I was sitting in the stands a couple of weeks ago when the Huskies football team saw a potential victory evaporate faster than spilled beer on a hot sidewalk \u2013 all because of a referee\u2019s call. A fan sitting just behind me meant to shout, \u201cThis is an outrage!\u201d But instead, the words came out, \u201cThis is bull___!\u201d<\/p>\n
Another fan immediately countered with, \u201cNo! It\u2019s horse___!\u201d<\/p>\n
So which sort of ___ was it exactly, I wondered?<\/p>\n
After the game, I discussed the situation with some friends. We generally agreed that the referee\u2019s call had been the byproduct of neither bull nor horse, but rather a combination of musk ox, dromedary and bighorn sheep, with perhaps a dash of moose___ tossed in, too.<\/p>\n
It all served to remind that in sports, as in life, winning is terribly important to people. That\u2019s why fans howl so loudly when something or someone \u2013 say, a referee \u2013 gets in the way of victory. In fact, some people get so angry at game officials that they will no longer go to the mall, just in case there\u2019s a Footlocker store in there.<\/p>\n
There\u2019s been much said and written about winning and losing. Frank Sinatra did a song called \u201cHere\u2019s to the Winners,\u201d but also one called \u201cHere\u2019s to the Losers,\u201d just so both sides would get equal time.<\/p>\n
A person once said, \u201cThere is no failure except in no longer trying.\u201d William Saroyan once wrote, \u201cGood people are good because they\u2019ve come to wisdom through failure.\u201d Pretty elegant, I admit. But W.C. Fields may have had it most right: \u201cIf at first you don\u2019t succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There\u2019s no use being a damn fool about it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Yet, in spite of the obsession that we Americans have for winning, I would submit that there is a lot to be said for losing. My uncle used to say that if it weren\u2019t for losers, there would be no winners. He also once said, \u201cThat which does not kill you, makes you stronger.\u201d He said that just before he was killed.<\/p>\n
Losing builds character, they say. It makes us strive harder to win, they say. It makes us better grounded as human beings, they say. Oh, put a sock in it, I say.<\/p>\n
After all, losing moments stand out in the memory every bit as large as winning ones \u2013 maybe larger. If winning feels like a million bucks, losing feels like a bounced check.<\/p>\n
Winning moments are bright and shining. Losing moments are red and sore.<\/p>\n
I remember once grabbing a loose ball in a grade-school basketball game and scurrying down the floor for a magnificent, uncontested layup \u2013 into the other team\u2019s basket. My coach later pointed out that my mistake wasn\u2019t so bad. It only meant that our team lost by 40 points, instead of 38. He always knew the right thing to say.<\/p>\n
When I was in high school, I tried out for the varsity basketball team every year, and got cut every year. \u201cKeep practicing,\u201d the coach would tell me. \u201cYou might make it next year.\u201d So I did keep practicing, and finally became good enough to make the team. Unfortunately, I was then almost 32 years old.<\/p>\n
My dad would console me: \u201cSon, maybe basketball isn\u2019t your sport.\u201d So I went out for football. \u201cMaybe football isn\u2019t your sport either,\u201d dad would say. As it turned out, baseball, cross country, wrestling, track and field, soccer, skiing, swimming, tennis, golf, ping pong, gymnastics and checkers weren\u2019t my sports, either. If only my high school had fielded a Pictionary team, I might have lettered. Barring injury, of course.<\/p>\n
Blake Jackson, an acquaintance, tells a different story. He did make his high school basketball team. He made the varsity squad his senior year, but spent all season as reserve, relegated to sitting at the far end of the bench. He sat closer to the refreshment stand than the scorer\u2019s table.<\/p>\n
But then one night, right at the start of a critical game, destiny dribbled in.<\/p>\n
\u201cJackson!\u201d The voice of the coach thundered from the far end of the bench. \u201cGet down here! I need you!\u201d Blake was astounded, but rose to his feet and ran down to the coach. \u201cI\u2019m ready, coach!\u201d he declared, his heart pounding like a drum solo.<\/p>\n
This was the moment Blake had always dreamed of. At long last he would finally get to show the world the incredible human scoring machine that he could be. He would astonish the enemy team as he effortlessly snatched rebounds from high atop the rim and convert them into spectacular swish shots delivered from every part of the floor. Afterwards, every cheerleader would be clawing to date him. He could already imagine the cheers from the frenzied crowd: \u201cBlake, Blake! Shake and Bake! Head fake! Earthquake! For goodness sake! Sweet as cake! We all ache for Blake!\u201d<\/p>\n
The coach looked him straight in the eye. \u201cJackson,\u201d he said. \u201cTake off your shoes! Charlie forgot his, and you wear the same size!\u201d<\/p>\n
In his mind, as \u201cShoeless\u201d Blake Jackson sat through the game on the end of the bench, he may have been thinking, \u201cThis is donkey___ !\u201d But he kept it to himself.<\/p>\n
Pat Cashman is a writer, actor and public speaker. He can be reached at pat@patcashman.com<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I was sitting in the stands a couple of weeks ago when the Huskies football team saw a potential victory evaporate faster than spilled beer on a hot sidewalk \u2013 all because of a referee\u2019s call. A fan sitting just behind me meant to shout, \u201cThis is an outrage!\u201d But instead, the words came out, \u201cThis is bull___!\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":214,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"yst_prominent_words":[],"class_list":["post-2200","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-opinion"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2200"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/214"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2200"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2200\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2200"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2200"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2200"},{"taxonomy":"yst_prominent_words","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.kentreporter.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/yst_prominent_words?post=2200"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}