There's something that bothers me about the statement: "It's only a
game."
Like the hurt, anger, shock, jubilation or happiness of playing in
or watching a sporting event is lessened by that thought. And you
know what makes it better, when a second person, then a third and a
fourth tell you the same thing.
Sports are a way of life for many people. No longer able to play at
a certain level (or at all), we latch on to our favorite teams to
continue seeking the high we got from our athletic participation days.
That is why there are so many fanatical people out there
following "their" teams.
Of course, the fanaticism goes to extreme. Was it "just a game"
for Andres Escobar? He was the Colombian defender who
accidentally knocked the ball into his own goal during the 1994 World
Cup allowing the Americans to win.
Is it only a game for the thousands, nay millions, of rabid
followers of the Mexican National Soccer team? The ones who take to the
streets to celebrate big victories, and voice their displeasure about
losses.
Even beyond soccer, what about the fans of teams in L.A., Detroit
and elsewhere who take to the streets in near-riot mode after a big
victory?
So, yes, winning and losing really matter. No one goes through life
trying to lose. You never took a test in school trying to get an F? You
never asked out someone you really, REALLY liked hoping to get
rejected?
But all that is nothing compared to the psychological effects
winning can do for you.
In 2002, Gina's mom died the Friday before the beginning of the
World Series. We, obviously, we're devastated by our loss, and wondering
what it would be like watching the Angels' first series without her (an
Angels' fan herself).
But it turned out that the World Series came at exactly the right
moment for us. We took the opportunity to go and watch the games with
Gina's dad. Growing up, baseball was one of the few ways that the two of
them connected, so sitting down at a sports bar among people helped us
talk and enjoy the moments.
We said our final goodbye to her mom a week later, the day of Game
6. I remember that it had been overcast and gloomy during the middle of
the week, but it was sunny, but brisk that day. We had the service, and
then a reception. I turned on the game in a side bedroom to keep tabs on
what was going on -- and it wasn't pretty. Here we were still grieving
over the loss and fuming about something that happened during the
reception, and to make matter worse, the Angels were losing 5-0 and were
going to lose the World Series.
We packed up to head home, and being the masochist I am, I went
ahead and turned on the game -- just in time to hear Scott Spiezio's
home run. I frantically called Gina (we were in separate cars) and told
her we were coming back, and the crowd was going wild. The drive home
flew by. I was back in Ontario when Darin Erstad hit his leadoff home
run to make it 5-4, and I was practically in hysterics. I stopped for
drinks at a Circle K, and we had the lead.
We sprinted into the apartment in time to see Troy Percival shut
down the Giants for the 6-5 victory, hearing Joe Buck say "See you
tomorrow night." I still get goose bumps just thinking about it.
We watched the highlights giddy. Seeing Spiezio's homer, I think
both of us had the feeling that it got a little help from the newest
Angel that night, because we know Gina's mom was looking out for her
team and her kids at their time of need.
Tell me that "was just a game."
Where I think we've lost our way is that somehow being competitive
and wanting to win means you can't be a good sportsman. That the lessons
of fair play go out the window in the quest of winning.
When I was in Little League (oh boy, here he goes again), playing
in the lowest (non T-ball) division, we played. And we played to win.
This was back before coach's pitched, walks were replaced by swings at a
ball on the tee, safety baseballs and no one keeping score -- because
we were all winners. No, the game was meant to be played to win.
I even remember one of those games. I was 9, and we were playing a
team we hadn't beat all season. It was a late spring/early summer
evening, and both teams were playing hard, jumping up and down in our
dugouts and having a good time. If I remember correctly, we rallied, and
then hung on for a 3-2 victory. 3-2, with a bunch of 8- and
9-year-olds.
Things started to change as I grew up. More and more parents were
forgetting the lessons they were supposed to teach their kids, instead
seeking absolute perfection. Yelling and screaming after every little
mistake (like a 10-year-old is going to catch every ground ball hit
their way). Berating volunteer officials to the point of physical
violence. And then, to make sure no ones feelings were hurt at the end
of the day, everyone started getting trophies (or medals) just for
playing. Rules were changed to make the game safer and allow everyone
the chance to hit (eliminating walks, for instance). Parents stopped
keeping score and reinforcing the "everyone's a winner" motto.
I've since been a coach. The first thing I tell players and parents
is that we will have fun during the season, but I do expect one thing:
That while the players are on the field, that they are 100 percent on
the field and trying to the best of their ability for the two hours we
are there -- in other words "Go Hard or Go Home." As long as we do that,
we'll never have any problems. And ya know what, we won more than we
lost -- and nobody ever felt like we were doing their kids wrong.
So, now five days removed from the "just a game" that set me off on
this rant, have my feelings mellowed on the subject of the Ducks
winning the Stanley Cup. Ummm... how about no. But it doesn't mean I
haven't looked at it objectively. Nor does it mean I can't give them
credit (the cheating bast ... errr ... the superior team in the series
got the win. Of course, Ottawa didn't help its cause by playing its
worst game of the playoffs in Game 5).
In the end, the key to being a good player or fan, is the ability
to move on. Forget ones losses. Learn from your mistakes. Look ahead to
the next challenge without dwelling on the past. So taking that lesson
into account, all I gotta say is:
Only 111 days
until the Kings play the Ducks to open the season in London (Sept. 29
and 30). GO KINGS!
