Word Gumbo

I am an avid fan of sports. I believe it is a great way to explore your potential and push yourself beyond what you feel is capable of your body.  Take mountain biking for example. It is not a pleasant feeling to bike up a steep grade on a logging road for over an hour just to reach the top of a hill. It sucks, plainly. Your lungs burn, your back drips ounces and ounces of sweat, and you find yourself dwelling on the fact that hikers could probably walk up the hill faster than the speed you’re traveling. Yet when you reach the top and look out over the valley and elevation you conquered on two wheels, an enormous sense of pride spreads across your face. It makes the 15 minute descent so much more gratifying. After all, you earned it.

But what happens when you play competitive sports against other players and on a team? What do you do with the bitter taste of defeat, which seems to be the Special of the Day every single game?  Losing streaks can be more personally defeating than having to get off your bike and walk it up a hill (something I’m very familiar with).

No one likes to lose, at least not all the time.  Yet everyone appears to react the same when they do, whether they are a well-accomplished team or just getting into the sport. Each year the World Cup prominently displays these common reactions as nations lose and fail to advance to the finals. Perhaps what the World Cup has done is not show us how different each country is, but how similar we all are despite race, language, and national history. “[Players] blame themselves. They blame the other guy. They weep. They stew. They act stoic. They act up.” (Michael J. Agovino, NY Times, June 18^th, 2006) I have a theory that players experience more emotional anguish when they are use to winning, than if they are just grateful to be in the competition.  Take note of many African nations. According to M.J. Agovino, “given their meager resources, [they] are just happy to have qualified for the cup, and the reactions to the losses… ‘have not been irritable or violent but rather with a degree of stoicism or grace.’”

Should sports be used to prove to ourselves and others that we are better than someone else? If not, then what should its true focus be? And if so, is it wrong to see how accomplished we are and capable of taking on others? I doubt the U.S. Women’s Soccer team goes to games expecting just to have fun. They play to win. Furthermore, I find it interesting that the Olympics were once viewed as a way to train men to be in the military and engage in combat.

I have a fortune cookie message taped on my computer monitor at work. It reads, “Remember that winners do what losers don’t want to do.” If a person only plays sports to win all the time, and quits if that goal isn’t met, is he/she a winner? Perhaps sticking with something despite the sense of accomplishment being met serves a greater purpose- such as self-determination and mental resilience.

I think I need to follow my own logic of thinking. I wanted to quit a Lindy Hop class because the teacher was an ass the first night and I didn’t like the way he led the class. Since then I have gone to the library and checked out a video to teach me how to lead so that Stacy and I can dance together and have a constant partner throughout the 5-week course. I may not turn out to be a great lead, but at least I didn’t let a teacher take away the accomplishment of teaching my body to move in new ways and express itself. Not to mention the personal health I’m gaining by being active.