I played a lot
of baseball when I was a kid. For years it was my favorite sport, both as a
player and as a spectator. My first hero was Brooks Robinson, the Hall of Fame
shortstop for the Baltimore Orioles. If you wanted me to do something for you
the best way to ensure my agreement was to attach baseball to it in some
manner. I loved baseball.
But baseball
didn’t always love me. The game we played was different in a couple of ways
than baseball as it’s played today. The first difference is a matter of age:
there was no such thing as T-ball or any other type of development leagues. You
started playing at age seven and that was that. The other difference was even
more significant: there was no ten-run rule. We played a full nine innings no
matter what the final score was. It made for some brutal losses as our team was
not very good. We lost every game of our first two seasons but one, often by
extremely discouraging one-sided scores.
I didn’t mind
losing as much as I minded the post-game handshake. It seemed that most of the
other teams really enjoyed beating us, and it showed in their mocking remarks
during that handshake time. I remember one time that our coach simply pulled us
off the field after one pretty bad loss because of the attitudes of the coaches
and kids on the other team. The other thing that really bothered me was my dad.
He had no tolerance for losing and he was always quick to let me know that I
was failing him with every loss. I have no memory of him ever being encouraging
or congratulating me on those rare occasions that I did something right. I
eventually quit playing baseball mostly because of my dad.
The single
bright spot of those first two seasons was my coach. Coach Katrosh was a wise
and gentle man who understood that he was molding us into something far more
important than a baseball team. He stressed to us the importance of giving our
best effort and accepting that things would not always go the way we wanted. He
insisted that we learn to lose with our heads held high, having given our best
effort. Excuses were not accepted and we were expected to act like gentlemen
regardless of how the game turned out. I learned a lot more about losing than
winning in all those years I played baseball, but especially those first two
seasons.
I have always
tried to stress to my kids that learning how to lose was far more important that
winning. We may remember the wins, but we will be more remembered for our
reaction to the losses. This idea seems especially poignant to me in the
aftermath of this most recent election season. I believe that losing is a great
teacher because our lives will seldom go according to the plans we have laid
out for ourselves. Winning creates hubris, an extremely dangerous form of pride
that is incapable of recognizing one’s own shortcomings. Losing serves as an
anchor, a reminder that we are not all that we might think our selves to be,
that it takes work and commitment and dedication to win – and that sometimes
even that is not enough.
My parent’s
favorite sport was wrestling. I have vivid memories of watching my parents (and
I) watching professional wrestling on TV. My parents hated one wrestler in
particular, Fritz Von Erich. Once, during a particularly tense match, one of my
parents got so angry with Fritz that they threw a shoe into the TV. Needless to
say, I didn’t get to watch cartoons for a few Saturdays after that. My parents didn’t
seem to take losing too well.
Why bring up
those stories? My parents and Coach Katrosh set the examples that taught me how
to deal with winning and losing. I learned from them, and many others, that
being a good loser takes much more strength, character and patience than
winning requires. Lest you think that I don’t care to win let me assure you
that I love to win. Just ask any of my kids or the teams that I’ve coached or
helped coach through the years.
Just as all
those coaches and other adults modeled for me examples of both the good and bad
way to handle losing, I have modeled for my kids and others how to respond to
both winning and losing. We need to show, not just tell, our kids that effort
and dedication and determination are the valuable life lessons, the things that
will carry them far beyond the memories of a few wins here and there.
But how do we
do it? How do we teach our kids how to lose with grace?
Play
hard...and fair. Why is it that our society
has come to celebrate pushing the limits? One famous NASCAR driver once said
that if you weren’t cheating you weren’t trying to win. We need to demonstrate
to our kids a respect for the rules.
Learn to
praise...honestly. One of the reasons I don’t
coach kid sports any longer is that more and more parents are interjecting
themselves into games and practices simply to promote their kids to a level
beyond their ability. There is nothing wrong with being proud of a child’s
accomplishments...but keep it in perspective. Not everyone can be the captain
of the team or the superstar. If your child is trying their best and having a
good time be happy with that.
Keep it all
in perspective. Nobody will ever give you a
job because you scored a touchdown in a backyard football game or because you
set a scoring record for your favorite video game. Education has always been
and will always be more important than athletics. God is not going to tell
anyone what their turnover to assist ratio was not good enough to get them into
heaven. We need to hold sports success in proper perspective...it’s good
training but not a guarantee of future success in any endeavor.
Have fun! Life is hard enough by itself...Learn to laugh and always have the
ability to laugh at others mistakes as well as your own (Ask me sometime about
a particular game of Clue with my kids). Play is supposed to be enjoyable and
when you can’t laugh and have a good time it may be time to give it up.
Thanks Coach
Katrosh for teaching me that. I hope I have passed it down to my kids as well
as you passed it on to me.
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