view of the world may
There were sad faces and tears.
Without the looming possibility of loss, how can anything be truly gained from victory?
A competitive person must lose or else become so accustomed to winning that a skewed view of the world may follow – or boredom at the very least.
Athletes hate coming up on the short end of the scoreboard. Those truly dedicated would do anything to avoid such a fate. It’s the reason for 30-hour practice weeks, the reason for sacrificing some of life’s simple pleasures, the reason an overweight football player will work himself to death in the heat of training camp.
Without the possibility of failure, would anyone ever go to such lengths to prove merit?
For all the initial pain and grief that accompanies a loss, there may be nothing finer for teaching our children – or adults. Principles never honed in the classroom or the boardroom are evident on the field of athletic battle. Yeah, there’s much to be gained from victory – how to be a gracious winner or proof that the trials of practice do provide a sweet fruition.
But that’s not what builds character, or drives an athlete – old or young – back to the weight room or out to the track for sprints.
I played junior varsity basketball during my first year of high school. We had a talented team. Our core unit had claimed a middle-school championship the year before, and nothing was expected to change once we hit ninth grade.
For six games, it didn’t. We mangled opponents – beat them by 25 or 30 points with what seemed like little effort. Each victory expanded our egos, so that by the sixth game our heads were like bubbles blown to their elastic limit.
And we became terribly lax. Before practices, we’d sit on the sidelines gossiping instead of working on our jump shots or post moves. Much to the chagrin of our coaches, we moved at half-speed through practice, as though sweat-breaking should be reserved only for game day.
In the week prior to the seventh game of our season, we were kicked out of practice twice. Talk about your cocky 15 year olds.
That seventh game was against a non-league opponent. They beat us by 32 points. It wasn’t just a defeat, but a message. They had led by just 29 with three seconds to go; some reserve point guard nailed a half-court shot to seal the score.
Our post-game locker room was like a morgue, our coach like the grim reaper. He smiled at our sudden death and channeled all his sarcasm into a single statement:
“Nice job, boys.”
The sound of the air deflating from that room could have startled the deaf.
There were sad faces and tears. But, more importantly, the seeds of lessons we’d not considered were planted.
No man or team is invincible; how do you rebound from defeat?; sometimes a person or team does play like he or she or it practices; how can we be gracious in defeat?; were we being properly gracious in victory?; life does continue after a loss; nothing can be taken for granted; those in authority do know a thing or two; there will always be a next time.
These are concepts we hadn’t considered during our victory string. We felt untouchable then and had no motivation for appreciating the wins.
We had no reason to believe our streak would end. Our parents, teachers and peers heaped praise on us far in excess of that warranted by a bunch of 15-year-old basketball players.
Despite the agony of that losing night, and the subsequent practices’ conditioning workout, the facts were clear: we needed to lose.
Why do you think commentators suggest that an 18-0 college basketball team could use a loss or two before getting to the NCAA tournament? Why does a loss in Week 13 for a 12-0 NFL squad not devastate the coaching staff? Why would it do the Seattle Mariners good to drop three or four in a row a time or two before the start of the playoffs?
Fear. The implanting of a sense of urgency. The principle of overcoming obstacles.
These are the things that make losing worthwhile.
Though we hate to do it,
